3506/I Got You Babe

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I Got You Babe
Date of Scene: 22 September 2020
Location: Harry's Hideaway (Bar)
Synopsis: Bobbi and Lance use Harry the bar owner as a proxy for the relationship. I got you babe.
Cast of Characters: Lance Hunter, Bobbi Morse




Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter wasn't back, he'd made that clear to all the SHIELD types that'd listen, he was just here on a temporary basis to be debriefed, and then be on his way. Unfortunately, he'd also need to see about getting a new contract, since his current gig had fired him after his sudden case of HYDRA induced AWOL. Kicker was, he couldn't even tell them where and why he vanished, because it's all bloody classified.

So, when not lazing about his motel room and looking for new gigs on the various covert websites that hosted such things, Hunter was here, Harry's Hideaway. It'd been a favourite of his as an agent, mostly because except for playing the wrong sort of football on TV it was a close to a proper pub as you could find on this side of the pond, not counting the try-hard ones, that went all out trying to embrace theme park Britishness. Nah, Harry's was a good place to sit and drink and shoot the shit with your fellow man.

This afternoon, Hunter's holding court by the pool table, beer on the sideboard, cue in hand, as he knocks one striped ball after the other into the pockets with a sniper's precision, "Don't feel to bad about it mates," he tells his latest victims, before sinking the eight ball and standing up, "You can take a twenty out of my winnings here for a pint on me, no hard feelings yeah?"

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Bobbi walks in to the bar. The place has a real atmosphere. Harry has put up with many a mercenary or SHIELD agents over the years. But Lance here every day.. Bobbi orders a whisky and Harry nods her over to the pool tables. She approaches and puts the whisky down on the side board, as well as a twenty. The jukebox kicks over to the next song:

o/^ They say we're young and we don't know. We won't find out until we grow o/^

Seeing this is one of those man and woman need to talk things, the other players give Bobbi room. She picks up the cue and dusts it with blue and then raises an eyebrow at Lance. He's looking sorry for himself. She hates it when he's looking sorry for himself.

"Harry's worried about you Lance," she says, "hasn't seen you for years and you just waltz back in looking to waltz right back out again," she says and then motions to the table, "Rack 'em."

Lance Hunter has posed:
The men do indeed wisely depart, Lance doesn't even to look back to know why, he just greets her, "Bobs," as he takes a sip from his pint glass. Decent beer, even if it is served cold.

"That's the life of a mercenary, in and out always on to the next job," he explains as he digs the balls out of the pockets and rolls them down to the far end of the table. "Figured with the types that come 'round here, Harry'd know that by now."

Balls assembled, he gets them into the rack all ordered and set, he gives the balls a good back and forth before he centers them and lifts the rack. He hangs up the rack under the table before giving Bobbi her first real look since she arrived, she looked better than when he last saw her. A lot better. "Looks like they got you sorted out then?"

Bobbi Morse has posed:
o/^ Well I don't know if all that's true. 'Cause you got me, and baby I got you o/^

Wearing her black jeans, black belt, and a tight white tank top. Over that a white and light gray plaid shirt, unbuttoned. This is her casual wear. She's not on duty. She may not even be cleared for duty again yet. The StarkWatch on her wrist buzzes a moment but she doesn't even look down at it. That's new.

"Didn't used to be that way though. Harry remembers fondly having you around on the steady," she says approaches the top of the table and casually bumps hips to move in to break. She leans down and eyes down the pool cue and then with a snap strikes. The balls bounce around the table, not a one going in a pocket. She's in no rush.

"Mostly. I got lucky, but things won't ever be the same again. I'm different now and I have to learn to live with the new normal," she says and steps back from the table. Her hair is down, she's not taking 'winning' seriously ..yet.

Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter finds his eyes lingering on Bobbi as she makes her shot, and not just because he wants to make sure she's really feeling better. A hint of a smile appears on his lips unbidden, even as his brows raise at her not checking the StarkWatch.

He doesn't comment, only just watches the shot, shaking his head as none of the balls go down. That spoke volumes, she was drawing things out.

"Didn't take Harry to be that sentimental," Lance says as he bends over to take his shot. He knocks down a solid and one more before he misses on a third. Bobbi's turn, and Lance was very much setting his own pace for things at the moment. "Should remember though, even when I was around there was always work, never could escape it. Now at least I don't have to pretend that work is enough."

There's a look of genuine sympathy about the 'new normal', "Nothing they could to reverse all of it?" he asks. He was curious to know more, but here wasn't the place to talk about secret formulas.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
o/^ Babe. I got you babe. I got you babe. o/^

Bobbi can't help but admire how her favourite British super spy looks. How the heck does he manscape that stubble so perfectly anyway? It's been an impossibly long time since the two just hung out.. outside of work.

May be he was right, may be she did need to make time beyond SHIELD for things that mattered. Mistakes were made, lessons learnt. This latest brush with death was the scariest of them all. The longer she plays at this spy game, the bigger the stakes get. Is this how it goes? saving the world is a skip down memory lane, usually memories with Lance in them.

"Harry has a lot of good memories of you, what can be said, the guys all heart," she says poking her tongue in to her cheek. Who cares about America's arse when you've got actual 007s arse taking pool shots right there. No offence to Agent Rogers, he's the nicest of guys.

Bobbi leans over and artfully strikes one of the smalls now that Lance has dropped a big. It bounces off a cushion and snookers one of the corner pockets without going in, tactically defending the space. She steps back from the table, "I'm betting Harry has figured out that he shouldn't be working all the time too, there's more to life than just the bar." Her StarkWatch buzzes again and she ignores it. She takes a sip of the whisky.

o/^ They say our love won't pay the rent. Before it's earned our money's all been spent o/^

Lance Hunter has posed:
The shaving secrets of Lance Hunter might be the one bit of classified intel he takes with him to the grave. It's like magic. His nascent smile grows a little bit with the proximity to Bobbi and her words don't seem to be hurting it either. "Really? Could have sworn somebody was just at the bar calling him a hellbeast," Lance says lightly. "Guess some people just focus on the negative." He shakes his head, the nerve of those people, right?

Hunter leans over the table considering his shot, he shoots, his ball bouncing off a pocket, and doesn't go in. There's a small shrug for the outcome as he leans against the wall. "Still willing to take stupid risks for the place though," he says, though not with as much heat as he would have even a few minutes ago. "He's got to learn, big hero or no, doesn't matter if they're dead. Not to the customers that matter."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
o/^ I guess that's so we don't have a plot. But at least I'm sure of all the things we got o/^

She leans down and looks down the shaft and then glances over at him against the wall. Without looking she strikes and hits two smalls, one goes in to a side pocket, the other bounces off the felt and back to the far corner pocket. She raises an eyebrow.

"Pot calling the kettle black," she says as she thinks to the most recent beating Lance took at Toshiro Mori's place. Toshiro really wanted him dead. The stakes were lower than 'save the world', but death is still a constant spectre in their line of work. "At least the odds of survival go up with the right patrons at his bar. Someone else'd probably run this place in to the ground."

She lines up one more and gives it a gentle tap and it bounces off the edge near the corner pocket, missing.

She looks up, a smile of appreciation at his proximity is plastered all over her face and then she looks in to his eyes more seriously, "Gene editing is still.. new. May be the glitches can be ironed out, but what's done is done."

o/^ Babe. I got you babe. I got you babe. o/^

Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter seems to know for which incident he's being called out for. "Harry's done way worse than me," he complains good-naturedly before taking a pull from his glass. "Shooting who knows what in his veins, definitely worse than taking a few punches, my nan hit harder than that lot, god rest her soul," he says. Of course according to Hunter his nan was the one who taught him how to throw a punch in the first place, so, hard to say if them punching like his nan was a compliment or not.

He does dip his head conceding the point about the right patrons, "Yeah, but he's got Simmons coming in here, and what's his name with the bow and Widow. One less patron's not going to make a difference, I mean, besides, we know how it gets when I stick around a place."

He takes a couple of shots, two more go down before another easy shot seems to hit the bumper and roll away. "Hope so," he says glancing up from the table. "Hard thing to have to live with," he says with genuine sympathy.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
o/^ I got flowers in the spring. I got you to wear my ring
And when I'm sad - you're a clown. And if I get scared - you're always around o/^

Bobbi stares over at the jukebox, "Geezus who put this sappy shit on." A man in the corner with a long curly beard nursing a stein of beer looks up with sad eyes for a moment and then looks back down in to his beer. Bobbi suddenly feels a little bad for that one and looks back to Lance with an expression of 'oops'.

She sets her jaw and then goes in for the next shot. She hits one of hers, bouncing it on to one of his, which then hits the one she had at the corner pocket going in.

"Harry has all kinds of patrons but~~"

"Would you two stop that," The big man himself approaches with a new glass of whisky and another beer and places them down next to the two of them, "Why can't you talk like normal people." With a grump Harry returns behind the bar.

Bobbi stares back at Harry in surprise and then looks at Lance. "Er. Fine. It's better with you there, ...with me. They look to me as their boss, not their partner." She twists her lips and furrows her brow, then leans back down and tries to tap another of hers in, but only barely nudges it.

o/^ So let them say your hair's too long. 'Cause I don't care with you I can't go wrong
Then put your little hand in mine. There ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb o/^

Lance Hunter has posed:
Lance can't help but chime in when Bobbi goes and breaks the broken hearted man's heart even further. "Sorry, mate," he says. "She's like that, can't take her anywhere, honestly," he says trying to lighten the mood, both for the poor guy at the bar and for the both of them.

Harry's remark gets a bit of a laugh from Lance. "Harry's right, and by that I mean the real one," he says with a glance at the big man, along with a 'Sorry Harry," before Lance turns his attention to Bobbi as they switch to talking plainly. "I get that, and I'll be honest, Bobs, I miss you like hell, if you've had any idea of the people I've been working with.." he gives his head a shake. "Anyhow, our problem wasn't not missing having each other around, that's usually what gets things started, we get back to working together, and then before we know it everything's falling apart again. Wonder if it isn't smarter we just get ahead of it this time."

At this point Lance doesn't even take his shot, eyes on Bobbi now, clearly chewing over his own thoughts as he watches her.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
o/^ Babe. I got you babe. I got you babe. o/^

"So you're just going to run away because things might get tough? Wow." She lifts her eyebrows, "Usually you wait until things actually get tough to run away."

o/^ I got you to hold my hand - I got you to understand o/^

She simmers down a touch and says, "It'd be different this time. I don't go on six month long.. er.. 'business trips' anymore."

o/^ I got you to walk with me - I got you to talk with me o/^

"I only ever wanted one thing and that was for you to not leave me," she admits, probably for the first time in all the years they've known each other. Finally, they've both laid their cards on the table.

o/^ I got you to kiss goodnight - I got you to hold me tight o/^

"It's your shot," Bobbi says leaving the choice up to him. She know she can make it without him.. she just doesn't want to have to. They've put their lives on the line for each other so many times, she wonders why this time was so different for him. There was no way she was going to let HYDRA have him and Simmons... or probably kill them for her failure to comply with Whitehall's demands.

o/^ I got you.. I won't let go - I got you to love me so o/^

Lance Hunter has posed:
"It's called growth, Bobs, maybe you-" Hunter begins about him running now rather than waiting to run later, but he stops himself before he says things that will be too hard to take back.

Which is something Hunter looks glad about when Bobbi makes her admission. "And I didn't want to leave, but you me and your job was just too crowded, one of us had to go and it didn't like you or SHIELD were all that likely," he explains, regret in his voice. "But yeah? No more trips eh?" he asks her, so he was actually listening to what was being said for a change.

He nods about the game, leaning forward to take a shot, it's wild, balls scattering, lacking clear direction. He stands, "So, what are you saying then? You want me to sign back up? Watch your back again?" he asks her.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
o/^ I got you babe. I got you babe. o/^

"Ayup," she says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It's a wonder she doesn't have a badge for him already in her back pocket - but even Bobbi isn't that presumptuous, nor would she want him to feel like she was just playing him.

o/^ I got you babe. I got you babe. o/^

"And you want me to take time just for us, no SHIELD?," she asks. It's rare for her to compromise on anything. Her StarkWatch buzzes again.

o/^ I got you babe. I got you babe. o/^

She leans down and gets that determined look on her face like she's about to down every ball. She even sets her jaw slightly. Then, there's a small subtle pause and she bites her lip, hits the ball and it goes straight in to a pocket.

o/^ I got you babe. I got you babe. o/^

"I accept," she says and walks around to the pocket she sunk the white ball in to fetch. She hands it over, cupping his hand with both of hers.

o/^ I got you babe. I got you babe. o/^

Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter tilts his head and looks at Bobbi like she grew a second head. "You sure you're feeling okay?" he asks. "Sounded like you said you'd put me ahead of the job there, so, just making sure that formula didn't mess with your brain, and we brought back the real Bobbi. Leave it to Hunter to protest even when he's getting what he's wanted for just about ever now.

Though when Bobbi pulls the stunt with the ball, he can't help but take it in his hands and smile, "Guess I'd be an idiot to say no to that, even if it was just someone in a Bobbi mask," he says unable to keep the smile from becoming a smirk. "Listen Bobs, I'm game to come back, and I'm game to give us a go, but maybe we should take it slow, yeah? Make sure this isn't the almost dying talking?"

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Bobbi grins as he cracks wise. Can't go two seconds being serious. "Just remember I could kick your ass before the formula," she says with a wry smile. She picks up her whisky and knocks it back, scrunching up her face for just a moment as it goes down.

"I do like playing it dangerous, you are an idiot, don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise," she says and then nods her head slowly. Soberly perhaps, "Take it slow. That's fine. And I'm thinking more fifty fifty, than 'ahead'.."

Bobbi motions to the drinks Harry brought them, "May be we should actually sit down and chat about what we've been up to. That's a thing regular people do right?"

..... the next morning .....



Bobbi stretches out on the motel bed. It's not the worst she's ever slept on. She looks over at Lance beside her and nudges him. There's a crack in the blinds streaming in a shard of light that has her squinting a bit as it's landing right across her face. Two whiskies turned in to a few more.

"I thought we were going to take it slow this time?," she asks with amusement.

Lance Hunter has posed:
"That's a gross exaggeration," Hunter protests with a grin. "You only beat me like ten or eleven times," he says before laughing. "And hey, isn't that why you put up with me? I can make you smile."

Hunter nods about the rest, putting down the cue on the table. "So, they tell me," he says before looking back for Harry. "Another round here, make mine a whisky too though."

o/^Then put your little hand in mine. There ain't no hill or mountain we can't climbo/^

Hunter wakes up, blinking in the sunlight sneaking its way in through the cheap blinds. He sits up rubbing the back of his head as the memories of the previous night catches up with him, he offers a bleary eyed smile, "We made it back to the motel room. That is slow for us."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Bobbi grins, "Fair point." She puts a hand on his shoulder and draws him back down. "I'm on medical leave. There's no rush."