19215/Cupcakes and Counsel

Cupcakes and Counsel
Date of Scene:	04 October 2024
Location:	Lounge and Kitchen - Young Avengers HQ
Synopsis:	America officially inducts Vivian into the Young Avengers. Conversation is had about cupcakes and murals, and Vivian seeks America's advice on how to properly lead a team on the cusp of GIRL's big space expedition.
Cast of Characters:	Vivian Vision, America Chavez

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Vivian Vision has posed:
Given that her room-mate is a Young Avenger and Vivian sometimes helps out with support functions it's not all that weird for her to be dropping by. At least when she's not doing Titans things, GIRL things, or actually turning up to college. It's a tough life being a synthetic superhero.

And it's because life is tough she's stopping round to visit the Young Avengers today.

Everyone needs a little R&R. So she's brought a wicker basket full of cupcakes, cookies, and a few bottles of home made fruit cordial.

She's whistling as she works. Setting everything out in the kitchen area, along the counter, neatly in rows. Rows which will almost certainly not last five minutes once the rest of the team finds out about them.

While she deals with all the busy work a little portion of her mind works on her /real/ reason for being here. Art! A cryptic request from Kate Bishop about a mural. Has she made a mural before? No. But that's why her mind is working on it. Researching techniques and styles. Figuring out what materials work best. Checking colour schemes of the furniture and fixtures. What will clash? What won't? How much room is there to work with?

Aside from the wicker basket there's a bag of art supplies hanging off one of the chairs. A sketchbook poking out with samples of her work. Just on the off chance anyone wants to take a look and doesn't trust her holographic projections!

America Chavez has posed:
America Chavez doesn't really have anything that might qualify as a home in the conventional sense.

'Putting down roots.' It's just not her. Transient living spaces, that's what suits the Utopian's need for unburdened freedom best, that aids and abets her sometimes fickle need to pick up and go at a moment's notice.

So she doesn't have a home to return to, and that's by design. But sometimes... sometimes, she does - at least - have touchstones. The places that she can uniquely find comfort in, for a time.

A respite.

Which is what brings her, more often than not, to the Young Avengers' HQ in times when she needs a break. That's the case now, as a shimmery-cerulean star blooms to life behind Vivian as she works on setting out her full complement of baked goods; a second later, the star is shattering into scintillating shards of space-time, floating past Vivian like fragments of flickering glass accompanied with a brief blast of cold as America emerges from the depths. Behind her is an endless, arctic wasteland; she's dressed for the apparently bone-chilling weather with a dark blue jacket, the collar lined with white fur, a red hoodie emblazoned with a white star in the front--

and a pair of black, athletic short-shorts and star-spangled sneakers.

This, to her, is sheer cold outfitting.

A second later, the star-shaped breach in space and time stitches shut; America shakes flakes of frost from her head with the bounce of buoyant brown curls.

And then she brushes by Vivian to immediately and nonchalantly pluck up a cupcake and hitch her posterior up and onto the kitchen island counter.

"Sup, Viv. You good?," she greets, seconds before she bites into the cupcake and, using her teeth as a grip, starts to peel off the wrapper as casual as can be.

Vivian Vision has posed:
It's rare to ever see a typical person just /stop/. Even when an organic freezes in place there is always some motion there. Air moving their hair, the rise and fall of their chest as they inhale & exhale, and if you're very observant? A blink or two.

But when that portal opens? Vivian halts. Utterly.

Her synthezoid senses working overtime. Analysing every mote of data. Scanning, recording, and studying the phenomenon. Planning her next actions in case it's a hostile event. All those Human-like motions stopped to free up processing power.

And then? Then she relaxes. It's just America Chavez being America Chavez. Which is a bit like saying it's Batman being Batman. Or Supergirl being Supergirl.

Someone who casually punches a hole in space and possibly time.

/But/. It's also an ally. And there's no sign of NOWHERE out to kidnap someone. No need to engage any number of combat manoeuvrers she's calculated. Which is a relief because it's always awkward starting a superpowered conflict in another persons place!

"Good day America," she says after a moment. Brushing her hair back behind her ear. "I'm... fine I think. Perhaps a little nervous. Lots of things going on with the G.S. Tereshkova in preparation for launch." A beats pause then she adds. "I thought I'd best spare some attention for Earth related matters while I have the chance. I would not wish anyone to think I was neglecting my existing commitments!"

Hence the baked goods. The cupcakes are little red velvet cakes topped with a cream cheese frosting. Did she consider adding a little blue element? Perhaps. But not every Young Avenger has a flag related colour scheme. And making them match for one team member means having some for everyone. It'd only be polite.

"How are things with you?" Her head tilts to one side. "...I do not wish to pry but. Do your legs not get terribly cold?"

Of course with her sensors the technical answer is obvious. She can simply perceive the thermal readings directly. But sometimes the data isn't everything. Sometimes you're best off asking.

America Chavez has posed:
Parchment paper crumples into a silicone-lined wad against America Chavez's palm when her decadent dessert is freed from its lining.

"'I think'?"

Without looking, she tosses the paper ball over her shoulder; it hits the garbage can lid -somehow- with enough force to send it spinning with the impact as the wad falls into the trash proper.

The power of precision superstrength and an ineffably cool attitude. Probably.

She doesn't pay attention to that. Instead, that hooded brown gaze is focused on Vivian, one dark brow slowly lifting in questioning incredulity until the synthezoid explains just what has her on edge.

She can guess at least some obvious sources of anxiety there. Some giant, purple, universal constants of anxiety. She doesn't voice these things out loud yet, though -- instead, she busies herself dragging her thumb across her upper lip, catching a dollop of cream cheese icing smeared there from earlier, before sucking the sweet substance off that digit testingly.

"Fuck, that's good," says America first and foremost, before her attention turns back to Viv.

"Getting ready for the final frontier, huh?" One forearm draping across her thigh, she brings that cupcake to her lips before pausing to peer at Vivian over its frosted peaks. "And yet here you are, making time for cupcakes and cookies."

Her voice is wry; combined with the slow lift of her brows, it seems like she might - /might/ - just be teasing Viv.

This possibility is only compounded when, instead of answering that question about how she's doing, America takes a bite out of her cupcake, relishes the sugary, velvety-red sweetness, gulps, and off-handedly focuses on Vivian's second question:

"Nope. Wanna check for yourself?"

And barely even offers a second's fraction to consider whether the offer is legitimate or not before she continues, "Sounds like you got a full plate. You want to talk about it, you got my attention." She's earned it for the snacks alone, as far as the Utopian is concerned. America cants her head to the side, considering the synthezoid.

"Worried about how your trip's gonna go?"

Vivian Vision has posed:
Vivian takes the last few items out of the basket. The beverages, which of course, need chilling. The few steps of motion there and back giving America time to sample the frosting and ponder her comments.

"I've been testing my recipes on Molly since high school," she says with a grin. "And I can crowd source all the best recipes to use as starting points. Baking is very scientific so it lends itself well to my skillset."

There's a soft chuckle at the teasing. "Really it's only new to people from Earth," she points out. "Aliens have been all over. And we /have/ been on a previous trip like this but.." She shrugs. "I got hurt for the first time recently. It has made me question a lot of things."

Like America's biology. She does indeed reach out, an attempt to brush her hand against the bare skin. Genuine offer or not. The more sensors she can utilize the more accurate the data after all.

"I've also never been /in charge/. I suppose GIRL doesn't really... Go in on hierarchy. But given I am literally connected to every system on the ship. I am functionally approving every action everyone takes. Consciously or not." She pouts. "I rather suppose yes, I am worrying a little bit."

There's a little awkward cough.

"Do you have any advice when it comes to leadership skills?"

America Chavez has posed:
"Baking's where science and passion meet."

This is America Chavez's first thought on the matter of the culinary arts, specifically confectionery. It comes just before she takes another bite out of that cupcake, lifting it up to consider it like Hamlet considering the skull of the great jester Yorick.

"All the actual chemistry in the world isn't worth a damn if there's no chemistry for the work. I can tell you like doing this. Comes through."

Which is maybe an odd thing for such a typically aloof young woman to say, but, well -- anyone who really knows America knows she does not lack for passion, no matter how detached or perpetually bored she seems.

Case in point: the way she swipes her free hand dismissively through the air with a matter of fact, "Shit's relative," to Viv's counterpoint about the so-called final frontier. "Stuff like that, only really matters what you've seen, not what a trillion trillion other eyes have seen."

Still... Vivian mentions getting hurt. And America turns a questioning, brow-furrowed look the other woman's way, as if silently making an offer to let Viv talk about it if she wants to... or, let it brush past, if it's something she -doesn't- feel like she can speak about.

As with most things between friends, America leaves the choice to open up to them.

Which might be why she doesn't bother to try to stop Vivian as she reaches out to that bare, lower thigh, instead polishing off the rest of her cupcake and stretching out into a backwards lean to inspect the rest of those baked goods -- cookies first.

True to her word, while there is some cold from the weather clinging to that tanned skin, the overwhelming sensation is the healthy flush of warmth, like not even the most extreme of conditions could threaten the Utopian's homeostasis.

America, meanwhile, plucks up a cookie or three, and then pauses. She glances back Vivian's way from her leaned-back position, lips pursing just a bit. Advice on leadership. For someone who has so prolifically just acted unilaterally most of her life, the question brings a pause to the Utopian who so normally seems to have an answer for everything.

The multiversal vagabond leans forward again. One leg bends at the knee, pressing her sneakered heel into the edge of the kitchen countertop so that she can better sling her forearm across the upraised knee; the other leg dangles as she cants her head to the side, and parts lips.

"... It's probably never gonna be simple," America finally says, "but if you want to lead, you gotta make it seem like it is. Don't overthink, don't second guess. The more you do, the more others will."

And with this, America leans forward and stretches out her left arm, until the knuckle of her index finger can tap against the synthezoid's stomach once, twice.

"Trust your gut, chica," she says. "When it comes down to the crunch, it knows what to do."

This might be a pithy truism in most cases -- but America has a certain confidence and casual conviction in how she says it that makes it seem that much more genuine, coming from her. A fact that is underscored almost entirely by how this advice seems to inspire her to abruptly ask:

"Bishop asked you about the mural, yeah? Seems like you've been doing a lot for us lately."

Vivian Vision has posed:
"I just like it when something I've made makes someone else happy I guess," Vivian admits awkwardly. A hint of a blush. "And I take your point. Does it matter how many other people have heard a song when you consider your own personal enjoyment of it? Of course not. If anything sharing the experience should bring you closer so... Who knows perhaps we'll help other life forms to appreciate and understand us in the process."

Her eyes flick downward.

"Oh I got a little carried away helping a Magical Princess. It was quite the adventure. While I am extremely hard to injure it does appear powerful dark magic can still wound me. I've since made a full recovery. I /did not/ enjoy being confined to bed even as a precautionary measure. I get bored far too easily."

The information is filed away. Utopian biology is not something Viv is equipped to unravel in a moment. If she was even inclined to do so. There's getting to know your friends better and there is getting to know them too well. Genetic profiles? Usually the latter.

"Fake it until I make it?" she says with a smirk. "You do know overthinking a situation is practically one of my super powers. It's often an advantage although.. yes perhaps better to internalise any doubts."

She blinks a few times.

"I assume you mean my metaphorical gut," she queries. "My actual emotional decision making is carried out by my emotional core. Although in times of extreme stress I can use any part of my body to boost my computational power." She lets this hang in the air for a moment. "That was intended as humour but also is factually correct."

And technically correct too. And as the saying goes. Technically correct is the best kind of correct.

"I believe the idea was mentioned," she agrees. "I haven't done anything /specific/ about it yet. Just putting together some thoughts to present to everyone. A team mural should really appeal to as much of a team as possible, no?"

There's another little shrug and she twirls a lock of her hair around her finger. "I try to help when I can. Given Molly is a member and several of my friends are involved either directly or otherwise. Yourself included! I... I do not like to think of people who are important to me taking avoidable risks. Being a superhero can be dangerous. But there is no reason to further add to the peril by being unprepared."

Preparation, to Viv at least, ranging from pick me up morale boosting treats to wide scale remote tactical support.

America Chavez has posed:
Oh I got a little carried away helping a Magical Princess.

"Uh huh."

This is not a disbelieving 'uh huh.' Or even a sarcastic or bored 'uh huh.' It's more like a 'this all seems very normal and above board to me' uh huh, they kind of agreement you might otherwise get when talking about a ubiquitous day at the office, or how grueling traffic is.

America Chavez, the walking definition of 'has seen some shit.' When you've been to the Shrimp Dimension, things like Magical Kingdoms just kind of come with the territory.

Still -- if nothing else, it means America almost certainly understands where Viv's coming from -- both from the hazards of magic, and to how stir crazy the other woman can get. From her higher position, America cants her head, a thoughtful frown tugging at her lips.

"Yeah, magic'll do that. Not a lot of physical laws it gives a shit about," she observes, watching Vivian for a moment.

"So, you're really good now?"

It's a simple question. But even if Vivian has said as much, America insists upon asking anyway. After all, physical well-being is one thing. Emotional, well...

For now, she puts a pin in it, if only because of the rising incredulity of her expression is just growing and growing the more that Vivian explains the technicalities of her emotional intuition. She's reached a zenith of bemused brow-climbing by the time Vivian helpfully clarifies,

That was intended as humour but...

And she stays looking -exactly- like that, a perfect statuesque statue of reproach, for five long seconds.

And then the right corner of her lips twitches up, -just- so. -Just- enough.

"Nerd," she concludes, amusement twinkling in dark eyes.

At her prompting, Vivian speaks about the mural -- about her support of the team. America lapses back into her easy silence as Viv explains; tucking hands - and cookies - into the pockets of her jacket, America slides nonchalantly off that kitchen counter again. She takes a few steps away from it before she pauses, stretches out to her full height with the rise of strong shoulders, and then takes a glance Vivian's way.

"I've got an idea of my own," she remarks. "I know a few places here with great mural art. I can take you to 'em, let you see 'em all first hand. See what inspires you. Maybe it'll help you come up with some ideas you're happy with." She tilts, half-turning Vivian's way, but gaze focused on some distant point. "Like you said -- it should appeal to as much of the team as possible, yeah?"

It's a suggestion, hidden behind oblique, roundabout words. But it isn't long after until that intense, dark brown gaze is falling on Vivian again, one brow lifting.

"So if you're gonna be one of us, it ought to be something you enjoy."

It's not like Viv asked. America just made the choice - the offer - of her own accord.

"Seems to me if you want to keep an eye out for your friends, best way to do it is to get down in the trenches with 'em."

Call it a gut decision.

Vivian Vision has posed:
Vivian gestures up and down with her hand.

"Oh I am fine," she assures. "My optics are at one hundred percent efficiency. And you would never know that I'd received a wound to my abdomen. As for my mental state.. I have decided to make some small life changes as a result. I'm improving my hand to hand combat skills for example. I've been complacent in my hero training up until now I think."

She leans against the countertop a little. Then adds "If I'm going to have people rely upon me I need to be able to do everything in my power to keep them safe."

She sticks her tongue out. "It was a job requirement for Interim GIRL director."

When America shifts position again she stands up straight herself. Honestly she seems more comfortable that way than doing the lean. When you can become a sixty ton block you tend not to want to rest yourself on things which aren't designed for heavy weights.

"I've seen some murals," she says brightly. "I often go to places with them with Harper. Skate parks and the like. Sometimes we even manage the visit without anyone trying a super crime."

She beams a smile.

"It sounds like a delightful way to hang out though. Count me in," she replies earnestly. "You know I wouldn't consider any artwork finished unless I was happy with it? Team member or not. I strive for perfection." She picks up another of the cupcakes. "For the road."

There's a step forward. A nod.

"It is rather easier than 'borrowing' a military spy satellite," she agrees. No sense of hesitation. No doubts. "Not to mention there's no point trying to improve my hand to hand techniques if I'm unable to put them into action."

Call it an emotional core decision.