4650/Another day at the Avengers Mansion

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Another day at the Avengers Mansion
Date of Scene: 08 January 2021
Location: Avengers Mansion - First Floor
Synopsis: Chatting at the mansion, catching up with new friends.
Cast of Characters: Hyperion, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton

Hyperion has posed:
    Another day, another dollar. Mark Milton has finally managed to find some part time work. He's a cartoonist, so it's not like there is a lot of demand for that. But he's been doing caricatures of political figures as a freelancer for the Daily Bugle. I mean it's not enough to live on here in New York City. But it lets him feel like he is contributing. It's not like he needs -food- per se', but he is trying to save up enough to move out of the gorgeous mansion that the Avengers have been gracious enough to let him live in for now.
    Though, he gets the feeling that he is being watched more closely of late. But today finds him in the Living Area, using the computer terminal there to scan and submit some of his artwork for potential other job offers... dressed in simple blue jeans and a lumberjack style plaid button down shirt over a white teeshirt. Totally normal looking if one weren't looking at the physique... or energy readings.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
It takes a little getting used to, perhaps, the fact the door opens and closes seemingly by itself, or rather, because of a somewhat 'distracted' JARVIS. He's not been his usual chatty self, and as a result, things are getting done, certainly, but at their most basic. That is, the things that one could ask the AI to do, he's politely either refusing or not answering the request at all, thus forcing a hand in making the residents do things *gasp* for themselves.

At least, however, he has the courtesy to open the door for Wanda as she's got her arms filled with paper bags; a visit to the market complete. As she steps into the foyer, the door closes behind her, and she offers a quiet, accented, "Thank you, JARVIS," to the courtesy. It never hurts to thank the technological wonder that is JARVIS.

As she begins to make her way, she catches the form and figure of Mark in the study, and pokes her head in, her red hair dropping in front of her. She's dressed casually; jeans, knee-high boots with a sweater and long, red leather jacket. "I will be in to bother you in moment. Just back from market. If you are here tonight, you may have to suffer with cooking."

Hyperion has posed:
    Glancing over his shoulder, Mark smiles. "Hello there again Wanda." he says in his resonant voice. But he shrugs, "I am sure that any cooking you perform will be better than my ability to burn water and overcook cold cereal." he admits.
    Given the fact that he doesn't really eat because he needs sustenance. He only eats to enjoy the flavor now and then. The background energy of the universe keeps him sustained. He reaches with a hand to click on one final link on the computer screen and then nods before standing up from the chair. "I hope that I am not in anyone's way. I am trying to find a way to earn a place of my own. It is difficult to start entirely over from scratch. Back home I had a whole history of employment. Here... it is hard to find full time employment when I literally did not exist in this universe until a few months ago."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda has her arms filled with the grocery bags; she really could use her magic, but for the day to day things, it's much easier NOT to call attention to the fact that she is, well, who she is, and so telekinesis is off the table, as it were. Now, if she had to defend herself, or defend another, all bets would be off, and those bags would hover, waiting for her return and her attention!

"You are not," she says with a certain air of finality; she won't be misunderstood there. "You are quite welcome to remain. We are all guests here, thanks to Stark. This was his home."

Wandering into the kitchen, she calls back, "One moment," and the quick unbagging of the market items happens; the crinkle of the paper, the setting of produce onto the main island in the kitchen is done before the sound of running water can be heard. The witch returns, a towel in hand as she dries them, a hint of a smile playing on her face. "It is hard to find work, yes. But, I think I did see something of you in paper?" While she may not read a lot of the news, the cartoons, political and otherwise, gets her notice. "It is good start."

As she approaches the sitting room again, there's a second where she pauses in her step and looks as if she's suddenly staring into the middle distance, her expression falling, her brows creasing. The towel in hand is grasped a little tighter, and then, as quickly as it came, the 'fugue' lifts, leaving Wanda a little fuzzy. "I.. I am sorry. There is something here that.." and she shakes her head as if to dislodge some spider webs. Quickly, she grabs on to something in the 'here and now', looking towards the spot where Mark had been seated just moments before.

"Something new?"

Clint Barton has posed:
Yawning and walking down from his room, Clint is wearing a black shirt with some sweatpants. Why the hell does everybody keep making so much -noise-? His steps are easily heard by Hyperion, though he may yet take Wanda by surprise. Clint is rubbing at one of his eyes as he steps down, his attention locked on Wanda for a second. "Mornin' Gorgeous." he compliments her as he approaches, intending to greet her with a kiss to her cheek.

Then his eyes are on Hyperion. "If I knew we had company....I still probably wouldn't have dressed nicer. How's it going?" he cracks his neck a certain way. "You could always be a truck driver. Good a start as any." he offers him. He looks back at Wanda, tilting his head. "You went and got some groceries? I coulda gone with you to help with that...' but he seems very grateful that she got anything at all.

Then he's noticing she's a little fuzzy-looking. "You alright?"

Hyperion has posed:
    Company is such a strange term. Hyperion, aka Mark Milton, has been living in the mansion for about two to three months now. Granted, he doesn't spend a lot of time here, having been out more often than not. Either observing the new world, drawing... or trying to find a way to help people the way he did back home.
    He -has- spent long hours in the training area trying to relearn how to control his strength. In this universe, he is even more powerful than he was back home. But given that back home, he was one of maybe a hundred superhumans in the entire world... he didn't need more power. Here, there are thousands of them.
    But still, he shrugs his shoulders and adds. "I suppose I could try that. Yes." he says to Clint. "But I have spent most of my years in journalism, and my specialty is cartoons. Childish maybe, but someone needs to draw them. Right?"
    And then he regards Wanda with a smile, "Yes. I managed to sell a few to the Bugle. But I need to do more than sell three or four drawings if I want to make it work out in the long run."
    But he nods to support Clint's words. "Either of us could have helped. But... I understand the need to do something normal."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda is thus cheek-kissed, and she offers him a soft smile, her tones turning amused, "It is time you woke. The world still turns, Clint Barton." Sleepy-head!

"Is not company. He, yes.." and as Mark explains, she underscores his words with a nod. "Driving trucks is not as easy. License requires identification. While some may not look closely?" Wanda lifts slender shoulders in the 'eeeeh' gesture before she finishes, "He does good cartoon. One day, maybe he will draw you." That last bit is given up with a sly smile, complete with a quick, humored brow raise towards the artist.

She finishes, however, with a quick wrapping of her arms around herself; it's a pretty common gesture with her. It helps bring her back to something resembling 'the here and now' as it were, and she nods once, her tones dropping. "I can shop. There is nothing wrong. You and Pietro are too protective." She unwraps long enough to point towards Mark, and she finishes, "See? He understands."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint just kinda looks at Wanda, offering just a 'blegh' in response. "I would rather stay sleeping." So many long nights and days alike makes Clint just want to take certain days and chillax. Though he looks at Mark. "I know, he's been livin' here long enough. If you like cartoons, then maybe sign on with a news industry for political or even just fun cartoons. Draw Denace the menace or somethin'." he smirks.

Then he looks at Wanda wit a huff. "Its not about being protective, its about being a gentleman. Its a lot of bags, could've helped make it easier on you." He puts his hands on his hips and huffs lightly.

Hyperion has posed:
    Not one to get in the way of a strong woman asserting herself, Mark lifts his brows. He may be nigh-invulnerable, but he's not about to get on Wanda's bad side. He lifts both hands and steps back a bit, "I was getting caught up on news and thought I might try something like Donald the Menace but..." he shrugs. "Really, I'm best if someone tells me what they want drawn and I just put it on paper."
    He smiles a bit though, just a Han Solo style side-mouth smirk. "Either way, I'd be happy to help with whatever I -can- help with. Either of you ever need backup in the field... I'm pretty fast at gettin' places. Your workout room clocked my top speed at somewhere around fifteen hundred miles per hour. At least on foot that is."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"What? Sleeping all the time?" Wanda's words are accented in that Eastern European lilt, and she's definitely teasing the archer. "I know in winter, there is hibernation, but you.. you are definitely bear."

The witch sees company, particularly by the two main men in her life as 'protection'. Pietro, well.. is obvious. They do very little apart. It's actually a little strange for the one to be without the other in some form or other. And Clint? He's been her rock in a couple of cases, both acting as protector and as partner in times of .. difficulties. "If it was too heavy, I could have carried them with magic," she reminds gently. "I wanted to go out. There is still something wrong with mansion." And when Wanda wants fresh air //outside//, where there's been more than one incidence of dark, demon magic? It's hard to find that place of safety!

The offer of aid in the field gains a quick nod as she enters the sitting room fully, glancing back towards Clint before doing so. She folds herself onto a couch, her arm resting lightly on the arm. "That is impressive," she nods before adding, "And I should know." Her brother, after all, is 'Quicksilver'. Wanda doesn't suggest a race, however; not her style! Instead?

"I know how to work with those who run that fast. Probably better than anyone else, I think."