2377/And That's How You Tennis!

From Heroes Assemble MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
And That's How You Tennis!
Date of Scene: 08 July 2020
Location: Tennis Club, New York City
Synopsis: What's better, tennis or handball? Opinions are tied on this even if they aren't on something like spicy taco coffee. Ew.
Cast of Characters: Patsy Walker, James Barnes




Patsy Walker has posed:
Patsy had been kind of joking about the whole tennis affair, kind of, in that way one does when attempting to sound clever in front of another person -- but then the Soldier had turned the entire idea on its head, making it a potential reality.

And lo, so it has become, this reality: a planned meet-up at one of the local clubs Patsy belongs to, this having four tennis courts inside a large and airy building almost like a small airplane hangar. It's fancy enough, yes, and one of the broad doors is open to allow in the evening sun and breeze; it also lets one hear the splashes and laughing of the pool-goers one section over.

Patsy's punctual herself and already warmimg up by nonchalantly popping a ball off the wall with her racket. She's arrived in a white Aesics tank-top and a brilliantly fuchsia-pink tennis skirt with pleating. It hits her...mid-thigh at best, with spandex shorts beneath in white. Her red hair is pulled back into a high waterfall of a ponytail and her white shoes make soft scuffs as she nonchalantly switches between forehand and backhand. She's at court one, this scheduled in her name for an hour. A water bottle and small sports-duffel is tucked off next to one of the two chairs set back from the net-post.

James Barnes has posed:
There's Buck and Lili. Lili's in her usual mesh vest, bright blue, with reflectors and trim. Her human's in his t-shirt, compression sleeve, loose jogging pants, and sneakers. He owns actual sneakers....though of course they're Chucks. He's got his pack over his shoulder. Lili's gotta have her stuff with her, after all, and so does he. Milkbones, water bottle, protein bars, SigSauer P220, just what you need for a day abroad in NYC. His hair's tied back in a low pony-tail, same as usual.

Buck's got that air of uncertainty, but he doesn't look grim. Only tentative, in a way that makes him look oddly younger - clearly taking in the environment not just with a soldier's reflexes in mind, but also out of sheer curiosity.

Patsy Walker has posed:
It's when one of her warm-up swats of the tennis ball ricochets beyond the edge of her racket that Patsy laughs and turns to jog after it. Luckily enough, the bright green ball rolls in the direction of the service Shepherd and her handler -- who knows if it will survive!

It brings Patsy to realize who's here and she lifts a waving hand as she continues to lope over. Her athleticism is an easy thing of motion in her frame and she pulls up short, tennis racket left to hang at her side while her free hand hands on her hip.

"Hey tiger, nobody's gonna bite you here." A bright grin from her. Patsy then flares out the hand off her hip and echoes it with the lift of her tennis racket. "This is a tennis club! Smell it? Oh, it smells like //tennis ball fluff//." That's a thing, apparently. "Did you bring a racket? I rented one in case you needed it." Indeed, one of the club's models is leaned over by her duffel bag against the chair. "Now, how much about this game do you know?"

James Barnes has posed:
Lili's on-duty, though she can't help glancing at the bar. It's her human that retrieves it. "These used to be white or black," he says, gently. "Back when. They weren't this bright yellow." Lightly, Buck tosses it to her.

Patsy gets a grin at that. "Is that what that smell is?" he wonders, teasingly. "No, I didn't. Don't own one, don't know anyone who plays. So thanks for doin' that. Uh, pretty much nothing, honestly. I think maybe I watched people play a few times, but I don't remember." He's putting Lili into a stay by the chairs, with her water dish by her.

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Hmm." A thoughtful sound from Patsy as she walks along at a comfortable distance from him, attempting to keep herself in his peripheral at all times. She remembers well enough the extreme reaction of unease she saw back at the coffee shop a week back.

"Maybe we'll just hit a ball back and forth then. Yeah, let's do that. Nothing too complicated there. You have to get the hang of it first, y'know?" Her smile is still kind, insinuating no insult or lack of intelligence in the Soldier. The game is just new! "Let's try back and forth across the court first. See the white lines? The outer-most ones," she amends, drawing her finger along in the air to trace them. "We'll keep the ball landing inside there first. You only get one bounce, otherwise it's a dead ball and my point." A wink shot at him. She stoop to open up a new can of balls and sniffs at it, sighing.

"Tennis ball fluff," she murmurs knowingly. Three balls and then another three balls are stashed away in the pockets of her skirt before she walks out to the middle of one side of the court. "Ready?"

James Barnes has posed:
Satisfied Lili's as comfortably as he can make her - she's already lain down in that way she has, when she's read in her human's body language that it's going to be a long wait. Though she hasn't sprawled out. No, she's in proper sphinx position, head up. So, human does things with these balls? And yet she is not meant to play with them? Because that scent is familiar to both Soldier and dog....and it's always meant playtime for them. Her tail stirs faintly. Maybe this is a waiting game. Maybe.

"Sounds good," he says, turning the racket over in his hand, examining it. Still that air of curiosity. He's doing something genuinely new and not of the 'modern and maybe frightening' variety. Something that might be fun. "Okay," he says, taking up his position across from her.

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Let's do this."

A brief Terminator-like impression as the Hellcat plucks a ball out from beneath the interior pocket of her skirt and then gives it an easy toss. It bounces once before she hits it forehand across the net in his direction. It's an easy arc, soft bounce, aimed to land nearby and be easy to return in turn. Patsy gets loosely ready after the ball cross the net, rising onto her toes and shifting back and forth with the net held before herself. Her air is still jovial, but there's now something gleaming in her cornflower-blue eyes: competitiveness.

James Barnes has posed:
He's playing with the racket in his right hand...and he is gauging his strength very carefully. No giving himself away at the moment. Not yet.

She's never seen him move with real purpose, though. Never at anything like the height of his ability....but even in play, it's there. The smoothness of someone who knows his body's capability to the last iota. Buck's quicker than he means to be, and it's clear by the way he hits it that he's holding back, strength-wise. He darts over and hits it back to her forehand, almost *too* gently - gaze darting between it and her.

Patsy Walker has posed:
Patsy can read the manner of the athleticism across from her and a sliver of a smile appears along with the steely gleam in her eyes. She dances lightly back a few steps and then hits the ball back across the net...a little harder.

A distance farther to the left.

A touch more //spice// to the forehand for some serious rotation on the tennis ball.

James Barnes has posed:
Lili is watching all this with the most intense interest. They are playing with the ball and yet she is not included. They are doing it *wrong*. She's too well trained to even whimper or to get up from her respose, but her ears are pricked and she follows it with her gaze. The furry spectator of their own personal Wimbledon.

Buck catches that one, too. Not gracefully, but Patsy can all but *see* him learning. Bringing his training into play, even if it's for a far more frivolous purpose than usual. The *pop* of ball against racket is louder, this time.

Patsy Walker has posed:
A diagonal return across the court and this time, Patsy has to put feet to motion in order to catch it before it gets beyond her. Her backhand is a swift extension of the tennis racket before herself and the ball goes POP-zoom back to the right-hand side this time -- as if to encourage James to begin to dart across the green surface with its white lines.

Bless Lili: best spectator.

James Barnes has posed:
He's not working hard, not even flushed. But he has perked up, that's clear. Grinning a little, which he surely doesn't realize. "I used to," he says, as he barely catches it for a forehand return, "Play handball, when I was a kid. Back with those pink rubber balls you used'a be able to get. No formal courts that I could get at, though they got 'em now. I still play a little with Steve."

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Oh yeah?"

Patsy has to do some darting herself to get to the ball this time. She's not flushed yet either, but her breathing has accelerated. By the shine in her eyes, this is clearly fun to her. Back the ball goes across the court and this time, she's making him work for it: a straight-drive along the interior singles-line.

"I think I know that game. I can see it, a little." She means the manner of how the Soldier moves, in his extensions of body and shifting of weight to plant feet.

James Barnes has posed:
She's definitely goading Buck into action....and he's enjoying it. Even if there is that air of him holding himself back. "Yeah. It's more like what I've seen of racquetball. Never tried a racquet sport before, in fact," he admits.

A nod as he reaches for this one...and misses. Lili shoots him a desperate look as it rolls towards her. I'm staying, I'm staying, why are you doing this to me? "You ever tried it? It's fun."

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Aw yes." A little congratulatory note to herself and then she's settling into a more relaxed stance for a moment. Her chest rises and falls as Patsy then flicks her racket in a gesture towards the tennis ball.

"You can get it going this time, go for it," she says with a grin. "I haven't ever tried handball before, no. What, you think I should?" There's an amused and arched brow towards the man across the net from her as she then shifts back into a readied position, tennis jacket before herself again.

James Barnes has posed:
Buck goes to get it, pausing to ruffle Lili's ears. She gives him an imploring look, thumps her tail. Then he's jogging back to the court. He was apparently observing her closely, for he bounces the ball on the court once, lofts it....and vastly overestimates his own control. The *pop* is loud and it goes zipping past her ear to hit the wall behind her with a solid thump. "Oops," James says, in a very small voice. "And yeah. It's a lot more informal than all this. This is still kinna for fancy folks, but handball's still more a thing of the streets."

Patsy Walker has posed:
Patsy's ready.

And then she's not ready. She leans to one side as the ball zips past as if it were shot from the highest-velocity setting on a ball-launcher and blinks. The sound of the ball bouncing forlornly maybe twice ends with her straightening and looking back over her shoulder at it. It's pretty much dead, blown right out.

She gives Bucky an owl-eyed look for a second before...basically snort-laughing. "Buddy, whatever you put in your coffee this morning, I want some," the red-head says with a grin. "But this place, fancy? Nah." Reaching beneath her skirt, she plucks another tennis ball and tosses it once. "This is pretty normal as far as places go. I'll play handball with you, sure. Bet I can beat you at it." A prim tip-up of her chin and rosebud-smirk to follow before she simply tosses up the ball high...

...and then whales the hell out of it back across the court at Bucky.

James Barnes has posed:
James's own expression is owlish, to say the least. Lips primmed up in dismay, brows heading for his hairline. "Uh," he says, as she gives him that look, all but scuffing his foot. "It's more that....I know it's less so now, but when I was growing up, tennis was for the rich. I mean, like I said. I kind of can't....can't get a grip on it, yet." He taps his temple with a gloved fingertip. "Nah, you can't beat me at handb-"

He's almost expecting this, and he lunges for it, taking it back hand. Doing a better job of reining himself in.

Patsy Walker has posed:
Patsy's shoes squeak on the court as she breaks to the left for it. She's quick, little bursts of speed, and this brings her to the ball in time to send it back across off her own backhand.

"I'll make you eat those words, mister!" she laughs as she then darts back towards the middle of the green, teeth and eyes flashing merrily. "I'll beat you at it!" This competitive streak is a deep one, apparently, she so very certain of herself having never EVER played handball...or even entertained the idea of it.

James Barnes has posed:
"You've never played!" he says, laughing. It's not mockery, though. And then there's a sort of moment of blank realization. His therapist's talked to him about seeing patterns in his life, in the people he knows. It looks like one of them is those who boldly assume that they're capable of far more than they might think at first glance. Looking at you, Steve.

"I just bet you will," he says, as he nearly dives for the ball. His instinct seems to be to try and return it forehand, rather than backhand. Maybe that handball is to blame.

Patsy Walker has posed:
And Patsy's so very ready for the forehand return. Her shoes squeak again as she lunges and literally clears the ground as she brings back her racket in a grand extension of readiness.

//POW!!!//

There the tennis ball goes with enough speed to make the wind of its passing cling at clothing and hair and it hits the back wall with //almost// enough force to break it. Almost. It still bounces a little forlornly back in Bucky's direction even as the red-head rises from her landed crouch with a feminine grunt.

"Damnit. I wanted it to pop," she admits before breathlessly laughing, bringing a hand up before her mouth.

James Barnes has posed:
She's treated to the spectacle of him staring, lips parted, back and forth between her and the ball. Apparently he hadn't sussed out that he might not be the only one with super strength in the room.

"Jesus, lady, is that the goal of the game this century?" Buck retorts, with a quizzical lift of his brows. "Back when I first heard of it, it was just to get the ball out of bounds," he teases, before going to get the ball.

Patsy Walker has posed:
His question just makes her laugh more. It becomes a genuine effort to get a full breath of air at one point, with Patsy bending at the waist and holding her stomach as she continues wheezing.

"Oh my lorrrrrrrrrrrd," she drawls as she finally straightens, taking a moment to look up at the ceiling and fan at her eyes as if to dry them or risk her mascara. Another chuckle or two as she runs a knuckle under each line of lower lashes. "I'm sorry, James, but your //face//. It was too good. You're not wrong though, it's supposed to stay inside the white lines. I just wanted to see if I could get it to pop. My racket angle was funny." She does take a moment to check the strings and actually pick a few back into place using a fingernail. "Next time!" she promises in a cheery chirp. Dear god. She then sets herself up in the middle of the court again, racket at the ready.

"Still think I'm not gonna beat you at handball now, buddy?" A challenging lift of eyebrow.

James Barnes has posed:
"Well, let's say I'm no longer a hundred percenture sure that'll stay the case," Buck allows. He just shakes his head. He's got a few locks coming loose from his pony tail, and he brushes them out of the way, impatiently. Then he ranges back up to the proper part of the court, bounces a little on the balls of his feet.

"So, how're you like that?" he says, conversationally. "I mean, is it just that you ate your Wheaties this morning?" A beat and he adds, "....do Wheaties still exist? Do you know what I'm talkin' about?" The Brooklyn accent is bleeding through, a sign of his ease.

Patsy Walker has posed:
Patsy smiles like a cat might with a single feather stuck to its whiskers. Where's the canary? Only the cat knows.

"I do know what Wheaties are, my dad liked to eat them. Why I'm like this? Gosh, I mean...you want to talk about it from the perspective of nature or nurture?" There's a coy little tilt to her head as she adds, more quietly, almost certain he'll hear her despite the volume basically impossible for the normal folk: "It's a long story and probably better told over something like more coffee. Or maybe dinner, I dunno...but we aren't having Wheaties for dinner." A wink.

James Barnes has posed:
Buck's idly tossing the ball up in his left hand. Patsy's keen enough to notice that there's something odd about the sound of it. Maybe it's the glove he has over it. "I'm curious," he admits. "I'm this way 'cause it was done to me, but I know guys who decided to try it." Yeah. That one big blond meatball who volunteered to be a guineau pig, that guy. Also the guy who gets really green and really big when he gets angry. "Sure," he says. "I love coffee. I especially love white chocolate mochas. I wouldn't'a thought I'd enjoy coffee as a dessert, but...." A little shrug. "I do."

Patsy Walker has posed:
There is something odd about how the ball lands specifically -- when it strikes his palm before his fingers curl to stabilize it. Bucky won't miss how her cornflower-blue eyes flicker to it and back to his face, her own surprisingly neutral about the whole affair but for the gleam of muted interest.

"White chocolate mochas definitely count as dessert. So do blackberry mochas and caramel macchiatos. Geez, now I want coffee," she admits as she straightens in place rather than hunch in readiness, racket still held with nonchalant mastery. There's a moment where her smile fades and tension comes and goes out of her frame before the grin returns, an easy front to wear. "I won't leave you on a cliffhanger too much though. What happened to me, it's half my fault and half somebody else's...we'll put it that way.

James Barnes has posed:
So, for all that Buck would like to think he's the quick and astute one where ladies are concerned, especially in contrast to 'Wait, she likes me?' Rogers....it's not always the case. She can see the idea sort of percolate up like spring water from limestone. "D'you wanna get coffee after this?" he suggests, brows popping up again. Like nothing so much as Lili after she's heard the word 'treat': hopeful he's understood the cues right.

Then he's swinging into motion, lofting the ball and serving it to her, almost lazily. This one isn't meant to be a scorcher.

Patsy Walker has posed:
Okay, this time, Patsy leaves him on a little bit of a cliffhanger. She's settled back into readiness after he lifted the ball and she takes a moment to lightly zip over to send it back at him with equal amounts of casualness.

"I think I'd be delighted to have coffee with you after this, James," she then replies with a smile almost...sunshiny, really. "There's this great place about two blocks down we can walk to. They've got some crazy syrups for the coffee too...like...kiwi and...lavender. I've always wanted to try a lavender white mocha."

James Barnes has posed:
"If you do that, you gotta let me try a spoonful," he says. For someone his size, he moves with a deceptively lazy speed. "I don't know what a kiwi tastes like, to be honest." Buck sends the ball back at her with a pop - reining himself in again, carefully. "But I'd like to find out. God knows I've driven the baristas near me crazy." Every morning, there like clockwork, demanding some new, weird combination. Yes, Mr. Barnes, you can have both chocolate AND caramel in your mocha. Yes, cinnamon, too.

Patsy Walker has posed:
"I'll let you try a spoonful, sure," laughs the Hellcat. She slides to one side and returns the pop backhand, intending to see if she can make him scramble...just a little.

"I mean, this place really is crazy. You can get coffee flavored like spicy tacos. Or with a piece of white cheese in the bottom of it before they pour it. Or fizzy lemon-coffee." She wrinkles her pert little nose. "I don't know about the cheese one, but I might try the spicy taco one sometime just to say I've done it. You only live once and all."

James Barnes has posed:
He pulls a terrible face at the idea. "No. Just no," James is shuddering...and distracted enough that he really does have to scramble to have any chance. He misses anyway, and Lili perks up again. "No cheese. No lemon. No tacos. I've had tacos, I like tacos. I like Mexican food, what I've had of it..."

Then he's padding over to get the ball, with that lazy, animal grace. "What's your favorite kinna food?"

Patsy Walker has posed:
Hopefully his back is turned when he's getting the ball. Patsy's teeth let her bottom lip furl free slowly as she watches him move. Ooh. It's almost too innocent, her expression once Bucky's turned around again.

"Oh, geez. Um. I mean, I'm from California originally, so I've had a lot of different kinds of food. Lots of foodie culture out there. Um. Sushi's good, I like Korean food...but there's nothing wrong with steak and garlic mashed potatoes and a glass of red wine. I order Chinese and Pad Thai a lot, since it's easy when I'm writing. But I also like making a simple grilled cheese sandwich. That's comfort food. What about you?"

James Barnes has posed:
"I've never had Korean," he says, after a moment checking with his memory. "I don't think." He tosses the ball to her, to let her serve. "I like Japanese okay. Are they similar? Like Chinese a lot, and Thai, too. I guess Chinese is my favorite. I mean, Chinese as it's served in New York," A sheepish little grin for that - he knows it doesn't have much to do with how they eat in China.

Patsy Walker has posed:
Patsy lets the ball bounce before then giving it a little arcing pop off her racket. It traces a half-circle over to her opposite hand, where she catches it with a little grin.

"Then we'll say I owe you some of my favorite Chinese food sometime. You've been a good sport with playing tennis with me so far. Maybe one more lob or two and we'll go get coffee?" she suggests with a glance towards Lili in particular. The Shepherd has been respectful and silent so far, but it's clear the young woman is wondering how the dog's holding up.

James Barnes has posed:
"Sounds good," he says, amiably. There's that uncertainty in his face. Like he's someone long bed-ridden relearning how to walk. Pretending to be a real boy is hard. So hard. But this seems safe enough.

The dog gets a glance, and he grins. "Yeah. Look at her suffering over there." Lili looks *so sad* and yet noble, as only a German Shepherd can.

Patsy Walker has posed:
"The paradigm of canine melancholy," the red-head agrees in an exaggerated, almost Shakespearean accent. The tennis ball is held out briefly as a skull might have been for soliloquy incoming. "It is this dratted thing here, that which she cannot have and thus pines for." Patsy breaks the moment with a little grin. "She can have this one though, once we're done with it."

An easy serve back to Bucky and a few more passes until he manages to sneak it beyond the edge of her racket. She laughs and gives him a two-fingered salute off her temple. "Nice moves there, tiger."

Then the tennis balls are collected, bags repacked, Lili handed one of those bedamned green orbs, and off they depart for coffee that isn't spicy taco or cheese or fizzy-lemon. Some weirdness is just too weird.