20015/If You Don't Mind

If You Don't Mind
Date of Scene:	05 February 2025
Location:	Apple Park: Salem Center
Synopsis:	A secretive meeting in a Salem Center park finds Marvel Girl and Captain America discussing conspiracies and the enlistment of mutantkind's aid.
Cast of Characters:	Steve Rogers, Jean Grey
Tinyplot:	Reign of Terror

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Steve Rogers has posed:
It began with a phone call. In a world of text and emojis it can be a peculiar thing to receive a phone call. Especially one that features a rather cryptic message. Under typical circumstances such a thing would be cause for a few harsh words and a hang-up. This one however alludes quickly to a particular Shi'ar treaty signing some years ago and after that cryptic identifier is provided, a meeting is requested. The destination being Apple Park near the heart of Salem Center, along with a time later into the night.

Of course it's Steve Rogers seeking to meet with another contact and of course he's keeping a low profile. He's supposed to be dead after all. The winter chill has settled into place with the coming of nightfall and it's because of that same weather that the park is fairly deserted. Save for the occasional jogger, ice skater, or police patrol meandering through the area; it's a pretty quiet place. A pair of benches is the intended meeting spot and Steve's sat himself down on one of them. He's huddled into an old surplus coat and wearing ample layers to protect against the cold. The beard that he's grown is paired with a faded, well-worn Mets baseball cap and that's worn low. His hands are shoved into his pockets and he looks like any other guy just trying to stay warm while having a rest on a bench. It wouldn't be difficult for some to assume that he's planning to sleep on that bench.

He doesn't shiver however and seems to brave the elements with aplomb. The cup in his left hand offers wisps of steam to the cold air and it's likely the one thing offering him any semblance of warmth.

One may note with a long enough observation that he doesn't seem to be looking around or watching for anyone watching him. He's just a guy minding his own business.

Jean Grey has posed:
Spy intrigue isn't Jean's usual thing by a long shot, even if in theory she would rightfully be very good at it. Cutting through all the usual cat and mouse type stuff when you read minds? Definitely a plus!

Still, the normal routine of the X-Men tends toward a neutrality in those kind of political affairs, save where the verge into the territory of anti-mutant action. That kind of crossover does happen, of course, but usually it's in their interest to avoid putting their own stamp on big public actions. There are exceptions, of course, and the Shi'ar (and by extension, the Brood) are definitely one of those. They might even have an Imperial Princess living secretly at their house...

So for this one, Jean does set out to do the spy thing, such as it is. Meeting on a bench in the park is very spy movie, isn't it? Of course, Salem is a bit different than Central Park, and in the winter, it's less 'hide in plain sight' as it is just being in the middle of nowhere with no one to bother you. Jean doesn't look much out of place either, in one of her typical green puffer jackets, black leggings and faux-fur topped boots, she could be any local out for a chilly jog. It also means it isn't too hard to find Steve; thought beacons aside, he's pretty much the only one around.

"This feels just like the movies," she declares, putting that thought into words. "Well, maybe not exactly. But I always thought handing off government secrets in front of the Bethesda fountain was pushing it."

Her cheeks are rosy, by this point, beside a friendly smile. "You know, as much as I've heard of you... I don't think we've ever had a chance to say hi in person."

Steve Rogers has posed:
The voice causes Steve to look up, though only barely from beneath the bill of his hat. The comment earns a smile though and a radiant smile it is. America's smile, really. He offers back a sheepish shrug and answers the observation, that same sheepishness bleeding into his voice to turn it almost embarrassed, "I've saw a few spy thrillers since, well," he doesn't finish that thought because who knows who may be listening. Though if someone thought to tail the X-Men's very own Jean Grey, then it's likely that his subterfuge has already been blown wide open.

Steve rises easily from the bench and moves to greet Jean personally, though he does at least keep his hands contained - or concealed - to his pockets for the time being, "I knew some of the men and women who inspired some of those old tales. Good people," he pauses for a moment to add with an acknowledging nod, "they did some things that would cause pearls to be clutched, but it was necessary."

He clears his throat and with a glance to his shoulder, he seems to take a moment to consider their shared surroundings. Finding nothing and no one looking back his way, Steve's attention shifts forward to regard Jean once again. "I asked you here because in the near future I'm going to need some help," he explains with an almost pleading edge to his voice. "When the world thought I was dead, I decided to take advantage of it. An opportunity to dig deeper and under the radar."

He falls silent then, likely to open the door to Jean's own opportunity to talk. He exhales a low breath that escapes his lips as a steady stream of steam before it's cut off by his lips sealing and a breath claimed.

Jean Grey has posed:
Noticing Steve's continued vigilance, Jean does what always comes natural to her, trying to put him at ease: "If you're worried, I can pinpoint every sentient being in- well, let's just say I've got the park covered. And nudge them not to pay too much attention, for that matter." OK, it's also a bit of a flex! "Drones and bugs are a little trickier but I've got my ways. I suppose maybe a satellite?" She looks up.

"But I think we'll be alright. One of the nice things about living up here is that not many people give it much of a second thought. I grew up near here, you know, just a bit further north. It's nice." And despite the nearly unimpeachably bright, welcoming smile, she answers that bit about those darker days with a rather nonchalant: "I've done worse, I'm pretty sure. So no judgments here, when it comes to saving the world." After that, she listens for a moment, obviously curious about whatever it is that has brought him out here to find her.

"I'm sure I'm speaking for a whole lot of people when I say I'm glad we didn't lose you. I remember the incident, since it happened close to the whole treaty signing. It's not a problem with the Shi'ar, is it? As far as I know, Lilandra has gotten things stabilized a bit more back home."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"That puts my mind at ease," Steve answers back at Jean's assurance that she's got the entirety of the park covered. The mention of drones and bugs does cause his eyes to squint slightly, clearly bothered my that. He doesn't give that concern a voice however. Jean's sure to pick up on the surface thoughts. It's not like he's trying to hide anything from her anyway and, at least toward her, his mind seems to be open. He offers another small, sheepish smile as his hands slip from his pockets and move to unbutton his jacket just enough to withdraw a folder from within.

"I like it up here," he answers back, truthfully. He pauses midway removing the folder from the confines of his jacket to consider his surroundings. He smiles, containing a chuckle that threatens to escape but instead simply causes his shoulders to rock with the stifled noise, "It's quaint. A far cry from Brooklyn."

He looks ahead again and back to Jean, nodding slightly as he peers at her from beneath the shadow of his ball cap. The folder's withdrawn and offered out to her, commenting as he does so, "Everything that I need to share is there. It's the reason I'm looking for your help, your colleagues help, and anyone else with capabilities like your own. If you want to cross-check what's there with my memories? I won't hold it against you. I want you to be certain before you commit," he comments with a firm nod of his head.

Jean Grey has posed:
"I imagine even Brooklyn now is a far cry from what you grew up with. All those hipsters with their avocado toast and microbreweries!" Is Jean actually teasing him a bit? Maybe that's part of that whole bit of keeping him at ease, along with the more over focus on their privacy.

When he reaches for the documents, however, her expression drifts from the more sparkling smile to something more serious. A folder with presumably very top-secret information does fit the trope of the whole encounter, but it's no doubt that the contents must be serious, to warrant all of this - not just the meeting, but the effort at 'playing dead' to the public. She reaches out, hands in thin leather gloves, takes it first and then, after a moment when he suggests verifying the contents, opens it to look at what's actually inside.

"I can't think of a lot of people more trustworthy than the actual Captain America," she demures at first, while scanning the documents, "but maybe it would make you feel a little better to show me, just so I know. There are things text can't capture, after all."

It's with the last that she takes a moment to do her signature gesture of touching her temple, maybe more to show -him- that she's doing something, than a matter of actual necessity.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"You're not wrong," Steve acknowledges with a quiet, but amused chuckle. "It's grown a lot since I was a kid, but that's just life," he acknowledges yet further with a light nod of his head and a smile to join his words, "we can't expect the world to stay the same. It's always growing, it's always changing". He considers the park itself again and takes in a long breath, seemingly indulging himself the crisper, cleaner air. Despite the cold he looks about as fine as one may expect. No rosiness to his cheeks, no sniffles, no chest-clearing coughs. Thanks, Doctor Erskine.

The folder's taken though and Steve sets himself to the task of waiting patiently. Though his smile makes a prominent return when she speaks of none more trustworthy than Captain America, to which Steve of course answers, "Thank you," because one expresses appreciation at a compliment. That's manners.

When Ms. Grey does indicate that she's receptive to having a deeper look to confirm matters and glean greater detail, Steve seems ready to submit himself to it. He takes a deep breath, lets it out, and readies himself. His shoulders visibly relax, his hands open slightly at his sides as though he's preparing to receive a charge, and then he simply stands there. Watching, waiting.

"I, hmm," he pauses a moment as his gaze bounces to the side, then back to Jean before he asks, "what do I need to do? Clear my mind? Think about what you need to see? Just relax, breathe?"

He cracks a smile and it's clear that to some extent there is jest at play. To some extent. There's another part of his inquiries that are sincere and uncertain, though happy to help however he may.

Jean Grey has posed:
"Its a trendy place now. I bet it's nice to see that, that progress. Not something a lot of us get to do, really appreciate the full scope of that change, when we only experience it happening gradually around us."

Steve's display of concern over what he's supposed to 'do' exactly causes Jean to smirk a bit, amused for her own reasons. "You don't really have to do too much, it's not hard for me to go and rummage. But if you think through the memories a bit, just concentrate on them, it does bring it all a little more to the surface, so it's easier for me to get more for less effort. And that's generally gentler on the patient, too." Again, there is some playfulness here, as if implying the whole thing could be dangerous. "Or less chance of me catching your favorite boyhood pinup model by accident."

After that, she closes her eyes momentarily, presumably beginning to do whatever it is she actually does to accomplish all of this. There's no glowing pink energy for something so simple, no sign of anything really happening at all. Indeed, with some cooperation, she barely has to DO much of anything: it's one of those things she rarely speaks of, but truly, it's harder for her _not_ to listen, to keep up the filters she normally does, than to just open herself to it.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"It's interesting to say the least. I never saw it going the way it has," Steve remarks on the subject of Brooklyn and its changes over the years. But then it's time to get down to business. He closes his eyes for a moment, searching his mind for the relevant memories. The few people he's met with along the way. Experts and professionals, some of whom overlap with the world's community of heroes. More than a few times his mind drifts to living on the streets during his time believed deceased. Always pushing toward another object, whether that's an article of discovery or engineering an approach to an individual much like he has with Jean herself.

There are memories of those he's met with over many weeks and months. Always seeking to verify information that he's gathered and turn that into another thread to pursue. From one mission to another has been the progression of his life and work of late, leading to tonight and this very moment.

"You're the expert here, Ms. Grey. I'll do whatever I need to do for this to work and help you out," he answers with a slight nod of his head. His brow has furrowed itself in concentration as he tries to dig deeper, drudging up the details of his findings to reinforce what could be found within the folder.

In the meantime he continues with the request, "If you don't mind and you feel compelled by the evidence, I'd like you to put the word out among your people to help when the time comes".

He, perhaps notably, hasn't thought about any pinups yet.

Jean Grey has posed:
There are, in fact, considerable actual tricks and skills involved in this sort of thing, no matter how naturally it comes to Jean, how nonchalantly she treats it, again probably for Steve's benefit. Due to the prevalance of telepath mutants, and the terrifying reality of what they can do if left unchecked, all X-Men train on defensive techniques. These are not foolproof, but they can be quite effective: human memory is pliable and conscious thought is able to be shaped. People can build up false memories, send an attacker down rabbit holes of irrelevant fantasy.

_If_ this were all some elaborate plot itself, if Steve were an enemy, he might try some of these things. He might have constructed memories to share, false leads. Or he could be brainwashed, thinking he was doing the right thing while actually acting on even deeper programming. The implications of the envelope are serious, so Jean, despite her easy-going demeanor, is actually being incredibly thorough. The talking points are distractions of her own. Telling him to think consciously, seeing what he gives her, while searching on her own.

Heck, even the pinups. Natural, more impulsive thoughts can undermine the best training.

Thankfully, this thoroughness seems to be for not. There is a great deal to see there, but nothing that suggests any of it is false. "I'll definitely bring it to the team. Even if the world isn't always hospitable to us, we're happy to fight for it. I know you've worked with Logan before, way back when - I can't see this sitting well with him. Even as a Canadian."

Steve Rogers has posed:
A breath that he hadn't realized he was holding is released and it escapes on a blast of steamy breath when it seems, judging by Jean's sudden acceptance, that they've concluded the inspection. A nod is offered from Steve to Jean and his smile returns, though it's tense. She can easily detect that tenseness isn't directed at her, but simply the situation he's found himself within. He's handling it admirably, but it's clear that while committed to it he is still concerned over it all. The mention of Logan and his status as a Canadian receives a small shrug, his smile again tugging at his mouth, "I've served with a lot of great Canadians before. They're reliable and I have a lot of respect for them".

Then Steve's hand extends toward Jean. Palm up and his thumb held out from his extended fingers. No doubt she can sense that he's not seeking her hand, but in fact the folder itself. "You're right though," he begins with seriousness flooding his voice, "the world hasn't been fair to any of you and that needs to change. Maybe, hopefully, this can start to lead people toward greater acceptance". He pauses for a moment and his chin dips, nodding toward Jean as he does so, "Besides, most of you are American, right? That's good enough. Those who aren't are doing the country a favor and showing that they're friends".

Steve's gaze drifts throughout the park. While there's not a genuine necessity for it, it's often difficult to break such deeply ingrained habits.

When Cap does return his focus to Jean, he meets her gaze with silent and an opportunity for her to answer without his speaking over her. Politeness. It's great.

Jean Grey has posed:
Any tension or unease is dismissed, on Jean's side anyway, with a light chuckle. "Oh, if anything, I wonder if it's not the other way around, him putting up with us. Either way, this is an old fight. He's not big on letting those go."

When he holds his hand out for the folder, Jean offers it back, again taking the opportunity for a little bit of genre humor: "Oh, so it's not going to self-destruct after I've finished reading." Once he has it, she puts her own hands back into the pockets of her jacket. "The students nearly all are, of course. The team, well, mostly, though we have a pretty international cast. English, Irish, Morrocan-Algerian, Kenyan, Japanese, Russian... plus one or two with alien citizenships or from political entities that don't exist yet." Don't mind the time travelers.

"But it doesn't matter, does it? People like him are threats to everyone." Her look now, has lost the lightheartedness, but the smile is still genuine, reassuring. "We'll do whatever we can."

Steve Rogers has posed:
The folder is once more placed beneath his jacket and it's buttoned up to ward against the possibility of the elements, but also it being seen in his possession. The joke does earn a smile though and bare finger toward Jean, "I got that one. Mission Impossible, right?"

The lightheartedness dissipates however and Steve's left to nod along with Jean's explanation of the team that she operates as a part of and her rundown of its members earns a small smile, "You've got half the world at your back. That's good at least. I - and the all of America - would appreciate their help. Or it should, anyway".

He glances down to the ground and the few footprints pressed into it. He frowns at that. Evidence of their meeting. Not evidence that he truly considers a threat, but nothing more than recognition of the care that he must take while he is by all accounts: dead.

"You're right that it doesn't matter, Doctor," Steve answers with an agreeable nod along with both her and his own words. "When the bad guys show you their chin, you've got to give it a good tap".

Again Steve's attention shifts about despite Jean's earlier assurances. He turns his focus back to her with a knowing smile though. It's clearly that he's remembered the certainty that she'd mentioned having her mind across the park, turning others away from eavesdropping or even taking note of their presence. "I really appreciate your braving the cold to meet with me and taking showing up to the meeting on faith, Miss Grey. I'd offer to buy you a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, sit on this bench," he says with a gesture toward it, "and have a normal conversation; but that's something that'll have to be someday in the future. Maybe when all this has blown over."

Jean Grey has posed:
"There you go!" Jean announces happily when the man, in fact, understood that reference. "We're learning that it's more than just the world, so it only makes sense we work together here to get our shit together, right?"

Gasp, swearing in front of Captain America?!

For the rest, well, Jean doesn't even need to be a mind reader to pick out that lingering concern at even those small signs of their meeting. It's obvious enough. "You head off first. I'll blow a little snow ofver it." And indeed, a little swirl of powder licks at their feet. Even if she suspects he may be overdoing the paranoia, there's no reason not to indulge the possibility that his caution is truly warranted.

Finally, she puts on a winning smile for the last: "Rain check then, for when you're safely back from the dead. Coffee or hot chocolate in the park, or maybe ice cream, weather depending."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"We'll see to it then, doctor," Steve answers over a shoulder as he turns and begins to make his way from their meeting location. The snow crunches beneath his boots and, in parting, he calls back over his shoulder, "Crud, Ms. Grey. Crud!"

He doesn't disappear but, gradually, he does dwindle into the distance.