17/Coffee, with a TWIST

Coffee, with a TWIST
Date of Scene:	18 February 2020
Location:	The Coffee Bean
Synopsis:	Steve gets some news about Superman's fate.
Cast of Characters:	Clark Kent, Steve Rogers

---

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark is early; he's always an 'early bird gets the worm' sort of fellow. Sleeping in or missing an appointment? Unheard of, the reporter is always several steps ahead when he's able to be.

In this case, Clark set up in the Coffee Bean an hour in advance, relaxing in the place at a table in the back, with a laptop out. He's getting a little bit of work done, and it made a lot of sense to do that and be certain he didn't get trapped in traffic and miss the meeting.

Clark is seated and dressed in something close to business casual, no tie, and a baseball cap for the Kansas City Royals. The hat is not very effective.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Clark definitely beats his fellow coffee-drinker to the cafe in question. The arrival of the Captain is heralded by the throaty rumble of his Harley, a Knucklehead in cherry-pie-red. He wears no helmet and apparently skirted all of the city cops on the way over in the process -- a separate superpower right there! Killing the engine, he parks and locks it before dismounting from it. A baseball cap, that same ol' Dodgers hat, comes out and gets firmly pulled into place before he even reaches the shadow of the cafe's awning.

In he comes with no bell or buzzer to herald him. A deep inhale is appreciative of the melange of scents that generally attend such a place. He spots Clark easily enough and, yes, there's a quiet snort of appreciation at the shared headgear.

"Almost didn't spot you with that baseball cap," he quips as he saunters past Clark to take his seat at the table. "You ordered anything yet?" A hand is still offered out for Clark to shake if he wants; this burgeoning friendship seems new enough to require it yet.

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark was typing way. Very swiftly, but nothing superhuman: just generally a bit impressive, his eyes on his laptop screen, with a slight reflection from it masking his eyes as Steve approaches.

But then Clark looks up and smiles right away. "Yes, I'm sorry, I cheated with a bagel," Clark answers, lifting his hand to briefly move the bill of the hat in an answering tug. The hand immediately drops to accept the handshake. It's still dead fish handshake, which is only one little smidgeon up from 'limp noodle', but it's a bit more. Baby steps. It gives the impression of a gentle person more than anything else. Or someone that's very anti-confrontational.

"But I've saved all drinking for your company," Clark adds politely.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve's grip remains unfailingly equivalent as to last time, with no increase in pressure or upswing in pumping to make any sort of social point. Returning his hands to his lap, he glances away towards the counter and its hand-painted and -written chalk sign behind.

"Didn't have to do that, but I appreciate it," he comments as to waiting on ordering coffee. "Figure I arrived second, let me pay for drinks." Even as he says this, he's leaning briefly inwards to fish his wallet out of his back jean pocket. "What're you having?" His look to Clark is expectant and rather than leave his seat and loom, he merely rotates to sit on its edge, set to rise to his feet after hearing the order.

Clark Kent has posed:
"I... really? You don't need to do that," Clark says mildly, with as much bite as warm cream. It isn't a false modesty, either, it's a very honest sort of blundering awkwardness, with no actual fight. "I uh, oh," Clark adds, looking at the menu from where he is, as if realizing he forgot to pick something. "Let's... Americano with room for cream," Clark decides, as if he'd been considering going WILD with something like a Soy milk Vanilla Latte, but instead went to the old standby of safety.

Wouldn't want to get too crazy.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Americano, room for cream." An echo of Clark's choice respects it and then Steve rises to his feet. "'s'not about needing to do. It's no big deal. Now, if we were talking half the check at the Ritz..." The man shrugs and smiles that half-smile of his. "Maybe that'd be a different discussion. Be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

Up to the counter he goes and the order is put in. Steve himself orders a mocha, double-shot, for the bitterness to counter the sweet, and a croissant, plain and warmed. It doesn't take long for the drinks to arrive -- this is New York City after all, not some backwater town where there's a conversation and the shots are pulled slow as molasses -- and Steve returns with both drinks as well as his croissant in a baggie. The latter is held in his teeth with no shame.

"There you go. Cream 'nd sugar's over there," he points out the counter space helpfully, uncertain if Clark in his work efforts ever noticed it. Sitting down, he then plucks his croissant from the baggie. "These're pretty good, but not like Paris. Something about 'em in Paris," he notes before still taking a hefty bite out of the pastry.

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark has put his work away efficiently: saving what he was doing, and closing the laptop. It's all stowed away by the time Steve approaches with the drinks, and Clark laughs softly at the teeth holding the food. "Agh, here, I'll take that one," Clark offers, amused and slightly embarrassed, accepting his with both hands. Even so, there's a little slosh of it in the transfer; Clark's hand-eye coordination could use a little work!

"Ooh, that's hot," Clark observes as well, headed to the counter to apply cream, and then wrap two more napkins around the cup to buffer the heat. Clark returns promptly, his cup looking like it has a little napkin diaper, and he sits down again.

"Paris? Have you been to Paris ---- recently?" The tack on at the end was him realizing that, of course Steve's been all over the world!

Steve Rogers has posed:
Even as he chews, Steve nods. However, he doesn't speak until his mouth is clear. Manners over all else -- except around Barnes, who's totally seen 'see-food' more than once, but really, after fighting a war together, 'see-food' ranks low on the list of worldly cares.

"Not very recently. I was thinking about after V-Day, when the war ended. Lots of celebrating. The Parisians like their food 'nd I think I was full of pastries for days once supplies started filtering in through the lines again. Though more recently..." He pauses to think, looking somewhere off over Clark's left shoulder. "Year or two ago. Business."

Ah yes, 'business'.

"You? Ever been there?" he asks of the reporter now, interested.

Clark Kent has posed:
"Yes, but it wasn't for sight-seeing, it was for work. ...Business," Clark echoes, with a quick smile and a subdued laugh that's a little lackluster. He probably didn't enjoy the trip too much, his mood shows.

Clark echoes the politeness without it seeming forced or put-on at all; he isn't doing it to mimic, it's Clark's natural state, though there may be a sense of that he wouldn't judge others even if they were so rude as to put elbows on the table.

"Generally my trips are for stories, but I like it, in a way: I see a side of the cities that the tourists don't," Clark explains, thoughtful. Some personality comes out when Clark's reflective, as more than just a reserved, quiet man. "Lots of business lately? Mine has been close to home."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Clark's flicker of a grin is returned knowingly. 'Business' indeed. The croissant is basically gone but for flakey crumbs by the time Steve is asked of his daily to-do list. A old habit that won't ever die, how he eats neatly and efficiently, as if his phone might go off at any second with an emergency.

Which is a non-zero probability.

"Admit, 'm a little jealous that you get to see that other side," the man shares with a wistful twitch of a smile before he sips deeply of his mocha. "Lately, business has been quiet. Can't complain, really, not when ripples could turn into waves at the next drop of a hat. Haven't had to go abroad either, which is nice. Spent a little time off-world a month or two back, so it's nice to be home." Again, going for the slouch, Steve relaxes back into his chair with one arm slung along its back, his other hand wrapped about his coffee cup.

Clark Kent has posed:
"It can be really important to get a break. At least, I've heard that. I attempt to remind my partner of that, but she's always ready to go onto the next big thing," Clark says, with a fondness entering his tone when he refers to Lois. He appreciates her spark, big time.

The temprature of the conversation shifts a little, as Clark holds his coffee, as Steve relaxes back; it's subtle, though: as if Clark were going to say something, but he's dragging out how to say it, perhaps. And it's just created a little patch of silence.

"Since we met in Centennial park, I've been trying to decide something," Clark begins. There's an uncertainty in it, something troubling, maybe.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Breaks're important, it's true. Used to ignore the concept, but...nothing like a vacation." Someone's rather hedonistic girlfriend is apparently beginning to influence the busy bumblebee of a Captain. Still, noting how the conversation falls not necessarily uncomfortably still, but contemplative, Steve does give Clark all of his attention. Again, it's not intense, but it is focused.

"Happy to be a sounding board if you want one." The offer is genuine. Tilting his head slightly furthers the impression that Clark does have his permission to use Steve as such.

Clark Kent has posed:
A funny little expression crosses Clark's face just briefly as Steve offers the sounding board without having any idea about what the thing could be. It's an appreciative one: like the kid that gets always picked last seeing maybe hope of someone listening to him. Clark turns his coffee a little, moving it and part of a napkin to clean up a slight ring that formed underneath.

"When we spoke in the park, I mentioned certain truth still sometimes needs to be treated with care," Clark begins, his tone uncertain, slightly leading.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Now the super-soldier's eyelids fall to elicit a look more measuring. His mind is attempting to leapfrog about and predict just what on earth would require such a tentative approach in a discussion. Admittedly, his heartrate does briefly jump to a faster pace: could it be that the reporter has dug up some sensationally-dangerous tidbit of information that might land him in trouble if shared with the star-spangled leader of the Avengers?

"Right, I remember this," he replies encouragingly.

Clark Kent has posed:
"But keeping this information quiet isn't the right thing to do either," Clark says, as if he were hedging. There's a stress there that's entirely genuine. Clark's eyebrows knit together and he rubs a few fingers over his forehead, clearly torn. "I haven't talked to my partner about this," Clark says, in a way that sounds like he's stalling, perhaps to work himself around to talking about it.

"She's wonderful, but her zeal might overlook the delicacy of this." Clark seems to reflect, maybe realize he's hedging, and he pauses, looking at Steve for something.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Now Steve's eyebrows slowly rise to disappear beneath the bill of his cap. It can't be HYDRA if the reporter is weighing his work-partner's input on the topic at hand.

Steve's mouth opens and closes, rolls slightly, before he ponders, "Thinking you want to tell it to a neutral party before you tell her?" As if this confirmation might settle him because, frankly, if it's not HYDRA, that's an excellent thing -- but the hesitancy is beginning to make him wonder if it's something more like some long-lost significant other having come out of the woodwork at the very least.

Clark Kent has posed:
"Tell her? Oh. No, this doesn't..." the flames explode on Clark's cheeks, natural and immediate. Poor guy. That got some reaction, but doesn't seem entirely related to where Clark had been leaning with his uncomfortable hedging. "No," Clark says, with a gesture of hand as if to set that bit aside. It does, somehow, make the actual topic easier. For some reason the real thing to talk about is easier than discussing what is, or isn't, going on with him talking to his partner.

"I think Superman is alive," Clark states, instead. He pushes up his glasses a bit as if to add momentum as if he were on a forensics TV show. He drinks his coffee a little too aggressively, and gets it on his shirt, which derails everything to dab at it.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Now that the off-chance of it being something extremely personal, in terms of relationships, is not a possibility, Steve lets out a silent, relieved sigh. After all, he's not some guru of love, not after decades in the ice and no time for any back-alley necking during the War. He still has some empathy for Clark's blushing reaction. Janet spent weeks subtly seeing how many different ways she could get the Captain's Irish skin to flush when they first began dating, after all.

The revelation garners the reporter sitting opposite of Steve a prolonged period of silence. Awkward. Steve nods to himself and leans back into his chair again; he'd unconsciously began to drift forwards in case of a mumbled secret.

"Okay, so you think Superman's alive." Echoing Clark's words is again intented to be a respectful notion, confirmation of what he said. "You're a good reporter. What's your evidence?" By the neutrality of Steve's face, he's not incredibly surprised to hear that Superman is alive -- there have been a few iterations of fame-chasers, after all. He's still intrigued, however, if less than when Clark started.

Clark Kent has posed:
"Let's pretend that I can prove it," Clark says, in a way that quietly seems to say that he can prove it but may or may not want to fully admit whether he can, yet. Which of course, is dodgey in a way. He holds up a palm, flat, towards the table, in a manner of a sort of 'one step at a time' gesture.

"For the safety of everyone, it feels like the best course, to me, to tell you: as the leader of the Avengers. To see what you think is best to do with this." Clark sighs, patting his fingers on the cup.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve outright blinks. Even his mouth drops open a touch. Surprise: have an entire lapful of outrageously-important responsibility!

Covering rather poorly for his reaction, he drops the volume of the mocha by half before he swallows and clears his throat. "That's...a helluva thing to claim," admits the super-soldier quietly, almost sotto-voce. There's enough hustle and bustle that no one can overhear their conversation, but now things just got simultaneously more critical and fragile all at once. Clark continues to get that even, true-blue look. "Because it'd imply a lot of things either got covered up or someone chose not to share...'nd some things've happened since then where an extra helping hand would've been appreciated. Probably had to be a good reason if Superman had to keep things hidden. Never seemed like a selfish type to me, not from what I saw."

He squints at Clark. "You trust me enough to prove it?"

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark watches all of the reactions that Steve makes. Maybe a little bit of listening to heart rate. Clark trusts himself as a judge of character, but not always, not with things that really could change the balance of things in the world. Sadly, this is one of those swings. Superman's return would hit the whole of the world, for certain.

"I can bring you proof if I think it's a good idea," Clark decides, his tone turning a little unsure, still mild. He puts down the napkin. "Somewhere more private, preferably," Clark observes of the area around them, distractedly watching a trio of women chatter and enjoy their drinks that they picked up nearby.

Clark focuses back to his drink, his body language entirely uncertain, unsure of himself, perhaps, with how his feet are pulled back, one hand curled to his lap. "I wish I could tell you why it's taken so long. I don't know."

Quite true. He doesn't really understand it himself. No lie.

"To earn trust you have to give it," Clark answers Steve's question about trust. "But this is bigger than just me."

Steve Rogers has posed:
That level, clear-eyed consideration from Steve continues. His own fidget comes in the turning of his mocha cup in place, little rotations of degrees aided by his fingertips. It's a near-silent little schuff schuff of sound on repeat. Realizing he can hear it, he stops and finally lets out a long sigh.

"That's fair," he allows of Clark's wisdom about trust. "'nd you can have it." In direct counter to how mildly he says this to the reporter comes the sheer idea of it: the trust of the leader of the Avengers. "'cause if he really is alive, it's been a long time since he's come home...'nd if there's anyone who understands about coming home to a different world, it's me. He'll need a familiar face if it's anything like what I went through."

Clark Kent has posed:
"I could go very public with it," Clark says, with a deep, thick breath, that reads entirely of his uncertainty about doing it. The reporter is very torn: which should make a lot of sense. Clark is sitting on what sounds like a ridiculous story, if he can prove this news. How tempting must that be for a reporter, to make his career explode with something like this? The temptation!

"But I think we spoke in Centennial park for a reason," Clark's shoulders sink, and he sits back just a little, looking at his mostly emptied cup. "I've been trying to decide what's best to do with this. For everyone. Including Superman."

It's a lot of choice for a mild-mannered reporter in a wrinkled dress shirt.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Sounds like Superman's made you his personal mouthpiece. That's an honor if he's still alive." Given there's still been no proof presented. Still, Steve continues watching the man across the table in his quiet, keen way.

"Seems like it boils down to two things: one," and he lifts a hand with forefinger out off to one side followed by another for the next point; " -- you have my trust. Said you did, not going back on it unless it gets broken. Two: you said you had proof, but you wanted privacy in order to show me. I respect it. Fact that you've trusted me enough to tell me that you had proof in the first place?"

Steve lifts his brows again. "Not a small thing, Clark. If he's alive..." Now comes yet another gusty sigh and Steve reaches up to run a hand down his face. "World'll be grateful for him coming back. Doesn't matter what the nay-sayers want to spew, 's'all vitriol. Just words. Actions mean more'n words in the end, 'nd Superman was always for the people." He shrugs. "Dunno what more to say about it."

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark reacts with an uncomfortableness that probably reads as humility for being the mouthpiece. He evades that, clearly unsure how to respond about being picked, or otherwise. Clark seems deflated, at least at first, eyes on the table, or maybe through it. There's a lot for Steve's keen eyes to pick up on: the difficulty that Clark is having most certainly.

"What will you do with the proof?" Clark questions, finally. "My theoretical proof," Clark adds, with a glance up, and a thoughtful small smile, leaving room for that disbelief to creep back in, should Steve prefer to disbelieve.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Lightly folding his arms, the Captain glances away from Clark. His eyes go vacant into the middle-distance out the nearby window, thoughtful, introspective. It doesn't take too long for him to return, but Clark does get to watch him think and grit his jaw back and forth minutely. He meets the reporter's eyes again.

"'d take the theoretical proof with a grain of salt 'nd...well, if it's him, then ask him what he'd want me to do with it. Not my job to announce it to the world, not without his permission. I respect privacy just as much as anybody else should if not more. Haven't had much of it since the era of tights on-stage," he quips with a dry, close-lipped smile.

Clark Kent has posed:
"It's a big question, not to be answered lightly," Clark says gently. He himself has been struggling, most evidently. Holding a mighty secret is not a small task, perhaps. Or something else.

"Then you'd want to meet with him," Clark translates. He lifts his coffee cup, the napkin stuck to the bottom, and finishes the last of it, returning it to the table and then curling fingers into the edge of the bottom napkin, clearly for something to fiddle with. The mild reporter seems to have difficulty with stress.

"Ideally he'd return, and resume protecting the planet," Clark observes. "Best case?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Best case," Steve agrees with a nod. "'nd yes, I'd want to meet with him if your proof pans out. Considered him a friend 'nd a coworker in the field of metahumans and the powered. He wouldn't be denied any aid I could grant him with getting settled back in."

The rest of the mocha finally disappears, cooled down to beneath lukewarm, and the Captain wrinkles his nose in passing at the empty cup as he sets it aside. Oh well. A shift in his chair and he goes back to sitting with arms lightly folded. "You want to set a time 'nd place now to show me this proof or reach out to me later once you've had more time to think things over?"

Clark Kent has posed:
"Well," Clark says, with a limp shrug, "After you've decided if the proof is enough, we'll see where things land, I think." Clark presses his eyes closed in a long blink, then opens them, and gives a smile. "Still. I feel better about this. To have some..." Clark hinks over the word he wants, awkward momentarily. "Direction." It comes with a little gesture of fingers out, as if he were trailblazing towards the coffeeshop door.

"Um, yes, we can schedule," Clark agrees, scratching his neck. "I'm not sure where to suggest is best," he adds, but fishes his phone out, navigating to his calendar, as if this were just the same as any other interview he'd schedule. Perhaps there's some grounding there to be found for the shy reporter in that exercise.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve watches the phone appears, his eyes dropping and then rising to Clark's face again. "There's no pressure to immediately set a time 'nd day," he reminds the man, very aware of how much he appears to be asking of the retiring reporter. "You need time to think about it, go think. There's something to be said about the naivety of the world -- nobody else knows about your proof, so who's gonna be breathing down your neck? Me?"

And the super-soldier shakes his head. "Not gonna do that. 'm glad you're feeling better about it as a whole, 'nd that you trust me. I appreciate that, Clark. Might seem a trite thing to say, but it's true."

A spread of hand off of one of his biceps follows along with the offer: "Though if you need a time span, say...reach out to me within 48 hours? D'you need my personal number?"

Clark Kent has posed:
"I've been trying to decide what to do with this for a little while," Clark admits, vague about the time; it'll be hard to tell how long, though he doesn't seem to put a lot of emphasis on it being a /very/ long time.

"At first I felt it was best to let it alone. Now?" Clark sighs. "Maybe I made the wrong felt instinct with it," he says, with some dismay and guilt into the tone. "If you come up with a place, you're welcome to contact me?" Clark suggests, not asking for Steve's personal number or pressuring about it. A card comes out of a pocket: the reporter has lots of cards, given his profession.

"I think you'll do what's right," Clark says, simply, with a mild yet direct honesty.