14627/Polishing the Eagles

Polishing the Eagles
Date of Scene:	06 April 2023
Location:	Archie Goodwin Airport
Synopsis:	Zinda gets Carol suited up for a flight in a real plane
Cast of Characters:	Carol Danvers, Zinda Blake

---

Carol Danvers has posed:
It's not very often Carol Danvers finds herself on the tarmac of an airport nowadays. Unless some big alien beastie or interdimensional ne'er-do-well is attacking it, and even then she's rarely on the tarmac. She's usually hovering over it by at least a few inches. But not today. Today Captain Marvel is off the clock and it's plain old Carol Danvers making the walk towards the Gotham outopst of Blackhawk Transport in a comfortably well-worn brown bomber jacket zipped up against the last lingering chills of winter fading into spring, and a pair of faded jeans and runners. Not nearly so intimidating as Captain Marvel, even if at 5'7" and ramrod straight, she's not slouching to look any less like the athletic, powerfully toned woman she is. But she also doesn't look like she's /entirely/ sternly serious about things. Because those mirrored Aviators shielding her eyes have to be a bit of tongue-in-cheek humor.

Because sometimes you've got to be able to laugh at yourself. And if you can't laugh at yourself for asking an experienced pilot to back you up while you refamiliarize yourself with an airplane's controls when you can literally fly to space... well, what can you laugh at?

And so Carol reaches the door to the hangar, giving a firm little tap-tap-tap before she swings it open and leans her head in, "Zinda Blake? I have an urgent message for a Zinda Blake here?" There's nothing in that voice but good humor and barely constrained glee, like she's trying to come up with the punchline to a joke.

Zinda Blake has posed:
Truth be told, it isn't very often that Zinda gets a call to be a backup pilot, either. Surprised? Yes. Pleased? Even moreso. One of the nice things about being on Blackhawk Transport's board is that you can stash pieces of your vintage aircraft collection in a wide variety of locations.

Archie Goodwin Airport is one of those locations.

After a moment the door opens wide, and Zinda's personality fills the whole entry. She's wearing a black flightsuit and boots, the former unzipped low enough to show a crisp, white t-shirt beneath, along with her vintage Blackhawk Squadron cap.

"That all depends, honey. Does the message involve beer or dancin' girls? Otherwise y'all ain't gettin' much of a tip." She grins broadly, then. "You must be Colonel Danvers."

Carol Danvers has posed:
One eyebrow perks behind those aviators, Carol's chin dips, she draws those mirrored shades down her nose to peer over them... stern, serious... until her lips split into a broad grin, "Oh, you buy the beer and I'll /definitely/ make sure there's at least one dancing girl, hotshot." She tilts her head thoughtfully and murmurs out, "Of course, you're the one doing me a favor. So I guess I'm buying the beers /and/ doing the dancing. Well, either way we're covered. Right?"

Those sunglasses are plucked off, folded, slipped into her pocket and she sighs out and nods solemnly, "That's me. Sorry about... /this/. I mean, I know it's ridiculous. Logically. Like... why am I even /thinking/ about getting back behind the stick?"

She sighs and shakes her head slowly, hand lifting up, running through that short cropped fringe of hair atop her head, huffing out. "I mean, you know why. I know why. Sure I can fly. But... it's not /flying/."

She grins impishly and stage whispers, "Plus, I'm kind of a fan."

Zinda Blake has posed:
Zinda Blake squints a little, meeting Carol's gaze evenly as they go straight to terms. Her expression stays casual, grin playful. Hands plant on her hips, the other blonde leaning in a bit closer... not unlike an officer about to dress down a subordinate. Except for that smile, of course.

"Tell ya' what, flygirl. You buy the beer an' the loser does th' dancin'." She looks the other pilot over for a moment, then steps out of the doorway and tilts her head to beckon Carol inside.

"Well since you're a -fan-, I'll even throw in an autograph. Since you're a fellow pilot I won't even put any restrictions on what or where I'll sign." Wink. Zinda leans in a little clower and stage whispers back. "And honey, you wouldn't BELIEVE some of the things I've been asked to sign..." She steps over and flips a switch to start the banks of overhead lights clicking on.

The hangar is bigger than it looked on the outside, mostly longer, holding probably 10 aircraft in pairs, each from a different era. Beginning with a pair of P-51's up close, F-86's, F-4's, and even a pair of F-15's.

"Wasn't sure what you were lookin' to fly, so I had a few different ones staged. So tell me, honey. Y'all didn't think to bring a flight suit, did ya?"

Carol Danvers has posed:
Carol lets out a noise... well, more of a low chuckle really at that closer leaning, that promise the loser is the one who'll be doing the dancing, "Wait, is it a contest? I mean, you're literally just making sure I don't crash us into the gr-" She cuts off, eyee swidening slightly at that wink and tease about exactly where or what she'll sign. Eyes narrow slightly, glint playfully. "Oh, we'll see about that. I'll try to think of where to get my autograph without distracting myself so bad we miss the tower giving us clearance to taxi."

She smirks and shakes her head slowly, "Oh, I think I might believe them, but...." She smirks and sighs out, "You should probably tell me all the tales just in case, so I can judge my belief in real time." She falls in step with her hostess, right up until that light's clicked on and those lights do that typical industrial *CLICK-WHOOMP* of turning on. And that's about where Carol's mouth falls open slightly.

Eyes dart, slide, dance... she's looking at the array of aviation history almost as raptly as she figures people usually look at their owner. Hell, like she might've been a little guilty of looking at her. "That... is..." She glances sidelong and mutters, "I was figuring like... a Cessna or something. You know, back to /basic/ basics..." She clears her throat and shakes her head. "I did not... I mean, if you've got one I can squeeze into..."

Zinda Blake has posed:
Zinda Blake takes a wide stance, folding arms over her chest and just... beaming... at Carol's reaction. "I took the liberty of checkin' your record... leastwise the unclassified bits of it. Y'all were cleared for multi-engine combat aircraft, and you flew 'R-and-D' machines... which means y'all were a test pilot."

Zinda's boots clomp slowly as she begins walking the flight line, starting with the oldest planes. "When I... came back... it turns out I had a lotta back pay comin'. With no family that I knew of, I had to spend it on somethin'. So this is part of what I call my 'Petting Zoo'. Each one is fully restored and combat-worthy."

Walking past a P-51 prop, she gives it an almost affectionate caress. "Some friends of mine in SHIELD... who lost a bet... installed some simulator tech. Meanin' each plane's got an electronic scorin' box. If y'all are up for a little dogfightin'."

Pausing just past the P-51's, Zinda turns on her heel and cocks her head at Carol. "Whaddya think?"

Carol Danvers has posed:
Carol follows along, still gazing like a kid in a candy store... and if she's worried about Zinda peeking at her official file, or as much of it as she could get her hands on, she's not showing it. Her lips quirk and she heaves out a sigh, "That's... you... /lady/, I am beyond impressed." She finds her gaze sliding towards the pair of F-15s and she bites her lower lip, she might almost /quiver/ with tightly controlled energy... but at least it's not of the 'glowing and about to punch through a spaceship' sort. It's just... you know, eager, awe-stuck /pilot/ energy. And then she snorts out softly, her eyes glancing back to Zinda with monumental will power to tear away from those jets.

"Oh really! Scoring systems, huh? So /that's/ how I lose, buy the beer, and dance for you?" She snorts out and grins broadly, "Alright. I can accept those stakes. But you better not go easy on me. Don't worry, I'm a big girl and I won't cry if I get a little paddling."

She grins all too wide, a moment of absolute, eager joy. "I think we're gonna get along /real/ well, Blake."

Zinda Blake has posed:
Zinda Blake laughs at that, hands on hips again as she strikes up a saucy pose. It looks poster-worthy, even in the flight suit. "Yeah, scorin' systems. Couple of SHIELD fly-boys thought some old gal couldn't use a Quinjet in aerial combat, 'cause it was designed to be a bus."

Blonde brows waggle knowingly at that.

Zinda takes a step back and looks Carol over more closely, then. "And you don't gotta worry about me goin' easy on ya'. That ain't never happened before, and you ain't gonna be the first. Now let's see if we got us a flightsuit that'll fit ya', 'Cheeseburger'."

"And from now on, you can call me 'Blackhawk'."

Carol Danvers has posed:
Carol heaves out a sigh and shakes her head slowly, "Those poor, poor innocent flyboys. I'm sure they never saw it coming." She narrows her eyes and she murmurs dryly, "So should I call you 'The bus driver' because you're taking me to school?" Her head tilts downright coyly, even if her eyes /do/ flicker a bit at that saucy pose. Flight suit bedamned, Zinda knows how to rock it. Damn.

And then the /real/ secret comes out. Zinda knows her callsign. You get nauseous from /one/ ride in the cyclotron and suddenly you're Cheesburger for life. You help _fight off alien invasions_ and the timeless blonde who's about to remind you that you'd be lucky to be second best behind the stick still calls you Cheeseburger.

And she has a _cool_ callsign!

She sighs out and begins unzipping her jacket, pace picking up a bit. Because she's not going to make Zinda wait.

for the dog fight. Not for finding her a suit that fits.

Zinda Blake has posed:
Zinda Blake grins broadly, watching Carol's expressions shift with the changing emotions. "Yeah, they never knew what hit 'em. And in return I'm teaching Aer-i-al Com-bat Man-EU-vers for SHIELD now." She gives Carol one more look-over, then heads towards a door that has 'Lockers' stenciled over it.

"I'm not only the LAST of the Blackhawks, but the Board even approved my use of the trademark as a callsign." She half-turns and winks again. "They figure if I'm flyin', I ain't in the way or distractin' people in the office with my fashion choices."

"I pulled a couple of suits that should fit, based on pictures. Not like you -need- the protection, but it sorta goes along with the package, y'know?" She lingers at the doorway, then. "Take your time to get settled back in. I'll wait."

Several of the lockers are open, each one with an Air Force-issued flight suit, and each one bearing the callsign 'Cheeseburger'.

Carol Danvers has posed:
Carol's eyebrows perk and she tilts her head, eyes sweeping up and down Zinda a little more thoroughly as she murmurs out. "So not the flight suit all the time then? I mean, if you're distracting /entire offices/ with your fashion choices, it can't just be flight suits." She chews her lower lip in the wake of Zinda's oh so charming and thorough enunciation of her new duties for SHIELD and it's all she can do not to smile broad and halfway vacant because... this is just too much. Too relaxing, even with the imminent air combat simulation. Zinda's just got that morale-boosting effect it seems.

Once Carol's past the door stenciled with 'LOCKERS', that jacket's off, hooked in the first open locker, and her t-shirt's being peeled up without a pause, revealing that, if anything, even that costume she wears for heroics hides some details of her figure. She's cut, muscular, what one would likely expect for a woman who's known as much for punching her way through spaceships as the energy blasts she can fire.

She glances over her shoulder and drawls out, "Oh, of course. Always got to make sure my flight suit fits the package. Make sure I'm packed in properly." That voice is oh so carefully neutral as she unbuttons her jeans, whisking them down and chiming out, "I'm keeping the spares... you know, mementos of this wonderful day. Or maybe I'll keep one spare and you can keep one to remember me?"

Zinda Blake has posed:
Zinda Blake lingers in the doorway, arms folded and facing outward. Mostly. "Don't tell me you ain't never seen my posters." she calls out, head turning inward. To speak more clearly, right? "When you're buyin' me beer an' dancing, I'll make sure I'm wearing a skirt." Pause. "A properly-improper one, t'boot."

Does Zinda look? Oh there's a good possibility she'll at least get a glimpse. "You keep th' one that touches your ass, for sure." she replies, in true military fashion. "They should all fit you pretty close. We'll get pictures later, when we're all nice an' sweaty. I'll sign yours an' you sign mine."

Zinda does turn, then, and isn't shy about trying to sneak a peek. "You ain't the only fan, space-gal."

Carol Danvers has posed:
Carol's experienced at getting into a flight suit... it's not /actually/ that different than getting into her costume. If anything, it's easier... even if she might pause once or twice to let the game of Zinda /definitely not looking/ play out. She snorts and snickers softly, turning around to face the doorway as Zinda turns herself, eyebrows perked, standing straight... and doing up the flight suit properly... that zipper must have been tricky. But she's figured it out.

"Well then, if you're a fan I'm going to have to try /twice/ as hard so you don't feel bad about buying the posters or whatever." She clicks her tongue and breezes forward, gait steady, confident, a little fast... because she's eager to get behind the stick and get this game /really/ going. Even if she knows she's not going to win. There's no shame in being beaten by the best.

And if she happens to pause right by Zinda and murmurs dryly, "Oh, I'm thinking about you signing mine alright. Might take a picture before the marker washes off. Oh... wait, you meant sign the /suit/. Right." She clicks her tongue and springs forward again, calling over her shoulder.

"And maybe I'll tell you about me and my owning your posters after a /few/ beers. If you can convince me to tell you the story."

Zinda Blake has posed:
Zinda Blake admires the view rather openly, arms folded and shoulder propped against the doorway as the zipper slowly goes up. She grins when Carol pauses, her own grin broadening as well. "I'll sign the suit for -free-. Anything else? Well that's up for discussion, honey."

She walks out with Carol, then, a little behind and to one side. Yes, she noticed the officer's confidence, the cocky pilot's stride. "Looks to me like y'all got that -package- pretty well contained, alright. I had plenty of pictures of you in-costume to make some pretty good guesses."

Zinda coughs softly, then. "Did you know they got a 3-D computer model of you at SHIELD? Yeah, every one of them suits is gonna fit you like a glove, more or less. Leastwise that's what they told me. Seems some fellas down in Design got a lotta time on their hands..."

"So where are we gonna start? Nothin' says we gotta get through all of 'em in one day, and y'all are welcome to come back anytime. Like in the mornin' after I drink you under the table."