2580/Seriously, dude, just answer the question.

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Seriously, dude, just answer the question.
Date of Scene: 23 July 2020
Location: Downtown - New Troy
Synopsis: Acting on orders from SHIELD to get some intel on current JLA activities, Agent May takes a stroll alongside a pond with Arthur Curry. She gets what she wants. He gets... her number. Or something like that.
Cast of Characters: Arthur Curry, Melinda May




Arthur Curry has posed:
    It is not exactly the most glamorous of assignments. Tasked with an escalation to try and gather intel from a reluctant recalcitrant and obstinate individual who just so happens to be part of an organization that at one point carried a great amount of weight with the planet. But now... might be mostly defunct. Difficult to tell especially when almost all of its members are reclusive.
    But this one, Arthur Curry... lost Prince of Atlantis, he's not a source that people were straining and fighting over in SHIELD. The videos of his interactions with Agent Drew weren't exactly positive things. They cast the tall man in a light of having no time for governments, or intelligence agencies, let along their agents. Still.
    There had to be a reason he was in the neighborhood of the storied Hall of Justice. Empty these last eight years. But observation continued, the times he'd been sighted remaining mainly on this particular locale. Usually in four block area between the hall... and the pub.
    Which is why the next time the surveillance unit got a ping on the man, they sent word to SHIELD to let him know he was in Freedom Park out beyond the Hall of Justice. And there was the half-Atlantean, sitting on a bench with a hand in a bag of bread while in the pond opposite him Koi seem to expect something, congregating near that particular edge of the man-made lake.

Melinda May has posed:
Black jeans, combat boots, black shirt. Lightweight black jacket, the sleeves partially pulled up her forearms. For once, despite her choice of clothing colour, Agent May's attire doesn't scream 'FED!' at the top of its lungs. Of course, she moves with a certain gait. And while still a good looking woman, she's a little old for the skatepark crowd. She's also not much for disingenuous disguises, preferring to leave that sort of undercover work to agents like Romanoff. Thus, when Melinda May settles herself on the far end of Arthur's bench, kicking her feet out and crossing one leg over the other, there's a remarkably frank and open sense to her body language.

"Fish biting?" she asks presently, watching the Koi make the edge of the water bubble with their attention.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    He'd come to this point each week for the last four weeks, and sat at this same bench each time. And each time he waited for an hour and then... departed. Nothing accomplished, no hint as to the reason, just lost some bread and fed some fish. But then again that might be all it really was.
    Yet when she arrived she caught the burly man there upon the bench, leaning forward as he left the half-empty bag beside him. He's not really the image of what she might well call a hero. The long hair drawn into a pony tail. The wild beard, the scarred eyebrow, the stern visage. Then there's the clothes. Canvas pants, a black t-shirt, and an olive green overshirt give him the look of someone hitchhiking their way across the country, and the chain hanging from his wallet to his belt might seem a touch much.
    But when he turns his head to look at her, amber eyes looking down, then up. Then once again. He eyes her with an openly reserved manner.
    "Mmm," Is all he says at first. Then, with a casual shove, he slides the bag of bread over to her. "See for yourself."

Melinda May has posed:
May cants her head at the suggestion. After a moment, she complies, picking up the bag and pulling out a slice. She pinches a piece off the corner of it and tosses it toward the water... watching.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    The fish are more responsive than the man beside her. They, at the least, have the wherewithal to break the surface of the water, to lightly splash as they strain with their comrades each trying to get at the piece of fragmenting and disintegrating bread. Distantly some other Koi that had thought it better to look for food on the other side of the pond start to swim May's way.
    And for a time, curiously enough... it's relatively peaceful. A nice interlude as the tall man eases back, arms folding over his broad chest and his legs extending. He's much taller than her, but when he mirrors her body language and settles into his seat there is a certain amount of parity between the in repose.
    A few minutes pass in quiet. Until eventually his voice lifts, rough and gravelly. "Haven't seen you around before."

Melinda May has posed:
May continues to toss bread into the pond, watching the fish rather than the man -- though she's entirely aware of him at her side and in her periphery. Agent skillz. She haz 'em.

"No," she agrees. "I prefer New York to Metropolis, as a rule." Nice town, the Big Apricot. Sure beats the hell outta Batsville. But you need both together to get anything close to the Big Apple, in her books.

"'Course, from what I hear, you haven't been around here much, either." A beat. "Until now. So, you know... Thought I'd come say 'hi'."

Another beat. Her expression doesn't change, though maybe her tone shifts subtly. "So. Hi."

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Still slouched there on the bench, still with his arms folded across his chest. He keeps his eyes on the pool, the koi being their usual selves. For a time he chews on the inside of his cheek and waves a hand slightly to the side. "I prefer Boston." Since, he would. Which doesn't explain why he's in this city. Here. And now.
    When she then offers her insight about his presence he eyes her askance for an instant and then says simply. "Oh, is that all that you hear?" Since she brings that up. But then she offers that greeting and it causes him to exhale a small chuff of breath as he reaffirms his slouch, arms tightening across his chest and his eyes focused forward.
    Until finally, a smirk flickers across his features and he says. "Hey."

Melinda May has posed:
"You know how it goes," May says, not quite shrugging, though her tone suggests it. "People see things. They talk."

She tosses another piece of bread at the water, watching the Koi continue their feed.

"Nothing better to do, I guess."

She sets aside the bag, though continues with the half-slice she has remaining.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "Mmm," Again with more a sound than a word. Not exactly agreeing with what she says, but not exactly disagreeing with it either. But there is something about her. It's a thing that eludes definition as he remains there watching the fish and the burbling sounds they make as they search the surface of the water for more food. After a moment extends where they're not being fed he smirks a little further.
    Sidelong he murmurs, "Sometimes it's good to take a moment, reflect, and see where things are going. And where you've been."
    Time drifts past in silence after that. A handful of heartbeats, not too long. Before with her laconic manner she's able to draw forth from him an admission.
    "Arthur," He touches a hand to his chest. Introducing himself at least.

Melinda May has posed:
"May," Melinda replies, using her last name, instead. She's not decided how familiar she wants to get with the man, just yet. And she has the advantage of a last name that sounds like a first.

She nods to his sentiment, regardless, tossing another bit of the remaining bread into the pond. She sits silently for a while, repeating the gesture, until the bread is finally gone and the fish must fend for themselves.

"Sometimes it is," she says presently, picking up the thread of the conversation. "Metropolis is a long way from Boston for an hour's reflection. Why here, Arthur?"

Arthur Curry has posed:
    As an agent she might figure she's experienced a good degree of success. For he doesn't immediately peg her as one, that much is clear. Perhaps she doesn't meet the criteria he holds in his imagination for the cronies of SHIELD, or perhaps he's not in the mind to be suspicious of late. Whatever the reason he seems to draw inward a touch when she asks that question.
    Could be he's loathe to tell, loathe to share of himself. Then again it might be because this might be the part of a conversation where he either tells the truth. Or lies. Or a third option. Telling part of the truth.
    "Friends around here." Which is true. "Trying to get an angle on what they want. Figure out..." He lifts a hand and fingers uncurl to the side. "The f--," He starts to curse, then catches himself and says, "The facts of what they want to do."
    A glance sidelong is given to her. "What do you do, May?" Suspicion perhaps, or polite curiousity. Probably both.

Melinda May has posed:
"I'm a pilot," May replies, leaning back on the bench once more. "Pilot. Firefighter. Clean-up crew. Girl Friday. Depends on the day." Oh, the many hats of a SHEILD Field Leader.

But, it's true. If he's looking to check off boxes like 'officious ass' or 'jackbooted thug' on his List of SHIELD Agent Characteristics, May doesn't really hit those boxes.

Not today, anyway.

Maybe tomorrow.

That said, she's not actually trying to hide the fact she's SHIELD. But she did get the memo that Mr. Curry doesn't react well to authority figures. And May can't really say she blames him for that. She's getting way too old for that kind of crap, herself.

Okay, sure. Not that he's that old. *NOT* the point!

"Your friends talking about getting the band back together?" she asks now, a brow arching slightly.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Those eyes narrow, amber and grim but the way they tighten it might be more to hide the slight curve at the left corner of his mouth. Definitely something about her. Something that belies the words given, and the manner assumed. If he were a pernicious vindictive sort, the Atlantean might well press. But that faint twinkle in his eye, it might grant some hint that the fiction, he likes to play along with.
    "Jill-of-all-trades, then." His arms are still folded over his chest as he remains there, those tattoos lining them giving some hint of the ancient heritage held, but also something more. Something modern, or even Hawaiian if she paid attention. Yet he answers her with a slight tilt of his head and then offers a handful of words. "Who says we ever broke up?"
    He turns his head away, watching the seemingly mindless Koi swimming in their elaborate patterns, pushing against each other, all trying to get their bit of bread. "Sure attendance of the meetings might be down. But we keep on keepin' on." Which might be a curious way to phrase it. Then again maybe not.

Melinda May has posed:
Melinda has spent enough time in Asia, Oceana, and the Pacific to have some idea of what many of his tatoos mean. But, overall, they're not her primary point of speculation. "Really," she says, drawing out the world, tone indicating her curiosity but not any conclusions. Her lips purse faintly. "Well, I guess that's likely enough. There was that big get together over New York way, now that I think about it." SHIELD after action reports did list the JLA as being in attendance for the battle against Brainiac, after all.

"So, what's the deal then? Why the big drop in attendance? Summertime blues?"

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "Mmmhmm," Arthur seems content to answer with that for a moment, but a small chuff comes from him that would be a laugh if he gave it a little more oopmh. Instead he pushes himself to his feet, the wood of the bench creaking and the Koi turning their heads following.
    Arthur tilts his head to the side, "Why do I get the feelin' that you keep three hat racks in your house, May?" His hands slide into the pockets of those cargo pants and he starts to walk down the path around that lake. Just a step. Two. But then pausing as one boot turns upon that walkway. That silent invitation for her to walk with him seen in the shift of body language.
    "And all of them are full?" With that he smirks and then asks in a tone that is suddenly severe, a rumble of a growl as he asks her, "Who do you work for?"
    Which for most people, that might be damned intimidating just to hear such a gruff sound from such a large man. But May, might not even phase her.

Melinda May has posed:
Given May can do a pretty credible growl, herself, when occasion demands... yeah. Not really scary. She bearly arches a brow, as if to say 'Really? You don't know?' Maybe he's not as bright as she thought.

"Well," she says, laconically drawing herself to her own feet -- just in case. Her hands settle casually on her hips. "It's one of those agencies with a really long pretentious name some government consultant got paid a lot of money to dream up. But, we mostly just call ourselves SHIELD. Less of a mouthful that way and I don't have to remember some long, drawn out stretch of obfuscated bureaucratic sidetalk."

She offers a mild shrug. "Settle down, Cujo. If I wanted to cause you a headache, you'd have been reaching for the Advil long before now."

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "Ah," Arthur says as if he had the puzzle all figured out and she was just verifying his guesses. Since of course he's just that smart. But his features do twist up a little, a measure of consternation there though he doesn't let it overcome his initial curiousity. Instead he shakes his head at her as if she was just so damned disappointing.
    But he folds his arms over his chest and waits for her to step over with him if she's going to walk with him. But clear he's not intending to leave her company quite yet. "SHIELD, huh?"
    He turns to the side and murmurs, "How's that Agent Drew doing?" At least he remembered her name. "You guys bust her down a rank or two for messing up the interview? She wasn't that bad, for an intelligence spook." Which might be his own way of impugning her mildly.

Melinda May has posed:
May flips a hand errantly, falling in step beside him. "Nah. They just ran you up the flagpole, is all. Now, instead of Drew, you get me." Isn't he lucky?

Isn't *she* lucky? .oO(Not particularly.)

Another mild shrug. "You know how it goes, Arthur. Alphabet soups don't know how to let sleeping dogs lie." Not that she's saying she thinks they should. "My bosses simply want to know what the JLA is doing, especially since we're all pretty sure that Brainiac clown isn't remotely done with this place." Even if the ship did take off with half the bottled cities. No one's fool enough to think it's over.

"Looks to most of the world like you guys up and called it quits, except when the whole world's on the line. Is that the new deal?"

She holds up a hand, to forestall any potential backlash. "No judgement. Hell, I've tried retiring twice. I get it."

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Another grunt, but that does have him looking at her in a different light, though his expression gives no hint as to that. Instead those amber eyes smoulder but not in the good way. But she's seen enough grim and growly types to know that with a lot of them it's affected to keep people at that distance until they get an angle on whomever it is they're around.
    "Yeah. We didn't call it quits. Just taking a step back." Their steps take them around that pond, some of the fish still trailing after them but most of them having given up on the pursuit of that food to chase after other food, glug glug.
    "Look," Arthur gestures with one hand to the side, "Our thing was always... a touch informal in some ways. Other people might have gotten on, and felt very gung ho. But with me and... some of the others. We did what we felt was right because other people weren't available. None of us..."
    A pause as he walks and his brow furrows, gaze distancing as he perhaps has a small internal discussion, then rewords. "Most of us didn't want to be that role model beacon of hope thing. A lot of us wanted to just be left alone."
    He glances at her, "Right now there are good people out there doing that. Being that hope. But don't worry, we'll be there to carry our share. Now does that help you any?"

Melinda May has posed:
May nods. "It's something to put in the report, sure," she agrees. Coulson-level congeniality she will never have. But she can make nice when she wants to. "Your team has some heavy hitters -- several of them heavier than most of the rest out there. You can see why some folks might get nervous, right?"

Like Fury. And Hill. There are others, but those are the only two who matter in May's world.

"Now, me? I got other things on my mind." Her head cants speculatively, the barest hint of a smile touches her lips, despite his glowering. "Question for you: You're the water guy, right? Care to help me solve a bit of a puzzle? Might not be as much of a headline as duking it out over the skies of New York, but it's got me stumped and I'm betting someone like you might have a bit of unique insight into it that eludes a mere mortal like me." She's actually not being either sarcastic or deprecating in her tone. It's pretty flat, aside from that hint of speculative curiosity. "I have a hunch that solving it might help us avoid more unnecessary loss of life. And maybe even help a kid get his..." she looks for the right word. Teacher? Guardian? Uncle? "Dad back. He's a good kid. And I could use the help."

Arthur Curry has posed:
    They continue along the path, an easy stride and a tilt of his head away from her is all she gets for an answer at first. But then he murmurs sidelong, "Ya know, I can do other stuff than just be the /water guy/." She might see him affect that stern glower. Yet she might be up on reading his body language at this point to realize he's fighting a smirk.
    "But yeah. You need a hand to help some kid, I've got time." A few more steps and he eyeballs her sidelong. "Thing I have to ask though is why me?"
    A beat as they stroll along, but then he murmurs, "Not in the platintive sense, complaining about my lot in life. More as in why particularly me?"

Melinda May has posed:
May shrugs again, her lips pulling wryly to one side. "Partly, it's because I know how to reach you," she says honestly enough. "But, really... I actually do need someone who understands *water*. Well. Ice and water together, but I'm kind of hoping one lends itself to the other."

She glances up at the tall, burley man beside her. "You hear about that ice palace that sprang up in the Bronx in New York?

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "Well, I do have a phone." Sometimes. When he remembers it. But as she brings up the topic of the ice palace he shakes his head. "I didn't, but could be something I can help with." He stops the stroll, folding his arms over his chest and...
    Positively towers over her.
    But he furrows his brow. "I'm willing to help some kid. Willing to help you save people. The minute I catch even the /whiff/ of some crazy government political black ops or whatever thing and I catch you using me. We're..."
    He shakes his head a little, "We're not gonna be friends anymore, you got that?"

Melinda May has posed:
May rolls her eyes. "Like you're going to answer a phone call from SHIELD?" No one really does, after all.

Still, when he stops and glowers, her brows rise faintly. She looks up at him, hands returning to her hips. "Yeah, I get it, Cujo. Down, boy. Look... as far as /I/ know, the government -- and quite definitely SHIELD -- have *nothing* to do with whatever's behind this thing. That's why we're trying to figure it out."

She lets her hands fall and returns once more to that non-shrug that is her favourite off-handed gesture. "All I know for sure is there's an Ice Palace in the Bronx with a bunch of ice monsters guarding it and some sort of slushy pool hidden beneath it. And that it might have eaten the kid's Dad." Guardian. Teacher. Whatever. Important Adult Figure. "I want to find out what it is and there's only so much my sensors can tell me." A beat. "So. You in?"

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "Hey, just trying to be open and out there. Avoids problems." He starts walking along, hands slipping into the pockets of his pants and his gaze distancing. "Don't want you come running to me all," He actually changes the sound of his voice to something almost squeaky, but he does a fairly good job of capturing May's /tone/ as well as her rhythm. 'But Arthur, you didn't specifically say to me I couldn't trick you into a sordid assassination plot with my evil ice queen ways.'"
    As he finishes that horrible approximation of May's voice he points at her as if signing done to the deal that he just showed her what was what.
    But then he continues on, "But alright. I'm in. We save this kid's dad and make whatever's in there pay." Simply as that to him.

Melinda May has posed:
May snirks at the impression... and almost smiles at it. Instead, she rolls her eyes expressively once more. Nevertheless, she nods to his decision, satisfied. She reaches into a pocket inside her jacket and pulls out a small business card that has her name and a phone number on it. "Here. In case, you need to contact me."

A beat. A brow. "You got a number I can use? It'll be easier than ambushing you in the park."

Arthur Curry has posed:
    The card is taken. Looked at. Those dark amber eyes lowered to read it, then back up at her with his gaze narrowed as if not entirely trusting that this /is/ her card even though she just produced it. But then he nods slowly, and murmurs, "Sure."
    That said he digs into his back pocket and produces a black thin cellular device. With the brush of a thumb he swipes it to life and then, while reading the card, keys in a text message that once he hits the send button causes her phone to likely buzz or ring.
    That done he pockets his phone again and the card, then tells her pointedly. "If I ever look in your phone at some nebulous point in the future, and you have my number in there under 'Water Guy'. We..."
    He points two fingers at his eyes, then points them at hers, then back at his. "Are going to have words."

Melinda May has posed:
May's lips twitch. Just slightly. Just enough. She draws out her phone and checks the text, nodding faintly. She doesn't add it to contacts just yet. She'll do that later. Under 'Cujo'. Because 'water guy' is way too predictable.

"Thanks," she says finally, pocketting the phone again. "I'll be in touch when I've got more details for you." Namely, when she's got clearance to bring him onsite... or thinks she can redirect sufficient resources to let him walk in uninvited. Whichever works.

"Take care of yourself, Arthur." A beat. "Say hi to your friends."

With that, she gives him a sloppy salute off her forehead and wanders back the way she came.