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Emcee, awake in the wee hours of the night, is feeling a bit bored and frivolous.

So, he sits at the bar with a glass of gin, a mirror, and a catalogue of fashion sunglasses. Each time he comes across a pair that he likes, he asks the Bar for it so he can try them on, even taking selfies with his smartphone to see how he looks in photos with them.

It's an utterly vain way to pass the time. But whatever.

Eventually he collects a small pile of favorites, but can't decide which one to keep.

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Hawkeye, seated at the bar with a cup of coffee, has been watching Emcee pick up the sunglasses, put them on, and then hold a device up to his face, making it flash. It's only after the third selfie that she realizes the rectangular device might be a camera.

But it's so small. And she thinks she's seen something similar, when Cisco showed her the cat and dog videos. How odd, she thinks, and lifts her cup of coffee to her lips. After another selfie, she gets up the nerve to ask, "Is that a camera, Mr. Emcee?"

Edited 2018-05-31 16:51 (UTC)

Emcee has just put on a pair of sunglasses with glittery, rhinestone-studded rims, and he turns to Hawkeye with a smile.

"It's called a smartphone, Lieutenant," he replies. "And no need to call me 'Mr', my name is neither my last nor my first; it simply exists on its own."

He holds up the phone, the camera app still open, offering it to her. "Would you like to try it? It's technology from the future, mine and probably yours as well."

"Neither your last nor your first?" Hawkeye says, pondering that aloud while she curiously takes the offered smartphone.

She holds it up in front of her own face, like he was doing. When she sees her own face reflected back at her in perfect clarity, she strangles a gasp, because she is Riza Hawkeye and Riza Hawkeye does not gasp in surprise. "I can see my own face."

That did sound a bit cryptic, didn't it? Emcee is rather pleased about how that came out.

He gets up and comes over to her, leaning into her personal space so that both of their faces appear on the screen.

"Incredible, isn't it?" he beams. "And with the touch of this button here--"

He reaches up to tap the shutter button, a small light flashes, and--

"Voilà! Our picture is taken."

Hawkeye is blinded by the flash more than she thinks she ought to have been. She blinks to clear the white spots from her vision. "That seems so simple," she says, glancing at the phone once she can see again. "Where did the picture go?"

Emcee points to the bottom of the screen where a tiny thumbnail image has appeared.

"It's been saved to the gallery. Just tap that right there, and you'll see it. It's called a digital photo, instantly produced, no film or darkroom accoutrements necessary!"

She taps the thumbnail as he indicated, amazed when the enlarged photo reveals itself. "Is this posted to the internet?"

That's how you say it, right?

"Oh, no, no, it's not," he chuckles. "I haven't quite gotten that far, but I suppose I will have to figure that out sometime soon. No, it's just saved to this particular device's memory. Let me show you what else is on it."

He swipes the photo, and it scrolls back to show the previous one he'd taken just minutes ago, of himself wearing pink tinted glasses. He swipes again and again, showing more sunglasses selfies. Then the images change, featuring what looks like a big party: crowds of people dancing and drinking under colored lights, people singing into microphones, Emcee making faces with friends who she may or may not recognize (but since she's new, she probably won't).

"Ah, that was the New Year's Eve celebration I threw here. I have some video of that, too, would you like to see?"

"Yes, please," Hawkeye says, intrigued by the prospect of seeing video again. "A young man named Cisco Ramon showed me videos of dogs and cats. They were fascinating."

"Cisco! Yes, I met him once, at this very party, in fact. I believe that there was singing involved, but I can't be too sure of it."

After asking for the device back, he thumbs through a few folders, searching for the videos.

"Ah! Here we go. This is one of the impromptu performances that happened. I was just utterly delighted by it."

Pressing play, he shows Hawkeye a video of a large robot dancing to electronic dance music with little drones zooming around, creating a light show.

Hawkeye takes in the performance with her sharp-eyed, unblinking gaze. Her lips part slightly as the machine begins dancing. She recalls what Ellen had told her about humanoid machines, and wonders if Ellen herself had ever seen one dancing. "Is that... a robot?"

Emcee nods. "A droid, to be exact, and a sentient one as well," he replies. "They're quite pleasant! They even have a little songbird as a companion."

Just ignore the giant gun for a hand.

"A sentient robot? Will wonders never cease," Hawkeye murmurs, her hair falling over her right eye as she inclines her head very slightly. "Do you have any more videos?"

"I do, actually, just a few short clips of random things," he says, perching the sunglasses on the top of his head before scrolling through the files. When he finds the ones he wants, he plays them for her.

"This was the countdown at the New Year's Eve party," he explains as a crowd of people cheer and embrace while silvery confetti rains down.

"And these are Dr. Sandhu's children, also at the party. I don't know if you've met them, but they are a lovely family." In the clip, a young boy plays a piano while his sister sings.

Then in another video, the view slowly pans across a city skyline, gleaming skyscrapers in the distance mixed with much older structures. The camera eventually lands on Emcee's face, his expression one of childlike glee, before the clip abruptly ends. "That is Berlin in the future. I took that on the balcony of my flat there."

Hawkeye watches each of these videos, rapt. She's fascinated by the moving pictures, and how they just look so lifelike. "It's almost like I can reach out and touch you through the smartphone," she murmurs. "And no, I've not met the Sandhu children, or even Dr. Sandhu, yet. The New Year's Party was here, correct? Not back in the Berlin of the Future?"

Emcee refrains from adding anything to her comment about touching him.

"Dr. Sandhu is the head medic here, his office is in the infirmary. He's a very good chap to get to know, whether you come in injured or otherwise. And that's right, the party was here. I borrowed an aircraft hangar in the garage and turned it into a one-night nightclub."

"I'll have to get to know him. Thank you for telling me about him," Hawkeye says, sipping her coffee. "So you were the host of the New Year's party? I imagine your ability to entertain came in handy, then. Do you often host parties here?"

"Not often, no, but people ask me to help with their parties to provide the music," he explains as he sorts through his pile of sunglasses, "so while I'm stuck here, my itch to entertain is thus scratched."

He slips on a pair of wide shades with white rims and looks at Hawkeye.

"What do you think of these, Lieutenant?"

Hawkeye's sharp-eyed gaze descends on the glasses, and she presses her lips together. "They're... flamboyant. They suit you better than the rhinestones did."

"Really?" he says with a grin. "I do like shiny things but these are a little more streamlined, I think."

He looks into the mirror propped up on the bar and turns his face this way and that. With a sigh, he removes the sunglasses and turns the pages of the catalogue.

"The problem is, is that I don't really know what I'm looking for...but I suppose in the grander scheme of things, that's not a bad problem to have right now. But anyway! What are you up to these days, Lieutenant?"

Hawkeye listens attentively, wondering what sort of advice she can offer. She can't think of any--or platitudes, either--so she simply remains silent.

The question catches her by surprise, and she reacts by blinking at him once. "Ah, we've been summoned to Central City to hunt down a rogue alchemist. We leave tomorrow," she says, her narrowed-eyed gaze flicking down to her half-full coffee cup. Her next words are almost shy. "I've always liked riding on the trains, so that should be fun, at least."

"Ooh, a rogue alchemist," he repeats, glancing up from the catalogue as he continues to browse through it. "Sounds exciting. You have to hunt them down? Are they very dangerous? And I enjoy train rides, too, as long as the seats are comfortable and the company is pleasant."

"They can be dangerous," Hawkeye admits, wrapping both her hands around her coffee cup. "This one has been threatening Central and attacking soldiers."

And the Fuhrer, though she doesn't want to bring that up to Emcee because the last time she mentioned the word, it upset him. "If we're lucky, we'll arrest him. But I doubt he'll come quietly."

"Ah, well, if he's a legitimate threat, then I suppose it's your duty," he says. "Do you know what kind of alchemist he is?"

"He's called the Freezing Alchemist, because he manipulates the properties of water," Hawkeye says, neglecting to mention that he's been killing soldiers by boiling the water in their bodies. "He's quite skilled."