3193/Give Me a Name, Joe

Give Me a Name, Joe
Date of Scene:	01 September 2020
Location:	Main Foyer: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Clint burns Angelo and Jane uses those medical skills.
Cast of Characters:	Achilles, Jane Foster, Clint Barton

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Achilles has posed:
    Weekday afternoons are busy times. Angelo was sent out for emergency provisioning. Which means when his sedan parks in the garage and he approaches the main lobby, he finds himself fortunate to find that the front doors are automated and open for him. Since he has a drink carrier in each hand, each carrier holding four cups of coffee...

Jane Foster has posed:
No rush to run back and forth if you happen to be carrying a heavy pile of paperwork, a slung bag over her shoulder. Moving at a healthy clip, Jane meanders out from one of the lifts and squints up at the sky visible through the lobby. Daytime still; maybe disappointing, maybe not? Her brows arch slightly, hand resting against her brow for a protective shelter to avoid being dazzled. "So close, and so very far," she singsongs, and whomever is monitoring the lift station grins as she bypasses the clear security barrier. In the throng of people, coffee stands out. Mmm. Coffee. Eventually she traces that scent back to Angelo. "Who did /you/ manage to become a gofer for?" she cheerfully asks.

Achilles has posed:
    Snorting, Angelo shrugs his shoulders, "Hard to tell. When a room full of stuffed shirts who have senior agents bowing and scraping tell you that you should go grab them coffee...." He shrugs a bit, "I didn't feel like it was wise to tell them I wasn't an intern, and that I was older than all of them put together." he says, setting the drink carriers down, four cups of coffee in each carrier.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Probies and their friends have all the luck. Be glad they aren't telling you to muck out a forgotten warehouse or designating you on picket duty," Jane replies, rueful and shrugging one shoulder as though she expects trouble. Few manage to escape from the onerous duties of being a newbie in SHIELD. "Looks like you could use an extra hand. Want me to take one of those until you get to the end of the hallway? Presuming this isn't a secret run to see if you got Russian spydust on you again. Tradecraft tests never cease to amaze, do they?"

She manages the heavy bookbag carefully, and the tablet she totes around stays securely in its bump-proof case at the top.

Achilles has posed:
    Eyeing the bookbag and tablet, Angelo narrows his eyes a bit. "I mean, I ran through the scanner on my way out -and- my way back in. I'm pretty sure I'm not dusted, bugged or otherwise tagged. So unless they made me inhale something that won't activate for a few hours, which I admit -is- a possibility, I should be good. Especially if none of them detect the ingestible micro-trackers that I put in two of the coffee cups just to see if they'd catch it or not..." Angelo pauses and gives his best 'I am so innocent' look, which works about as well as it would on a seven year old. IE: Not at all.

Clint Barton has posed:
Coming the opposite direction, out from the offices, is a man on a mission (figuratively), with gymbag in hand. Senior Agent Clint Barton isn't seen in the halls very often, what with his Avengers gig, but the sightings are becoming more and more frequent. He's dressed in 'usual' for him, that is, dark jeans, pull over purple shift and a pair of workboots. On his head sits a pair of sunglasses.

The smell of coffee certainly does get his attention, and blue eyes easily find the 'culprit'. So, his path changes slightly to greet the pair, and suddenly he's reaching out for a cup.

"For me? That'd be awesome, thanks.."

Jane Foster has posed:
A hint of a smile shows. "You don't see the dust. The scanner wouldn't pick it up either, the traces come through other methods. Perfect technique to see who you have been in touch with and who you compromised." The brunette astronomer doesn't seem very bothered about that, as nonplussed as one gets with security issues being high on the radar for any organization. "Nasty stuff, that chemical that makes it hard to see. I imagine Fitz has a good time formulating and breaking down the other formulations used in different services." She winks, still, untroubled enough. Though if Angelo hands over a coffee carrier, Jane takes one.

More frequent sightings of everyone's favourite archer gets a smile out of her, and she tips her head. "See, benefits of rank. Afternoon, agent."

Achilles has posed:
    Of course Angelo hands over a carrier. Just in time to have the one remaining suddenly off balance as a cup gets removed. "Whoa!" he announces as he tries to recover, sloshing hot coffee onto his arm and glancing to Clint. The senior agent gets a briefly darkened look, but Angelo isn't senior enough to snap at the guy. Nope. Well, not in -this- organization at least.
    But after Clint takes a sip, he asks aloud of Jane, "Is there a way to detect the tracker compound? I lost track of which cups I put them in."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint liberates a cup and takes a swallow of the no-longer scalding liquid, making a 'mmm' noise, just after offering a 'salute' with it. "Morn-" and the archer leans to look outside before he amends, "Afternoon."

Brows do rise, however, at the comment regarding the tracker. "Are you saying that you brought a tracker into the Trisk." It's a statement rather than a question. "And that you lost track of which cup it was in..." He isn't looking concerned that he might have had it, nope...

Believe it or not? He's one of the more 'company guys'; gets his orders and carries them out. He's a sniper and a spy.

Blue eyes narrow and he tries to place the man. "So," and keen blue eyes are leveled at the man, "tell me again what was in the coffee? Other than those others, which have been poisoned with sugar and cream on the side."

Jane Foster has posed:
Hot coffee poured over someone tends to produce the result of jumping back or going stock-still.

It's stock still that Jane favours, freezing and wincing all the same in sympathy and horror for the burns about to be inflicted. "Take this, please," she says to Clint without hesitation. If he takes the carrier she has, great. If not, it goes on the floor and she immediately flips open her bag. "I'm certified in first aid among other things. No need for triage or surgery on the floor, but let me take a look at that before you end up with a rather nasty burn. I have a bottle of water and a handkerchief in here." A short distance away is the elevator with its emergency station, so it's not like she is far from gauze and other things.

A bit of a frown forms, her expression one of concentration. "We can talk about Russian trade craft secrets later."

Achilles has posed:
    Grimacing at the heat, Angelo manages to keep the tray in his hand while he waits. Jane's attentiveness is welcomed, and he shrugs his free shoulder before transferring his own tray to the free hand. "Please forgive a probie his latest attempt at poor humor sir." he says to Clint as he holds his hand out for Jane to work with. There are some minor burns there, but not as bad as they should be. "Though I think you may be wasting your time Agent Foster. I have unfair advantages there.... as I am sure you are aware of."
    His eyes flicker to Clint and he grimaces a bit before saying, "I'd offer my hand but..." A shrug and he adds, "In case we have not had proper introductions in our brief meetings before, I am Agent Tampambulos, or just Angelo for short."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint drops his bag, shifts his coffee to the right hand, and takes the hastily moved carrier with his left. A step back is taken, but he's never far from hovering over his bag, and so shifts it with a booted foot so it's out of the way. Knowledge of first aid is good! And good to know who offers it. Everyone has that 'field expediency' thing, but knowing the 'real stuff'?

"Got water in the bag, too," is mentioned to Jane, just in case.

Aroo? His attention swings around, though, to catch 'Russian trade craft secrets'. A brow rises, but on this, he keeps his own counsel. Noted for later.

"Tam--" There's that moment when he's watching the other man, and with an humored ease, he takes another quick sip of the coffee before, "Barton. I go by lots of names here. 'Hey', 'Hey you', 'Barton', 'Clint', and Hawkeye." There's a quick smile, flickered there and gone before, "I've definitely seen you around before."

Jane Foster has posed:
The wrappings take the longest, since pouring water into a cloth and dabbing at the burned skin before laying it down like a compress is straightforward, but time-consuming. Especially doing it well. She doesn't complain after extracting the makeshift supplies from her book bag. "We should get you over to the nursing station and have them use the gel spray on you. That stuff is sublime when it comes to burns. I think most of us end up there eventually around Christmas time." Her lips quirk, the smile meant to soothe as much as her certain, sure touch does. She knows exactly what she is doing in applying little pressure. Nodding to one of the passersby, she says, "Go have the attendant bring me the first aid kit? Maybe they store that sticky gel in there. The pads will do at least."

Seeing as how all those matters will be taken care of, Clint can be the second soggy handkerchief holder, as she gives up Angelo's arm for that. "Keep that steady, especially since it sucks to have burns on a hand. Are you all right, Barton?" They've been on a few missions together; so it helps. Last time, trying to find Bruce Banner a few weeks back. "You keeping busy or getting called up?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Seriously..." says Angelo as he allows his arm to be manhandled and bandaged and treated, "There is no reason to be this focused. I'll be fine in an hour or so." But he still goes ahead and allows the attention because.. well because despite his age, everyone here outranks him. But he -is- amused at Clint's lack of an attempt at his name. "It's a Greek name. They're kinda difficult at times." he says to Clint once he gives up on talking Jane out of treating him. A Greek man with blonde hair -is- rare enough though. He just grins a bit awkwardly and adds, "I've known a few archers in my time. One even had a bow that could shoot to the horizon." he adds. "Allegedly."

Clint Barton has posed:
There's that moment of 'where do I put this?', followed by the 'damn I have to put my coffee down' manner, but he does set them aside, even if it's on the marbelized floor for a few moments. Clint nods, a smirk rising to his face. "That, Labor Day and Memorial Day. Around here, it's a given someone'll get a couple of weeks off, med leave. It's getting to the point where some of us start a pool."

Senior Agents betting on who gets hurt first?!

While it's plain that Jane is in a 'fuss' mode, Clint's more than happy to let the guy have his arm, and respect is given to the 'walk it off' sentiment. Some things? Just walk it off.

"I can't find it in me to complain that the Avenging business is slow. So, picking up stuff here and there. Have a meeting with the Old Man soonish." Could be today, tomorrow... 'soon'. "So, I guess 'called up'." Which could mean hours in a 'nest'. Overnight. In the rain.

Yay, fieldwork!

"Got anything good you can share?"

Angelo's further response gets a gleam of interest as he reaches to first pick up 'his' coffee, before he retrieves the tray. "Yeah? Bow that could shoot to the horizon, huh? That'd be pretty sweet to get distance like that." Just think of all the variables, though! "Something like that's a prize."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Call it a habit of practice, and because I know what happens when someone with a burn gets called out to a field mission. Besides, if you go into an eval with untreated burns, they can and probably /will/ pull video to see I did nothing. Medical is on my file." That's all Jane has to say about that, and a slapped on bandage will be more than enough. Sorry for the pressure on that front, but she has concerns enough.

Getting days off learns a laugh. "Lucky. If they've got the pool going, then someone might actually have a three day holiday or a three day work week." She flicks her gaze up to Clint and laughs, warm and clear. "Ever a boring day on that front? I can't imagine so."

Fieldwork, totally different for a specialist. She arches an eyebrow at the reference to myth, and grins. "Careful with this one. He knows his history."

Achilles has posed:
    "Guy was my... gods, what is the English term?" Angelo says, eyes lifting ceilingward as he thinks it through. Great Great Uncle? His father was my great grandfather. And... well, let's just say my family tree's branches do curly Q's on the best of days."
    Then he inclines his head, "And on my mother's side, my grandfather was ... oh skip it. You might say that I'm a bit old school."
    "Agent Foster. I will be -fine- soon. Likely before I can even finish my shift.." He sighs and shakes his head, "Was good to meet you Barton. I have a feeling I'll be at the Nurse's station a while."

Clint Barton has posed:
"Yeah, and burns do get infected." See? Clint knows something about first aid! "Not to mention, you go into an eval and they find out you had the chance to get it looked at and didn't? It'll go on as planned, with burns." At least he doesn't have to either 1. go through evals or 2. run them! But, he knows aaaaall about them.

Clint does grin about the pool, though, and takes a couple of steps to the side to set the coffee 'tray' on a random planter, holding on to his prize. "Everyone works for those days off. Then there are the idiots among us that just can't handle that for long." Guilty.

The history lesson that isn't gains polite attentiveness, and his brows rise again, "So the bow is.. where?" Still, it's a question for another day, and there's a *buzz* that sounds in a back pocket. He pauses before he pulls his phone and glances at the screen. With a deft return of said cell back into his pocket, he drops his sunglasses over his eyes, thus obscuring them from view and picks up his gymbag. "Gotta run. See you guys later.. and stay safe, y'hear?"

Time to go.