1956/Fighter, Wizard, Ranger, Jane Foster

Fighter, Wizard, Ranger, Jane Foster
Date of Scene:	04 June 2020
Location:	The Knights Table
Synopsis:	Look, an angel and a wizard walk into a bar, meet a knight, and then an adventuring party forms. Also one Doctor Foster.
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Dane Whitman, Aldrif Odinsdottir, Sera

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Jane Foster has posed:
How, exactly, does a girl send out a notice or invitation to someones she has no means of actually contacting? It's not like dropping off word with the Asgardian Embassy in Manhattan will get anything more than bemusement and outright chaos perpetrated in the mightiest of the Ten Realms. Best not to poke Odin. Maybe Heimdall never delivers.

Instead, a hand-delivered envelope ends up at the Avengers Mansion for a Sera of Heven. Specifically underlined as 'Heven' and not 'Heaven,' proving she caught on to Angela's description well. It boasts a location in the depths of Gotham, a time, a phone number. A friendly map! Probably not necessary, come to think, but Jane considers these things. The paper even has a rather pretty trail letterhead for the American Musem of Natural History and it's courtesy of the "Director of the Hayden Planetarium, Dr. Jane Foster."

So. Then, the waiting game. In this case, the Knight's Table proves to be the spot. The Dark Knights? The White Knights? Those two teams are probably playing foosball outside over tacos, but inside is relatively quiet and the patio definitely a favourite given the warm weather. Jane has opted for a table rather than a booth, possibly for the defensive benefits of having fresh air and a decorative tree festooned in little flags for the local Knights team. They face away from the stadium, but it's still pretty outside and she nurses a tasty berry cider and chips matched with a pretty good salsa. One leg crossed over the other, she actually looks relatively comfortable even as she fends off a rather curious diner with a tweet shout-out to the local team -- who isn't playing on a Wednesday -- and three departing locals who get their instarkgram photo with her.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane Whitman is seated beside Jane, mildly amused at the theme and decor of the chosen place. A mug of hefeweizen and a plate of hot wings before him, though he hasn't really started eating, though thankfully it's only newly arrived. He's taken the minor interruptions due to Jane's celebrity in stride.

"Have a feeling our lunch dates are likely to make an entrance." He notes, still amused. Incognito and Asgardians...or...pseudo Asgardians? Angels? Whatever might be the appropriate descriptor...don't seem to go along.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
For one such as Angela, travelling from New York to Gotham doesn't take long. Not even with someone else in your embrace, and that is how Angela and Sera travel together. With one arm around Sera, the red-haired Angel flies high enough that the cityscape below looks like a real world map.

"There are so many cities here. It is like the whole planet is made of metal." Angela offers. Truth be told, Angela really doesn't need directions to find Jane Foster. Or, rather, to track her. Or to HUNT her. It's what she *does*, after all.

Pointing downward, she offers. "There. That is the place on the map." And the descent begins... slowly this time.

Sera has posed:
"Does it remind you of home?," she asks with a touch of a smirk. It did feel a bit like Earth was aspiring to be like Heaven. They're reaching for the stars, they're transforming their world with advanced technology, they've spread capitalism to all corners of the globe. The free market needs a lot of work, it's more lip service than reality.

Sera is delighted to be back in her armor, though of course this is still Earth and wandering around wearing armor is apparently frowned upon. So, over that she's wearing a closed cloak. Less closed as they fly through the air though, it bellows out decoratively.

"You have excellent eyesight my love," she compliments and notices just how .. gothic and dark this city looks in comparison to New York City. "I get it now, what Supergirl said to me. The air is cleaner in Metropolis. Well, Gotham appears to have the dirtiest air of them all so far. Why did Jane Foster want to meet in this hole?"

Touching down, Sera adjusts her burgundy cloak and settles its hood over her back -just so-, then wanders in to the establishment. Where upon she pauses and steps back out, then back in, then out, then in. "Just an aesthetic, not time travel," she says to reassure herself more than alert Angela.

Jane Foster has posed:
The trio back to their patio-side table loses themselves in conversation, phones out and delicious Monte Cristo sandwiches or fish and chips waiting to be devoured. The pace of life trundles along at a slightly slower clip here in the shadows of Gotham's sports and entertainment district, at least before the lights go down and stars try to emerge. They have a ways yet before that hour.

Jane settles into her seat comfortably enough at first glance, but her state of alertness is on par with Nick Fury spontaneously showing up through the door to point accusingly at her. A feline sensitivity for something off would be helpful, but she lacks those skills. Dipping a fresh chip into the salsa, she lifts it to take a bite right as Dane asks a question. Of course. If it isn't a server or a guest calling her name, Murphy's Law says her partner will require a response as soon as her mouth is full. She swallows as fast as she can, the chip lodging like a shard of broken glass in her stomach. Because it must have shuriken-sharp edges. Hence the uncomfortable look might still be present when Angela or Sera enter the building, if anyone wants to prove the All-Father is a /jerk/.

"Of course," she rasps. "Let's try and avoid the Heimlich Manouvre before they settle in." The range of her senses extends as far as the sky and the occasional reference to the astronomy app on her phone, which she doesn't have a reason to check entirely. "Did I tell you I had the eclipse observation approved? Funding and tickets to be sorted out next week, but Darcy insists I tell you another assistant -is- permitted. You have to be able to bury a stake in a desert, though."

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Is that Darcy's way of trying to finally get to meet me in person?" Dane replies with a chuckle, "But all things considered I'm reasonably sure I could handle that particular task. Reasonably." There's a note of humor in his voice as he sips the beer, and notes, more quietly, "Are you OK? You've been on edge all evening. If you think this is going to be trouble..." He pauses, then sits up more straight in his chair, "Scratch that, they're here, I think..." At least, the in-and-out antics of Sera strike Dane as unusual enough to warrant that conclusion.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela is incognito, meaning the tall redhead in the golden bikini-armor is wearing a white cloak (trimmed with red) over her outfit. Also billowing in the wind of their passage to show her full glory. Yeah, great disguise. Releasing Sera, she shrugs and becomes REALLY discreet by pulling the hood up.

"You know, actually it does somewhat." she replies. "Except the smell is much, much worse." Angela leads the way because, well, it's also something she does. Jane is spotted across the way, and only somewhat because of her uncomfortable look. The redhead points, and at least she's not using her sword. "This way, my love."

Sera has posed:
Sera nods her head as Angela bounds forward decisively. "Nice butt," she comments and then her eyes begin to glow and she sings out a little song, extending her arm to point to the jukebox on the wall. She learns quickly. It was playing some emo 90s music but the machine shakes for a moment and then begins to play U2's Angel of Harlem. She releases the magic just as quickly as she summoned it - its job done. The leash of white light trailing from hand to jukebox dissolves in the air.

Sera gathers her hands at the back of her neck and then flicks out her hair. "Mhm. What a dive. Love it." She claps her hands twice to the beat and then waves to Jane and Dane. "By the Goddess, they're a couple and their first names rhyme."

Jane Foster has posed:
With a coat wrapped around her shoulders and pretty spaghetti-strap top framing several stars on a thin necklace, Jane cuts the line between business casual and date wear. Or in her case, comfortable. "You have two weeks to decide, but a solar eclipse is too priceless to give up. Between Oman, Tibet, or India, the choice was tight. I think India's out of the question due to air pollution, though. So desert or the high Himalayan plateau," she explains, nudging Dane lightly with her foot. She reaches for her water, rather than the cider, alternating between the two in a perfectly healthy and totally unasgardian way of dealing with things. Because they would never water the mead or the ale. Placing a cool hand on Dane's arm, she murmurs, "I invited them. Best to get this over in what constitutes neutral ground."

Combing her thick chestnut hair wouldn't do anything at this point, so she casts that small, purposeful smile back to the man at her side. She meets Angela and Sera's gaze directly though, for all that may be worth. The smile doesn't fade, another point in her favour. The shimmer of white, if visible to mundane eyes, doesn't produce overly large changes to her expression, but she returns the wave. "Feel free to join us, if you like," she calls over the music. Then to Dane: "Or else we're dancing. Are we dancing?"

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Probably want to see what she wanted to talk about first. After that? I'm entirely negotiable on dancing." Dane gives the new arrivals a once-over, smiling amiably, though he lets Jane handle the waving. Much like Jane, that flicker of magic does not provoke an outsized reaction.

"Well, could've been a lot less outrageous." No comment on the outfits, though they do undoubtedly attract the stares of many patrons. Gotham isn't a city that "super people" walk in daylight in.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
One of the other reasons Angela wears the cloak is to keep her ribbons under control, at least somewhat. As the cloak billows in her wake, however, the ribbons slip out as if conducting their own touch-assessment of the place. "We have eaten at much worse places, Sera. Good choice of music, as well."

The tall redhead walks right up to the table at the wave of invitation, planting her feet as if she were some sort of conqueror. "Doctor Jane Foster and Dane Whitman..." she declares in a loud voice. "We have received your invitation to meet." Hands on hips, she might as well not be wearing the parted cloak now. The locals gawk. Are those real swords? And the boots! Definitely not from Macy's.

Sera has posed:
Sera laughs and shakes her head as Angela undoes the mystery the cloak provided. "What a weird tavern," she comments, her eyes roaming over the few humans in the place. She takes off her cloak and tosses it over a chair, showing off her shiny angelic armour. Hers provides a lot more coverage than Angela's but is still rather risque in the crotch department. What is one to do, fashion is as fashion does even with Angels.

"Bring on the booze," she declares with delight and sits down at the table Jane and Dane have procured. Of her ensemble there is only one thing out of place - a small starkphone stuffed in to the side of her belt. Earth tech mixed with Angelic armour is a weird combination.

Jane Foster has posed:
At least those slender, patterned ribbons aren't waving of their own accord to all the people they met along the way. Uncomfortable, animated scarfs and bossy cloaks. Their appearance earns a definitely look from Jane, speculative rather than calculating. "We are of a mind, then." Seated on the edge of her seat, she might rise at any moment. The idea of going over the back fence and scarpering up the street probably never dawns on the brunette, but manners count for something. The boots and the space bikini definitely stand out even in Gotham, if Angela's height were insufficient. Thus she raises her gaze to the angel's face and nods. "Ms. Angela, Ms. Sera. Would you be so kind as to join us? There is a list of food and drink listed here." A gesture indicates the menu set across from them. "An extensive supply of liquor, as you would like."

Preferably they will not drink an entire keg but she knows Asgardian mores, and Hevenly ones might require further adjustment in her limited skillset. She gracefully reaches for her cider, hoisting the glass as a mute suggestion. "You are both well this evening?"

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Welcome to Gotham. Not that either of us are natives." Dane offers up, lifting his mug of Hefeweizen in greeting now. He may be seated at a table in a Gotham bar, but try as he might to hide it he still has the air of a warrior, despite the lack of any obvious weapons. A certain readiness, if not quite outright wariness.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela doesn't sweep the cloak back out of the way as she moves to sit; the swirling ribbons take care of arranging that for her. The hood is pulled back, then, and about a meter of thick, red locks spill free. A hand upon the hilt of her broadsword angles it so that it becomes less of a tripping hazard as she settles deliberately upon a chair.

The taller angel rests one elbow on the table, leaning in with her white-eyed gaze shifting from Jane to Dane and then back. "Doctor Jane Foster. Tell me of your affiliation with the Valkyr." She pauses, then adds. ""And what is that you are drinking? It smells fruity. But the winged horse belonged to Dane Whitman, not to you." The white eyes narrow a touch, regarding Dane with a new light of realization.

Sera has posed:
Sera nudges Angela in the side, "See I told you Midgard is full of surprises. I will introduce you to the one that can fly without wings - like you!." She smiles and sniffs some of the condiments left in the basket of the table. A paper napkin is removed and awkwardly attempted to be stuffed back in.

"Pleasantries are nice and all but has your king been notified of our arrival and are we welcome to stay or does he want to fight Angela for the privilege?" Of course she volunteers Angela. Angela is the one who does the biff the best. Sera says, "And are there good sources of income for bounty hunting and assassinations on M.. Earth?"

Jane Foster has posed:
Thumbing the glass lightly, Jane raises the liquor in something of a toast yet to be. A sip refreshes any thirst, fizzy and effervescent, awash in the stories of a faded summer or the lengthy, purple-tinged twilight known in late September before the leaves fully change. Apples and berries, the province of Vermont and New York orchards in their finest season. Perhaps just cause for a little adoration of it, venerating the beverage and hoping, possibly, it quickens her tongue. Angela's blunt statements are taken in stride, without any offense or accusation drawn from them. It all begins with the horse, a smile on her lips. "Quite so. He deigns to let me ride him as the mood strikes, and I do not abuse the boundless gift by asking for it too much. I consider him one of the greatest blessings of recent experience, and I understand why the heavens call so strongly to some."

Another sip; she's foregoing the chips and waiting for the server to come in and ask Sera or Angela what they would like before proceeding. Once he hustles off to put in their orders, if at all, the brunette continues. "We have no king, only an elected president, and he represents a nation of three hundred and fifty million people out of the total seven and a half billion people on the planet. Earth has no single leader." Doom woudl disagree. Jane would argue this, really. She glances to Dane. "It's one of our greatest charms as a location and a people. You could apply for permanent residency, though, with some help, if you intend to remain for long." Her glass lifted again, she swirls the contents around with a roll of her wrist. "As for my association with the Valkyrior, I regret to disappoint you, Ms. Angela. In that I'm not one. The first mortal in centuries to meet the Asgardians and the other realms, which I suppose marked me."

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Strider is a steed of Avalon. Bonded to me by old magic. Old for this world, in any case." Dane notes with a half-smile, though a brow raises at Sera's question, "Uh...we do have bounty hunters, but Assassins are criminals here under most circumstances. And I suspect your type of bounty hunting...isn't like the common type we have. It's usually a very...mundane...job from my understanding."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela looks up at the server, then points to Jane. "I will have a glass of whatever that is she is drinking." The white-eyed woman doesn't open a menu. "And something hearty to eat. Meat. Bread. Gravy. And a little sprig of something green for color."

The redhead actually eases back a little at Jane's admission, settling more comfortably into her chair with a small nod. "It is just as well you are *not* one of the Valkyrior, Jane Foster. We should get along better because of this." Although she doesn't elaborate. "Dane Whitman, there is more that you are not saying. Are you one of the ones that Sera calls 'Avengers', or are you from another place like we are?"

Her long legs shift a little, scooting her chair closer to Sera. "Hunting and killing is what Sera and I do best." she adds. "Although we are honorable, and would never do so without a license. Or without getting paid. Fortunately I *do* have a license to hunt that was granted by the Queen of the Angels." Whose authority is probably of a dubious nature on Earth.

Sera has posed:
Sera thumps a hand to the table in emphasis of Angela's declaration of an Angelic license, "And I'm a wanted fugitive in two realms, woo!" She ahems and smiles, "That is to say, I have a problem with unjust authority." She taps her fingertips on the table top. "Perhaps I shall become the elected president over this world," she jests, "After all honey you don't need any more thrones."

Her gaze returns to Jane and Dane and she says, "Thor informed me that SHIELD could provide me with the necessary legitimate documents for our stay on Earth. If we're welcome here we will be here a long time. It's a nice place. It reminds my love of home and that is a good thing for her.. less so for me, but it reminds me enough of not-home that I'm good with it too." To the waiter she says, "The red wine one thank you," not yet aware there's numerous kinds of red wine, "And for food whatever you're getting for Angela, bring me some of that too."

While there is a playful smile on her there must be some gears turning in her head at the thought of actually running for president of Earth - not that there is such a title. She's seen many things in this world already that have irked her and Zatanna warned her that they cannot be fixed with magic alone.

Jane Foster has posed:
A meal comes easily enough in a place like this, especially when the knights are a verified team and the getup that Angela wears is close enough to 'knight' to count for something. As to actual sports fans, they might not question this exciting turn of events over the cheerleading outfits quite so much.

Jane chuckles softly into her glass. "I judge everyone by their own characteristics and interactions. How is it you came by such a profession? It's quite an unusual one here, supplanted by the legal system of the country. A system of enforcement that has various aspects, like those who investigate, those who determine whether or not a law was broken, those who judge and levy punishment, whether that's time imprisoned, payment of fines or other means of restitution." She is not a lawyer; this is a fact, thus the need to look to Dane for further contributions here. "The only authority to track down people most Americans accept would be someone in their own law enforcement systems. There are international organizations, of course. But when it comes to licensing, we have limited options. Private investigators pursue but don't kill. There are bounty hunters who simply locate the targets, call the police. Make horrendous entertainment shows that are broadcast, or they were when I was small."

All this comes off as very calm demeanor, all in all. Though she shakes her head gently to Angela. "Humans aren't fond of a single leader over us all. We have problems enough with just us. Better to let us work out our differences, and be a friend."

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane cants his head, shaking his head towards Angela, "Heh...I'm not an Avenger...not sure they'd ever have any reason to really notice me. And I'm from Earth. I've certainly had...experiences well beyond normal humans, but I'm still human. Mostly mortal. Just with the advantage of skill, experience, and a fair bit of magical enchantments and items. And Strider." He looks then to Sera and nods, "Oh, I think we can safely say that SHIELD is definitely going to want to talk to the two of you and help you assimilate." He adds, "In the interest of transparency, I am a SHIELD agent, though not exactly empowered to facilitate ah...Immigration in that way. You're lucky though, Jane here is likely one of the people that would've been called in to talk to you anyway." He gives Jane a brief smile, not trying to throw her under the bus but it's likely true given Jane's particular past experience.

"It does sound like the way we do things here might be a little...disorganized and chaotic compared to what you're used to, so that might take some getting used to."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela nods sagely at Dane's explanation. She certainly appreciates how much of an asset a good steed can be, even though she doesn't personally require one. "Avengers... SHIELD... no central government..." she muses, looking over to Sera for a moment. "There was less bureaucracy when I conquered Hel. But at least the drinks smell better here."

Turning back to Jane and Dane, then, she adds. "We are planning to stay here for a while. And as Sera just said, Angels are assassins and hunters and spies. It is what we do. Surely there are those here who would be interested in hiring our services." A head-tilt in Sera's direction again before she looks back to the others. "Perhaps you could tell us about these horrendous entertainment shows? Do you mean that people watch bounty hunters track and kill for sport?"

And the look she shoots Sera afterward suggests that she wouldn't be opposed to that.

Sera has posed:
With all this talk of Strider Sera lets out a sigh. A sad wistful sigh. "I miss Maximus Clop." Proof that she is good at cards in the form of a nightmare. Sera returns the nod of approval at getting paid twice for doing the job once - catch a bounty, get the bounty and also get paid for the entertainment show. She smiles conspiratorially at this revelation.

"If SHIELD wishes to make a deal where by I tell them about Heven and Angels and they give us the appropriate clearances to live here, I'm sure we can come to an accord. I will even throw in a story or two about Angela." Well, most of her best stories are about Angela.

The thought of merchandising pops in to her head too. Who wouldn't want a plastic hat shaped like Angela's, or a t-shirt that says 'Sera is always right' over the chest. "The mind boggles at the possibilities," she muses half to herself. She lifts up a glowing white hand full of magical energy and snaps her fingers. The jukebox jumps again and starts to play 'I got you babe' by Sonny & Cher.

Jane Foster has posed:
In a soft voice, albeit one probably easily picked up by Angela, Jane offers a quick explanation: "Hel is the lowest of the realms, supposedly nestled among the roots of the World Tree. Other sources place it beyond the frigid north, though I fear that's somewhat relative when it comes to space. Classically it is interpreted as entirely underground, though I am to understand that is only partially true." The slightest twinge of her shoulders and a rueful shake of her head speak to amusement, as much as someone on high alert can possibly be. The alcohol's efforts are inhibited by a content well under ten percent; it's fighting a losing battle. "Alas, no one's whisking me away to an Aesir or Vanir library to make entirely sure. Something to be rectified in the future. Same as the Avengers not noticing you, Mr. Whitman." She could go further on that point but the conversation flows in a different direction, and the transition comes easily, one that calls her to be thoughtful.

"People are going to be unhappy if you kill, Ms. Angela, without very clear limitations. Our laws and punishments do not tend to lead to murder. It is common and socially honourable in Heven, is it not?" She's reaching for customs of an unknown realm, but if there's one element on her side, swift learning comes with it. Grasping for an element. "Here, to kill someone even for committing a crime, when a judge has not sanctioned it, holds no honour. It is murder, and you would not be paid for it. You instead would be stripped of your sanction and hunted in turn, I suspect. And no one wants that misunderstanding, so perhaps it's best to rewind the need to hunt to the death and look to a different direction." Cinnamon-brown eyes shift to Sera, as though perhaps seeking explanation or confirmation the ideas are tumbling in from that quarter.

"With that being said, entertainment shows /do/ stage things. You can set a challenge for an audience. They give you quarry. You obtain the quarry and you /get/ paid. Rewarded for the work. No death is required, merely perhaps the requirement to reach them by a certain point, subdue them, or return them with no injuries within a certain period of time. I'm not a show producer, but I know enough. Or possibly they can make something work with it where you can showcase your talents in a more formalized setting." A beat. "Like a duel, except practical skills."

Dane Whitman has posed:
"It could be that SHIELD might find ways for you to exercise your skills with official sanction, but as Jane says, there would likely be...limitations. And probably no TV show." Dane notes, looking a bit humored, "I would suggest definitely working on that sanction and familiarity with...how things tend to work here...before you start trying to figure out our entertainment and media. If you think our laws are chaotic our entertainment is likely chaos incarnate."

Seeing the contemplation on Sera's face he notes, "But it's not an idea that has to be completely dismissed, I suppose." Who's he to get the way of someone making a living? "If I'm being very blunt, the two of you would be considered...extremely attractive by a large portion of the population. If it's a path you want to pursue it would likely be easier than it would be for most. Wouldn't really know where to start, though."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela tilts her golden-winged head a little towards Sera at the 'extremely attractive' comment, and one of those wiggly ribbons slips around the darker angel's shoulders like a teenager on a first date.

"So let me see if I understand what you are both telling us, then." the tall redhead replies. "Assassins and spies do not exist in your society." Admittedly she sounds somewhat disbelieving of this. Not that Angela even knows about the CIA or the KGB, to be sure. "Killing people, even with a legitimate bounty contract and permit, is against the law. Do you not have armies and do you not go to war with each other? I have seen enough on your... television... that I see the contradiction."

Angela shifts in her seat as drinks are brought, and she immediately takes a sip of hers. "This is quite refreshing, for something so mild. I do think that Sera and I should speak with someone in SHIELD. Perhaps there is a bargain that can be struck for sanction or a hunting permit." And she talks about it as casually as if she would go down to Wal-Mart for a fishing license.

Sera has posed:
Sera wiggles her eyebrow to Dane. That curl of a ribbon about her shoulder, that little smirk on her lips - she know she's good looking but doesn't say it, though her body language speaks volumes. "I think I understand what you're saying. There are bounty hunters but they don't kill, they just capture."

She taps a fingertip against the table. "I can see how that'd work and would in fact be more entertaining. The prolonged injustice, dragging it out painfully so all parties involve get the full spectrum of feelings. I had no idea humans could be so cruel." She shrugs and then a hand gently cups the ribbon about her shoulder.

"So this world is chaos, their entertainment is even more chaos. No one is really in charge, no one knows what's going on or what they're doing. By the goddess.. it's a dream land." She chuckles and says, "Well since you both work for SHIELD, why don't you go off and get us what we need and propose the deal I have made. We intend to be good free market capitalists, like any Angel should."

At the inquisitive questions from Jane Sera turns her dark brown eyes to the human and regards her up and down far more closely, though she doesn't have a threatening bone in her body until the magical 'claws' come out anyway. "Hel is a putrid place filled with suffering and abominations. I'm sure the natives consider it quite lovely but it was not so much the destination that surprised me - instead the terms and conditions. Slavery is a good way to piss off a Sera." She nods thusly. "Speaking of which, it seems very few people in this world get to enjoy the fruits of humanities labor. I'm surprised people put up with it. Where are the uprisings? the rebellions." She sighs and seems uncomfortable as her eyes glance around the room.

"Jane," she begins, "before Heven was so criminally cut from the other nine realms we were often hired by Odin to hunt down Asgardians who broke his laws. I was not alive when this was common practice, but I have sung the songs of Angels who were and have since perished. It was part of the contract to destroy those who would defy Odin's will and we Angels always honor our contracts."

Jane Foster has posed:
Dane's point strikes home while the server in a Knights' uniform comes by to refresh water, take any other orders, and eventually wanders off with at least a request for some French fries from Jane. She is unrushed about the whole business.

"Probably no TV show, but that actually would fall under the artistic immigration visa as it might apply. You would be surprised what some people pay for in entertainment," she allows that much, then goes for the water. "Spies exist, sanctioned by governments. Assassins tend to end up jailed." Yes, she knows Cold War spy fiction as much as the next person, Le Carre or not, but certain terrestrial social adages apply. Especially given the man next to her is a self-declared spook, all in all. "We have armies and wars, but I'll forego too much detail and forfeit that description to you." A nod to Dane, unable to resist the smile building.

"SHIELD would need to see to the particulars, which I can provide. Do you have a place you are staying, where they could contact you as necessary? Assuming the Mansion remains a place where you are staying, Ms. Sera." She's polite. This will not be faulted or found with fault. The slender, poised line of her frame does not ease back with time, but it certainly lingers. "Our civilisation at present has only been in this state for a few centuries at best, and the evolution accelerates by leaps and bounds over every passing decade to generation. What may not seem advanced to you is, nonetheless, a marked improvement." No need to tell them about going from Kitty Hawk to the Moon in sixty years, nor the departure from the solar system in that time another sixty past that. "As I cannot speak on behalf of the All-Father," and that golden promise on her wrist might undercut that a /little/, "I advise that on matters of the Tenth Realm and its old arrangements with Asgard, you seek Asgard. Or, if nothing else, Thor Odinson. He's about fifteen miles that way, most days." A gesture indicates New York, specifically Manhattan, with a good degree of accuracy.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane pinches the bridge of his nose and takes another gulp of beer before shaking his head, "I'm sorry, I think we're unintentionally giving you some mistaken impressions. The world is complicated, chaotic, and nuanced. As Jane says, we have all of those things you speak of. Assassins, Wars, the whole works, and far more of it than most sane people are comfortable with. My slightly more cynical take on what Jane just said is that humanity and its' world are both still very much works in progress."

"We can pass on your message to SHIELD and they will definitely get in touch with you, and not only will they likely be able to get you a lot more information on our world and how it functions than we can provide over lunch, they might be able to help you find a way to exist here that...agrees with you without overly disrupting our own laws and customs and such."

Jane Foster has posed:
"I take that blame," Jane adds with a merry little chuckle, soft but pronounced all the same. "Trying to overlap cultural touchstones doesn't work as well, sometimes, as I would like. More cider for me, then. Or that beer, if you recommend it."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela looks pleased, or at least as much as she lets it show, and likely with more than just her drink. "It is settled, then." she declares. "You will take us to SHIELD and we will strike a bargain with them, Jane Foster. If you do not speak for them directly, then you can introduce us to the one who does."

It's just that simple for Angela, really. She leaves the more complicated things... the ones she can't fight or even stab... to Sera. "Sera can tell them stories in exchange. It will be a good bargain. Sera's stories are good entertainment." The ribbon flirts upward to toy with Sera's dark hair, then. "Even the ones where I do not end up splattered with blood."