46/It's Nice to Be Home

It's Nice to Be Home
Date of Scene:	20 February 2020
Location:	Avengers Mansion - Kitchen
Synopsis:	Vodka goes well in coffee and conversation both. Steve and Thor reunite and discuss the importance of the past in the present.
Cast of Characters:	Thor, Steve Rogers

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Thor has posed:
    "And you claim this is made from potatoes?" Thor's voice cannot hide his incredulity as he addresses the air, though even though he has been assured many times that JARVIS does no have a physical body that does not stop him on an instinctive level from looking up and around, as if trying to locate the speaker. All while holding a clear bottle with a bright label.
    << Amongst other things, Master Thor. Vodka is a neutral spirit that is usually not aged and can be made from grains, potatoes, sugars, and fruits that are fermented to produce alcohol. It can also have ingredients added to affect the flavor. >>
    There's a tilt of Thor's head back the other way as he sets the bottle on the counter top, looking thoughtful as he stands there in his jeans and sneakers, his hoodie is crumpled on the side table, its laces cast haphazardly across the surface. Strong arms cross his broad chest as he ponders again this time audibly with a small, 'hm.'
    "I .do. like potatos." He offers, almost sotto voccee. Though as to that comment JARVIS remains mum.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Prefer 'em as hashbrowns myself, but maybe it's my stomach speaking."

Mellow and amused, the voice that floats into the kitchen space before the arrival of its owner. By the look of things, Steve rode his motorcycle to the mansion despite the cold weather; his cheeks still carry the pink of chilled air rushing past him. Hands rubbed together further this idea and by all appearances, Steve's headed right for the coffee machine for a hot drink.

But not before walking over sporting a big grin and one half of a warrior's handshake-greeting for Thor, sure to grip the Asgardian's forearm firmly. "Got a notification you were in town. 's'good to see you, Thor. You on vacation?"

Thor has posed:
    For the moment the bottle is forgotten, Thor turning around and looking up, his countenance brightening into a lop-sided smile that's twisted with wry humor at the mention of vacation. Pushing off the counter he closes the distance and there is that sharp clasp of forearms as the Asgardian declares, "Good captain!" Some ancient military warrior vibe resonating strongly from the tone and delivery of those two simple words.
    Though Steve also is likely aware that the greeting rarely stops at a handshake.
    For the next moment he is brought in for the rough masculine embrace between soldiers and comrades. Chest to chest with a heavy /thump thump thump/ on the back in greeting and then withdrawing to arm's length, hands still clasped to look each other over. "You've put on weight." He says with that same wryness clear in those blue eyes.
    Then he turns and grabs up the bottle, "Not vacation no, I am back for a good amount of time. Not too long, perhaps twenty or thirty years." Then he points at Cap with one hand even as plinks the stopper of the bottle free with the other. "JARVIS! How does one serve vodka?"
    << Typically in a glass, sir. Though even that is optional I am told. >>
    "Two glasses?" He asks of Cap even as he turns to rummage about in a cabinet.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Nothing like a couple of well-meaning whumps to the shoulderblades to wake you up. Steve tries to return them with the same amount of physical enthusiasm, but surely ends up shy as a whole. He's only metahuman, after all.

"Sure, two glasses. 's'after five o' clock. I'll put in my coffee," says Steve, still smiling . "'nd I have been lifting more." He knows Thor's teasing him; the serum doesn't allow for anything more than the bare necessity of fat on the super-soldier's frame.

On the coffee machine goes with a thrify hum of power and some quiet clinks. Little beeps signal Steve inputting his preference, which is simple in the end: black coffee, no muss, no fuss, and allowance for any additive he wishes after it's been pulled into the mug he slips beneath the spigot.

"How's Asgard doing? I know folks have probably asked you already, but humor a man. Nobody's texted me with an update yet," explains Steve as he leans against the counter by the coffee maker now, arms lightly crossed in his shearling-lined leather jacket, comfortable as a whole.

Thor has posed:
    Two glasses are gained and set on the counter with a clink, then the vodka is poured into each with a casual tilt of Thor's hand. A few seconds over one, a few seconds over the other, liquid sloshing against the rip. Then he extends one toward Cap for him to add to his coffee or not, letting him choose the amount as he likes and to perhaps have the purity of vodka to taste.
    "Asgard prospers, Steven." He turns and once they both have their glasses he'll gesture for a small toast, clinking once given the chance should it be presented. He takes up a place leaning against the counter, one arm across his chest as he declares, "There has been a revitalization in some ways with the return of Midgard to the souls and minds of Asgard's people. I am often asked of tales to share, and to explain the many wonders I have witnessed. I know there is no small number of Asgardians who would visit here if their duties and the All-Father allowed."
    That said he tilts the glass and sniffs it, brow furrowing in concentration. He lifts his eyes heavenward though unlikely in search of further divinity and more to perhaps glare admonishingly at JARVIS. If he had a body. Then there's a sip.
    "JARVIS."
    << Yes, sir. >>
    "This does not taste of potatoes."
    << No, sir. >>
    "In fact it does not taste of anything."
    << No, sir. >>
    "Then why do people drink it?"
    << Often due to long winters, sir. >>
    Then Thor's features do seem to color slightly, a little rush of blood as he blinks. "Hm, perhaps I see it."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve watches the pour of vodka and its consideration with one of his nearly-hidden smiles, not mocking in the least. There's always an element of fun to see off-worlders learn of the little pleasures of Midgard. Thor gets his toast and quiet clink of glass to glass before the Captain's vodka goes into his coffee as previously intended. He nods to hear of the update; sipping at the coffee has him making a judgmental little frown down at the drink, but all it requires is a dollop of heavy cream according to what comes of his following scrounging within the giant steel fridge tucked to the wall.

"If you want to talk vodka, see if you can't chat with either Nat or Barnes," the man suggests to Thor with an amused little glance after pouring himself enough cream to lighten the coffee. "Long winters would be one reason. Bet they can give more." He returns the cream to the fridge and then sips at his coffee again: mmm, better. "'m glad to hear your home is faring well. Been quiet here for a bit, but...you know how it goes. Somebody out there's always looking to stir the pot."

Thor has posed:
    Another sip, and he ponders the curious glass a touch longer, then Thor's attention returns to the Captain as he nods along with what the other man is saying, especially the last part on pot and the stirring thereof. "Indeed, I am pleased in main to get away having set most things I could to rights."
    He turns his head and casts his gaze distantly as he recalls some of the events, "I checked with those whom I trust in the nine realms, to make certain there were no rumblings of ill findings. I spent some time in my father's company, and he seems well though I fear his sleep beckons soon." One and rubs at the side of his cheek thoughtfully then he sips again. This time he gestures with the glass, "I also made certain that Loki's prison was secure. We shared some words, poisoned and edged though they were on his part."
    A pause there as Thor likely gives too much thought to the pain some of them inflicted. Then he shakes his head as if to clear it.
    "But now I am here." He quickly changes the topic, smile brightening as if to get past that brief shift of mood. "And we are to see a play perhaps?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
True-blues drop in respectful sympathy for Thor's plight. Steve nods; he knows well enough of how difficult Loki can be, if even to simply interact with him and not when the Trickster is up to his ears in trouble. His next glance up is a thoughtful squint, at least until the shift in interest.

Oh yes, that play. Steve can't help the snort of a laugh and shake of his head. On a sigh, he replies, "Heard about that affair. We can see about tickets if you're interested." The ho-hum tilt of the Captain's head transparently conveys his own inclination: not overly enthused to see it. "I know Janet's had a few opinions about the costuming. There's apparently an entire number where you walk around in board shorts and sandals. She wasn't a fan of the sandals. No opinions on your lines, from what I can tell. And..."

Oh, such a //long-suffering sigh// there.

"...they stuck me in tights again, which is to be expected. Can't escape those boots either." The red ones that went to the knee -- apparently, the costumer wanted authenticity with Steve's appearance.

Thor has posed:
    "I do wonder why those images perpetuate." Thor says thoughtfully, likely meaning the shorts and sandals and tights of the world. His eyebrows then lift slightly as if he had thought of the answer, then his head tilts to the side as he probably throws that answer away mentally. In any case he looks back over toward Cap and adds companionably. "Well I had been thinking that most of the time when we are seen together it is due to some dire situation or some horrid ill that preys upon mankind."
    Another drink of the vodka and it doesn't seem to be bothering Thor at all really, though his cheeks are a mite bit flushed. "Would be good for us to be with each other and without some monstrous creature or villain menacing us for once. Though..." Thor's smile slips towards the amused, "I do not mind those times in truth."
    He turns around and looks out across the yard that only an hour and some ago he had arrived on, the fresh sod put into place by William the grounds-keeper still rather clearly defining the runic blaze that was brought forth with the Thunderer's arrival. "I had thought to travel some while I was here. Find the families of old friends if I can. Though I am not sure where I should start."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"'s'true. Folks tend to remember the trouble rather than the gatherings or the fundraisers when we're all together." Having agreed in his mildly sardonic manner, apparently a bit sore that this public viewpoint continues to live on, Steve simply shrugs and sips his coffee. A deep swig of it has his own cheeks pinking by now, their color returning to the hue once brought forth by the cold winter air outside. Thor's quiet enthusiasm over a good bout still makes his fellow Avenger smile to himself in turn.

Breaking into movement off his lean against the counter, the Captain walks over to stand by the Asgardian near to the window. Now the falling light showcases the steam rising from his coffee mug held up near to his chest. He too sees the sod. Ah-hah: that's what the text was about. A glance at Thor is accompanied by the suggestion of, "Maybe try hunting around the Internet? Phonebooks used to be a thing, but now they're doorstops or magic tricks. Something about pulling them in half. Could put out feelers over at the Triskelion if you're raring to find someone in particular, but bear in mind, 'm not looking to invade anyone's privacy. Also can't be using intelligence for house calls, in theory. Anyone in particular regardless? Might recognize the name."

Thor has posed:
    "Ylsa Onnsdottir, and Olaf the Grim are the only names I know them by." Thor says with that same half-smile though it is twisted up with a touch of the sardonic as he knows how unlikely it would be to find them. He elaborates, "Though I do not think this internet will be of use to find them, for I met them here in my youth." Which is to say, some time ago.
    "Yet I am curious how their families may have fared, what has passed for them."
    He crinkles his nose a little as he motions outward vaguely with one hand, "The times speaking to those in Asgard of my adventures has sparked the memory of the first time I did so. And it has set my thoughts down the path some might find melancholy though not I." No, not he.
    "It reminded me of the first war that had passed for me, and the people I met then. A fool's errand to rekindle some connection. Yet the impulse is there."
    He turns away from the window, taking another drink of vodka.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Mmm." A quiet sound of agreement as to the Internet's lack of use; Thor's youth and exploits might linger as hazy spoken legend here on Midgard as it stands, further mottled by story-teller enthusiasm if searched upon the Internet. Steve continues looking out across the now 'pristine' winter lawn. Staidly, the man remains there even as his cohort turns away. Memories flicker before the Captain's eyes and temporarily wipe out the present with their intensity.

"Not a fool's errand," he says quietly, chin temporarily dropped. When he looks up past his own reflection again, there's a weary light within his eyes. "Past might be in the past, but it's no less important than the now, 'specially if it means finding lost friendships...or making new ones." He flicks his brows, not smiling in totality. A glance over his shoulder at Thor follows another deep sip of his laced coffee. "Maybe speak to the Smithsonian if you're wanting to trace family bloodlines. They'll have connections overseas to other museums or census papers dating back farther in Europe."

Thor has posed:
    "That may be the wisest course of action," Thor nods with agreement, eyes distanced with thoughtful reflection. But then he overcomes that with a small smirk, "But it is the height of affected vainglory is it not to ask of others to spend their time tracking down your past. On a whim."
    His lip twists up as he moves back over to the bottle to tilt it on its side, letting the liquor gurgle into the glass as he pours himself a refill, then offers Cap some more should he so wish, perhaps not realizing he still has some in his glass already unpoured into his coffee. Most likely just making the offer on reflex. "Now. If they were my subjects, I would feel no qualms ordering them about." Thor's smile grows, wry as if having made a small joke to himself.
    Then it's to the air he speaks, "JARVIS! You enjoy my thanks for the suggestion of this beverage."
    << I cannot tell you how that brightens my day, sir. >> Jarvis offers with that pitch tone perfect inflection that does not allow one to be sure if he is being serious or sarcastic or not.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"'m good, thanks," says Steve as to another shot of vodka in his coffee, his forestalling free hand lifted and now dropped back to hang by a thumb off his jean pocket. He finishes the rest of his coffee and licks his lips, considering the espresso machine now across the kitchen.

JARVIS's response has him smirking to himself. Every now and then, Tony's influence in the AI's creation shines through like sun during a cloud-break. "Dunno if it's vainglory if your interest is in finding lost connections rather than indulging some selfish whim," opines the Captain as he walks over to place his empty mug in the depths of the sink. "Been an upsurge of interest in historical family connections these last few years here on Midgard, least from what I can tell. I had nothing to do with it. Something about the Internet 'nd being able to access public records. Nobody'd be thumbing their nose at you if you went 'nd asked politely," he notes, giving Thor a friendly little smile. "Some folks get paid to track down lost relatives around here."

Thor has posed:
    "They're not relatives, old friends." But something there has Thor blinking for a moment and pondering, but then he shakes his head quickly as if he couldn't fully realize whatever thought had occurred. "In any case, I shall go to this Smithsonian and make the request. Good idea, Steven." With that he takes another nice long drink of the vodka then sets the bottle down. Still open, and just leaves it on the counter as he walks to the exit of the kitchen.
    "I am off then, be well Captain!"
    And with that there's a faint /whom/ from the distance as Mjolnir takes flight from upstairs. Then the front door opening, closing. And perhaps, just perhaps, there's a small sigh from a computer intelligence somewhere in the world.