4239/Cranky Old SHIELD Agents

Cranky Old SHIELD Agents
Date of Scene:	29 November 2020
Location:	Quon's Dim Sum
Synopsis:	Dim sum and Chinese whiskey lead to a night of life stories and revelations for a pair of old SHIELD agents enjoying a rare night off.
Cast of Characters:	Melinda May, Peggy Carter

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Melinda May has posed:
There's a restaurant in Chinatown called Quon's. It's been around since World War I. Owned by the same family, all this time, too. Needless to say, it's a well-storied building -- even if most of those stories aren't known to many beyond the family. Its current owner is a woman named Wendy Quon, an old friend of the May family.

The front of the restaurant is what you'd expect -- an authentic dim sum restaurant that caters to anyone who comes through th e door. There's a party room in the back that caters to a more exclusive clientele on occasion, but is usually reserved specifically for, well, parties. Big surprise.

But the place also used to be a speakeasy during prohibition. So, there are other hidden spaces to be found in the place as well. Not, mind, that Melinda May has taken advantage of her knowledge of those places, tonight. Not that she won't in the future. But, tonight, she has a quiet table in the back of the main dining room, near the kitchen and access to a passage she knows about that will provide a quick exit if it's ever needed. Not because she thinks she'll need it tonight... but because she's a SHIELD agent and she simply can't help but keep all her options open. Especially escape options.

She sits, leaned back on a deep red bench, her finger tips on a glass filled with amber liquid, watching the other patrons enjoy their meals and the servers that pass between them with carts laden with fresh dishes.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Having gotten an interesting invitation to a dim sum place she's not had the pleasure of exploring, Peggy certainly isn't going to pass up May's company. Therefore, she's dressed for 'pleasure', not business, in one of her preferred old fashion swing dresses. This one is a winter weighted gray and red plaid with a boat neck and a heavy red belt around her hourglass waist. She's got red wedge heels, cuban seamed stockings, and a grey pea coat overtop. Her short bobbed curls are slightly mussed from the late autumn wind and she's got rosy cheeks, proof she walked (probably from the subway) more than a few blocks.

Dark eyes flicker across the place, not just searching for May, but also studying all their outs. She carries that same paranoia that May does, even if she's unaware of the hidden places this offers. She does finally spy Melinda at the back of the room and gives a comfortable wave to the hostess, listening to hear if they are speaking Mandarin or Cantonese before offering, in their language, "My friend is in the back. Thank you." Her Cantonese isn't as good as her Mandarin, but she's able to communicate in both.

With that, she makes her way over to Melinda and gives a warm smile as she slips into the booth. "This place smells delicious..."

Melinda May has posed:
Melinda actually smiles as Peggy makes her way through the restaurant to where she sits. The staff speak both Mandarin and Cantonese, however. So Peggy will be understood regardless. "I see you found the place," the Asian woman says to the English woman. "Good." It's not actually easy to find, despite how busy it is. It sits off the main streets, making it a hot spot for locals and those 'in the know'.

"I took the liberty of ordering us a bottle of Baijiu," a clear, colourless liquor traditional in China, "but I haven't poured it, yet." That's probably not a surprise, since it's usually one of those things that has a certain amount of etiquette associated with it.

"The owner, here, is a friend of mine. I keep this place off the books as much as I can." She gives Peggy a meaningful look. "You understand."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The Baijiu is a nice surprise, Peggy looking flattered and a little touched as she hears, "I haven't had Baijiu in years, goodness. Thank you..." But it's the comment about the owner being a friend that really sends things home. Peggy realizes she's being invited into a very rare, honored part of May's life. Not something for SHIELD at all, but for friends. Practically for family.

"I was never here. And it won't touch the books. I promise." There is a weight behind Peggy's eyes as she says that, a gratitude and warmth that says the British woman is touched beyond what words could probably properly explain. She doesn't have many friends and this means a lot. "I also trust you for what to order... I eat practically everything and came famished. Unless you're tired of being in the driver's seat, even for dinner." Peggy's smile grows a bit wry as she says that.

Melinda May has posed:
May barks a short laugh. "The only thing you might want to stay away from, if you're not used to them, is the chicken feet. Frankly, they never have enough meat on them, anyway." She pours two small glasses -- more like shot glasses -- of the strong sorghum liquor. "This packs a punch," she warns her companion. "Don't feel like we have to finish the bottle. Wendy will understand." Then, she lifts her small glass. "Cheers," she says. "At least, we got *something* out of it." She means the mission on the boat, of course. Maybe they didn't get much, but they're alive. And that means they have another chance, later.

She swallows the shot and places the glass back down on the table, but doesn't pour another cup. The stuff really does have a kick to it. It could probably be used by street performers to create fire breath on the fumes.

Once that little ritual is finished, however, she gestures for one of the cart pushers to come over, so she can start selecting some dishes for them. "Would you like something else to drink?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peg follows the lead on the ritual with the booze, shooting back the first glass with only a slight wrinkle to her nose as the pleasant, but burning, heat cuts down her throat and warms her chest for a moment. She gives a little grunt of approval and lets her smile linger into a grin, "Cheers. And if we finish it, no matter. I took the subway. We'll manage home." Peggy winks to the other woman.

The thought of the mission makes her sigh, "I wasn't surprised he didn't have too much. He was the top of that cell. We can, at least, clean the rest of it out. We got one cell down. That's progress... *Good* progress." Peggy affirms, her dark eyes tilting up, searching Melinda's so the other agent can see how serious Peg is about it. Taking down a full HYDRA cell is a big deal, even if it's only a single head. Even if she's still sporting cuts, bruises, and some injury from it. It was worth it.

"Tea to drink... and as long as we get shu mai, I'll be happy." Peggy motions for the shrimp dumplings the moment she sees them on the cart.

Melinda May has posed:
Even May is still bruised from that fight. She took more than a few good hits, herself. She picks a few dishes, different sorts of dumplings -- including the shrimp, some rice and vegetables prepared in different ways, even some chicken, pork, and beef. There's not a lot in any given bamboo pot, and she's careful not to overload the table, but there's enough to start. She also orders some tea for them to share. A traditional green tea that she has always found enjoyable.

"Yes," she agrees, meeting her friend's eyes as Peggy asserts their accomplishment. "I can't argue that. It's just annoying how fast they pop up again later." That's always been the problem with Hydra, though. So, it won't depress her appetite, at least.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"It is." Peggy's eyes drop for a moment, giving her a second to get control over her temper and her shame about how quickly they come back. Especially when it was supposed to be her job for all those years. This was supposed to be over so long ago. Peg sighs, reaching to steal a few dumplings on her plate as she carefully rebuilds her business like walls. "We shouldn't be dealing with it at all. But since they are still here, we'll...keep cutting away. And there were a few leads, if they haven't run the moment we cleared his dock's operation out." Chances are they're all dead leads now.

"How are you feeling? That was a... rough fight. If I'd brought *anyone* else, chances are someone would be dead or in hospital, at least." Probably her, but she doesn't say that. Eyes flicker back up, looking over Melinda with just a bit of concern, since they haven't had time to touch base since the interrogation.

Melinda May has posed:
"I'm fine," Melinda replies. "A little sore, but it means I'm alive." A sharp smile touches her lips. "Besides, I've been in worse fights." Bahrain, for one. But she still shies away from any talk of that fight. Regardless, her skill at hitting things is why she's the type of specialist she is. A warrior. A protector. A shield. She will never be a director. And she thanks god for that everytime a suggestion of it comes up. She prefers her job as it is.

She takes chopsticks and selects a dumpling, adding sauce to it in the small bowl in front of her. "They'll have run," she says now. "That's what they do. We may not have to start from scratch, but I'll think we're going to find it pretty quiet now."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A slight nod comes from Peggy, "Probably. I did a drive by of one of the buildings that night we questioned him and the morning after. Completely dead. I suspect it's all gone but... A girl can have hope." A bittersweet smile cuts across her red matte mouth. She also didn't tell anyone she was going to do that, part of her still used to operating solo nowadays.

"...So, did you invite me out here to talk about work, or did you actually want to relax a bit? Or is this HOW we relax? Something else on your mind?" Peggy asks with a gently arched brow, stopping on her food for a moment to completely take in the woman's response to that.

Melinda May has posed:
May arches a brow silently at the revelation of Peggy's driveby. Not that she wouldn't have done it herself. Not the point. But it does keep her from commenting on it. Then again, she rarely needs to. She's heard rumours the probies have a whole visual dictionary dedicated to her brow twitches.

Finally, she shakes her head and gives a wry smile. "No, I didn't," she admits. Invite her out to talk about work, that is. "Though, I suspect you're right about how we relax. I've met nuns more relaxed than either of us." There's an undercurrent of humour in her words. It's pretty subtle.

She gives a mild shrug. "Honestly? I don't get out much. I doubt you do, either. I thought this would be a change of pace."

Peggy Carter has posed:
That arched brow gets a smirk from Peggy, levelling her gaze flatly to the other woman. She knows she's getting a look, no verbal commentary needed. "I was just looking. If I saw any activity, I've had called you or Barnes before going in. Probably both of you. Just like I did for that night at the docks. I'm... an independent worker, but not stupid." Peggy reassures the woman.

Her fingertips then reach up to pour them both another shot of that strong, warming liquor. She's not wary of it now that they are starting to get food int heir stomachs. Her smile turns a little wry at the nun comment, bittersweetness crossing her dark eyes. She can't disagree with May's assertations. "...you're not... Wrong. Guess it's been a rather long time since I had someone to go out with. Other than Howlett, but...he'll disappear months at a time. It's not the same as having someone... a friend... in the same city. In your life."

Melinda May has posed:
"It's not," May agrees. "Besides. This is one of my favourite places in the city. I don't know anyone else who'd truly appreciate it." She gestures to a pannel of wall between their table and the kitchen. "Look at the edge wear and floorboards," she suggest. Decades of use that is doctored very well to be very, very easy to miss. "This place used to have a speakeasy, back in the day. Not all that different from Swordfish. It's just got a more exclusive membership."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The motion at that door gains a slightly deeper narrow of Peggy's eyes, as she searches for the very subtle seams that are now somewhat clear to her as the way back has been pointed out. That makes her grin a bit wider, approval clear on her face, "Damn. I'd love to see the backroom here on *good* circumstances, before we're using that door to duck away from someone unwisely on our tails." Peggy knows their lives. Knows the multiple reasons that Melinda might like a place such as this. The inevitablity isn't lost on her that they will probably have to make a fast exit some night.

"Does the family originally speak Cantonese or Mandarin? I'm guessing Cantonese, since they speak both and the style of the dim sum. I'm not... fluent in it. Six tones instead of four always... Well. I'm still working on it." Peggy will admit. 100 years old and still being willing to work on it? That says something for her.

"And if you don't take anyone else here? Well, damn well enjoy it. We'll finish this bottle, stumble out, and pretend we don't have half the world on our shoulders for a few hours, hmm? Unless you need to go back and be responsible for some headache of a mission I haven't heard about." The implication there is that they're dragging Melinda back on her day off, probably because she's been too nice to say no.

Melinda May has posed:
"That can be arranged," May promises. But she nods. "Cantonese. This place opened in 1918 as a 'cafe'." Which, if she knows her prohibition history, means a place that served both tea and under-the-table liquor disguised as tea. "It's been a dozen different things since then, but always a restaurant of some sort. I think my parents met here, actually."

And May doesn't say 'yes' to coming in on her day off unless the mission is world threatening. Which, you know, it almost *always* is. Such is the life of a Level 8.

"It's actually been fairly quiet. Bobbi's still chasing down leads in that diplomatic case; I've been assiting as I can. And Johnson's got a challenge ahead of her connected to her parents. But..." She pauses. "Mm. I don't think I want to jinx myself by saying more." Or, more accurately, saying that her own caseload has been... actually kind of quiet.

She picks up the glass Peggy poured for her and downs it with a bit of a smile. For luck. "I come here when I don't *want* the office to call me in. Sometimes it actually works."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The unspoken 'quiet' is not something Peggy misses. All her life of profiling and even someone like Melinda, especially now that they've been getting closer, is someone she can read those little details. A wry smile cracks across her mouth and she raises her little glass in a toast, shooting back the next round of Baijiu comfortably. The second one goes down easier than the first.

"...So. Tell me about Melinda May. As much as your willing, at least. I could read a file but...it doesn't tell me the same as hearing it. I think this is the first time I've ever heard about your parents, much less how you ended up in SHIELD..." Of course, Peggy saw her original recruit file. But, as she said, it's not the same as hearing the actual motivations and feelings straight from someone's lips.

Melinda May has posed:
A soft grunt sounds in the back of May's throat. "There's not much to tell, really. I mean..." She thinks about it, enjoying another dumpling before she pours more of the Baijiu. "I used to be a figure skater," she says after a moment. "Not too many people know that. But then I discovered that martial arts had mats to fall on, instead of ice. So, making the switch was pretty easy." No brainer, really.

She eyes Peggy and selects another dumpling. "Your turn," she says, offering a challenging smile. "One for one." Because that's fair. And it's not like May knows all that much about Peggy, really. Again... files only say so much.

Peggy Carter has posed:
A single brow climbs up her forehead as the other woman turns her own questions on her, but her smile is amused, not offended. Peggy should have expected it, really. She slides her glass out, motioning for another to be poured. "We are bloody well drinking if we're doing this." Peggy admits gruffly, though there is absolutely amusement behind her voice. The figure skating thing gets a bit of a surprised look, a snerk of a laugh to the falling comment, "...I suppose there are mats, until you get into SHIELD and they're just trying to shoot you dead."

Peggy takes another bite out of a sesame ball she's chosen herself. That's going to be a few bites in, the thing almost big as her fist, but sweetly savory and still so warm it's almost steaming. "Mm... Alright. I turned down the SOE the first time they asked me to join. I was... engaged, and was a code breaker at Bletchley, and...thought I was doing my piece. I didn't need to charge of to get killed on the front lines. I was better at code than anyone in that office and spoke three languages already... then my brother died and...it felt like maybe they did need another body on the front lines. So, I got back in touch with the SOE and...off I went."

Melinda May has posed:
"Hey," Melinda says, with a smug smile. "I was going to be the Asian Dorothy Hamill. My father has a shelf full of awards to prove it." A beat. "And there's a reason I only use guns when I have to. It's harder for them to shoot you when you're slamming their faces into the concrete." Brutal, but true.

She adds some sauce to a bit of rice and vegetables, scooping even the sticky grains out in clumps with an expert's precision. "My grandmother did some espionage work during World War Two," she admits after a moment's thought. "In China, against the Japanese. My mother's with the CIA, now." She cants her head. "I guess it runs in our family."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I suspect your father would have preferred you to stay with ice skating. I...can't imagine my children going into this work. I don't think I'd wish it on my worst enemy, much less my own flesh and blood. But..." A warmer smile crosses her lips in May's direction, "I will be relieved that you didn't follow his wishes, because there's not many other agents, none I've worked with now, who could have pulled off what you did on that ship. So, I'll be thankful you found your own way..."

Peg is slowing down a bit on the food. Still eating, savoring each bite, but the conversation is interesting and she's getting full enough she has to pick and choose which is worth spending the last bites of her appetite upon. "And once you got in SHIELD...how'd that all... Go? How were things after I left?"

Melinda May has posed:
May swallows that cup of Baijiu she poured. "Coulson and I were partnered up," she says after a moment. She snirks. "Our first mission together, he left me treading water in the bay in Sausalito for five hours because no one thought we needed an exfil." Yeah, that impressed her. "We spent the next several years chasing down 0-8-4's and index candidates. Which means I spent the next several years pulling his ass out of the fire." That's all in the file, really. But not her reaction to it. At once amused and irritated.

"What was the craziest mission you faced?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
As Melinda swallows, so does Peggy. The fact that she's willing to get drunk in May's presense, and at this point they are definitely getting drunk, says a lot about just how much she trusts the woman. Empty glass is returned to the table and her curious smile lingers, listening to the woman's words. Her cheeks are starting to flush beneath the faint rogue she normally wears, a deeper, more rose than peach color.

"...And you didn't murder him yet? You really are a saint, aren't you?" Peggy asks with a deeper smirk, her respect for the woman archingly clear, though she can't hide some of the amusement at that story. The question directed at her gets a little groan. "...Hell. There... were a lot. Then it feels like there was nothing. Once you become Director, you stop getting the fun ones." She smirks, contemplating over the last bite of sesame ball.

"Probably the first time we encountered zero matter. Women were being frozen in lakes in the middle of the Los Angeles summer... a famous movie star was involved. We shoved a scientist, and a fairly good friend, partially out of this dimension. You'd swear I was leading a life out of a pulp novel. But, that was still the SSR days, when I wasn't tied to a desk..."

Melinda May has posed:
Melinda scoffs obviously at that. "Saint? Pfft. Hardly. I got danger pay out of it, don't you kid yourself." Actually, she was sweet on the guy for a while. But that was before Andrew.

"Zero matter?" Her brows rise slighty. "That sounds like it's a story." Of the 'no shit, there I was...' variety.

"Look on the brightside," she says, her own face starting to show a bit of flush from the drink. "You get to have more fun now?" By not being Director. Then again, May doesn't want a directorship. "Who was the movie star?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
"It's the first instance of what I believe is now classified as Dark Force? From what I garnered from the files... messy stuff. All consuming, highly volatile. Will pop you out of this dimesion without a thought if you use it wrong. Also sort of...takes over your body. There's a whole big file on the stuff." Peggy shakes her head, not creeped out by it, but she talks of it in the way of a woman who has encountered something like mustard gas. She knows how to control it, but still doesn't want to have to deal with it if she doesn't want to. "Whitney Frost was the actress. Brilliant woman, physicist as well... and an utter bitch." Peg smirks. Definitely a bit drunk.

As she finishes her final bites, she dares to reach up and pour the last of that Baijiu, both of them two more cups of the stuff. See, they could finish the bottle? SHe doesn't immediately drink this round, but she's clearly not going to shy away from it either. "...so...Why'd you try to retire?" She asks, a bit softer this time. SHe knows she's treading on dangerous territory.

Melinda May has posed:
May stiffens a little at the question about her retirement. She peers at the woman for a moment, and then asks, "Has anyone told you the story of the Cavalry?" She grimaces and reaches for that glass of baijiu. "I understand it gets bigger with each new class at the academy."

She picks up that glass and slams it back in the way only people who have been through a literal hell and never quite emerged from will do. There are so few that know the real story. The true story. Most only hear the legend. And, surprising herself, May suddenly realizes she doesn't want Peggy to hear the legend.

"Phil and I were sent to extend the Welcome Wagon to a woman with superhuman strength and, we thought, the ability to psychically influence others. We sent in a retrieval team. To a man they ended up under psychic control. Them and a dozen Bahrainian gangster. We didn't have any back up. There an air strike incoming... and they were holding a child hostage. At least... that's what we thought."

She looks at the empty bottle and then to the half filled glass with its amber liquid -- the one she started the evening with. "It turned out the girl was the psychic. I tried everything I could think of but she..." She reaches out for that glass and takes a swallow. "There was only one way to stop her. I made the call." She looks away. "Nothing was really ever right, after that. Everyone thought I was a hero but..." She shakes her head. "I killed a child. My husband and I were talking about having kids at the time... Needless to say, that never happened. We got divorced. I retired. It seemed... the best choice for everyone."

She clears her throat and tries to push the meories away. "Then, Loki decided to lead an alien army against New York and... well, here I am." Her smile is gone, the dour, serious woman that scares the bejeezus out of the probies in its place.

Peggy Carter has posed:
A slight smirk comes in response to the story about the calvary. "I was on ice when it happened and... people don't really talk to the Director Emeritus. It's like I'm still some frightening ivory tower they can't interact with, but without the title or pay grade." Peggy isn't exactly bitter, but she's also clearly not too happy with the way she's generally treated. "So...no. I haven't heard. Tell me."

And then the story is there. Laid out on the table in all it's harsh, awful earnesty. Peg's eyes slightly pinch, not letting pity invade her eyes, but a hard sort of sympathy. Understanding. She's made awful calls before. Maybe not that awful, but she does understand. One hand come up, stretching across the table. Not directly touching May -- not yet, at least, but her fingertips press flat not even an inch from where her hand rests with those chopsticks. It's the offer of a touch. An inching of nearness. "...The's... Fucking awful. I'm so sorry...not in the responsible way, but in the... no agent should fucking have to make those choices, but they do. You did. And... it's still awful."

Melinda May has posed:
May can't really help it. Her hand pulls back at the offer of the touch. She's not so drunk (ri-ight) that she's ready to be *that* vulnerable. She shakes her head, fingers curling into a fist, chopsticks laid on her bowl. Her fist moves to her lap. "It is what it is. It was a long time ago. But that's what actually happened. So, you know, when you hear the legend... It's bullshit. And I hate that name. The Cavalry. I saved thos agents. And that needed to happen. But I went in to save a child. And that didn't... happen." Her words *sound* matter of fact. Almost emotionless. But they're not. They're very much not.

"Both she and her mother died that day. I shot them." By her hands. By a bullet. That's the real reason she hates using firearms. "There was no other choice, but... Yeah. It is what it is."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peggy never directly touched the woman, but her fingertips were close. A little too close, it seems. She doesn't pull away like she would if she were offended. She keeps the hand there just in case May changes her mind, but she also doesn't dare reach any closer. She just gives a quiet, understanding nod. "... We have to make... a lot of horrid choices in this line of work. I'm just sorry they drug you back in. Everyone deserves their own life... Own boundaries. If you ever decide you really want out again? Just tell me. I'll make certain it happens. No questions. No pulling back in. Sure, we need you...but you need you too."

Melinda May has posed:
May flips a hand dismissively, forcing herself away from the darkness that threatens to swallow her up. "It was ten years ago, now. Twelve. I like working, these days." She snirks. "Most of the time. I wouldn't know what to do with myself, sitting around all day, anyway."

She regards Peggy a moment. "Could you retire now? With everything going on?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
The older woman doesn't push, giving a slight nod to the comment about sitting around all day. Peggy seems to understand that all too well. The question of retiring gains a slightly lifted brow. She picks up her last glass of Biajiu, considering it quietly. "With everything going on... part of me is tempted to do it. Just get out, dedicate myself full time to tracking down all the threads SHIELD missed. But I realize I can do it better still getting information from the inside. SO...no. I suppose not." She raises her glass one last time. "To not retiring."

Melinda May has posed:
May picks up that amber filled glass, grateful that Peggy is wise enough to know when to back off, and echoes the toast. "To not retiring," she echoes. They can sleep when they're dead.

But, the baijiu is gone, the meal is almost gone, too, and the rest of the evening will probably require a taxi ride home at the end, rather than the bus. Safer that way.

But at least they can both say they were out with a friend for once. It seems miracles really do happen...

Even to cranky old SHIELD agents.