520/Filling the Hollow Leg

Filling the Hollow Leg
Date of Scene:	14 March 2020
Location:	Food Court: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Daniel promises Sam an excursion to ease tensions.
Cast of Characters:	Daniel Hastings, Samuel Morgan

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Daniel Hastings has posed:
One could argue that the food court is the central hub of SHIELD. After all, an army marches on its stomach and this facility might as well hold one. Daniel has been eating twice his normal intake for a solid month and finally its paid off. He's back to his healthy weight and looking good. It also means that he's cut back on the calories. Today that means he's got a cup of tea in front of him and a cobb salad. He's also got a tablet in hand that is, as always, catching him up on the latest and greatest historical moments. He's into the 1990s now.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Of course, leave it to Sam to have the luck that his weekly visit gets scheduled during some of the busiest hours. By the time he has wrangled with the food line, marshaled cutlery and generally avoided getting too close to anyone, most seats were already taken. Grand. It's a times like these that he follows the infallible lead of his assistance dog, Bear, who unerringly guides him through the throng and towards a table with only one other person at it. Which just happens to be Hastings, Daniel, Agent.

    The teen takes the seat without asking or being offered, his tray piled with a veritable selection of everything that was on offer. His own security badge is visible from across the table, naturally, proclaiming him to be Morgan, Samuel, Agent (Tr.). A trainee without a training officer nearby? With a German Shepherd companion that comes to obediently sit next to his chair? What's SHIELD coming to?

Daniel Hastings has posed:
Dan doesn't have to look up to note someone coming. He does it out of reflex. Mostly because of the dog. He has a love hate relationship with GSDs. It's not the dog's fault. They're great. They were just used en masse by Nazis. So he decides to stop staring at the dog and look up at the youth who came with it. "Alright?" He profers casually with a bit of a smile. "Don't believe we've met. Dan Hastings." He extends a hand across the table to the young man.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    For a breed with a certain reputation, Bear is certainly doing his part for positive PR. The lolling tongue, the almost perpetually pricked up ears, the happy grins... that's one happy dog. Even the Genoshan kids in Wakanda had seen straight past his K-9 outfit. The human he's with? Jury's still out on that one.

    But at least the teenager shakes the offered hand, nodding. "Says so on your badge. Sam Morgan, pleasure." It's all said with a smile, but... the smile does not quite reach the bright blue eyes. Blue eyes, blonde hair, german shepherd... One could be excused for drawing certain inferences.

Daniel Hastings has posed:
"It does." Daniel replies, "Doesn't mean a bloke can't be polite." He looks to the plethora of food on your tray and chuckles. "You've got me curious. Not that everyone doesn't seem to have a reason for being here. But you're a bit young to be an intern even for SHIELD." The man's hazel eyes take a sweep of the youth before him as if trying to place him or generally get a feel. "I take it you're otherwise.. gifted?" Call it conversation. He picks up his tea, anyway, and sips it.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "That's a word that can mean many things." is Sam's reply with a smile that's just a touch more genuine now. And of course, he has to attend to his food even while talking, although he makes sure that he never talks with a full mouth. Someone has clearly taught him manners, as further evidenced by how he precisely arranges his cutlery as if this were a formal dinner and a manor, and not just a quick bite at a food court. "You'd be correct in three different meanings of that word."

Daniel Hastings has posed:
    Daniel chuckles, "Only three? I'll tell you what then, Mister Morgan. Let's start with one of them. Whichever you consider the second. That ought to keep us chatting for at least until I finish my salad." He makes no promises for the virtual buffet before you. "And in kind, I will.. share with you a similarly middling point of interest. Does that sound fair?" Daniel's accent is most certainly British in origin. That much might be a thing to talk about though likely doesn't count as even middling. Meanwhile, he sets back to working on his salad and leaving the tablet ignored for the present.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Quite the assignment, Mister Hastings." But cogs are already turning in Sam's head, taking a bite from what appears to be a generous helping of lasagna. The teen's own accent is, alas, very much colonial. But it's a strange one nevertheless, borrowing from different states in different measures. There's some Virginia in there, and an unmistakable twang of Kentucky and the Carolinas... but some recent New York appears to have crept in as well. He regards the man opposite him for a moment, and then makes his decision.

    "I study Physics, Robotics, Chemistry and Engineering at MIT. Have my invitation for Mensa tucked away in a drawer somewhere."

Daniel Hastings has posed:
    "Was it?" Daniel profers the question with a smile. "Seems to me you answered quickly enough.. and dicretely. If I'm ever asked." He dips his chin to the lad as if complimenting him on that point. "I hold doctorates in applied mathematics, physics and astrophysics from Oxford. Dabble now and then in engineering if only to apply some of the principles I research. Not so much manufacturaing as.. proof of concept. Much like the advanced accelerometers that have been built. It's one thing to theorize.. but then one must have evidence, don't you think."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Pure theory does tend to advance pure science, but without pragmatics quite often pure theory becomes the basis for more theory, and soon enough you start to wonder if the laws of physics are a mass hallucination while trying to claw your way out of Plato's cave." Theoretical physicists clearly need not apply here. Sam does take the compliment with a nod of his own. "But that, of course, now leaves me open to the follow up questions as to which I consider to be less or more gifted than that. An assault at the center of the line to break through. But which way will your blitzkrieg go, I wonder? More, or less?"

    It should be noted that he pronounced 'Blitzkrieg' eerily exact.

Daniel Hastings has posed:
    "Are we playing chess now?" Daniel tilts his head as he lowers his tea. "Or were you thinking that I might try to corner a desert fox?" A popular appelation given to Rommel. "No.. I can assure you that there are a great many theoreticians in the field right now that would likely throw their hands in the air and shift to applied physics were I to share some of what I'm privy to. For myself.. it.. has both validated and frustrated my work. Extraterrestrial civilizations being what they are." His fork begins to gather another varietal bite together. "You'll forgive me if I've no intention of interrogating you. Volunteer what you like. Though I could ask what your companion's name is." His fork gives a vague gesture to the dog.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "My apologies, I'm being very rude." Sam even puts down his fork to indicate his fuzzy companion, a sure sign that he's looking to make amends. "Mister Hastings, meet Bear. Aside from being about as smart as the average teenager, he also keeps me sane. Literally." Which is a statement with some charge to it, but it doesn't seem like any further information is forthcoming. Bear, for his part, recognises this as an introduction and sits up to offer a paw for a shake.

    "I'm... used to having to answer difficult questions around here. Sorry about that. I switched teams a few months ago, there's still some trust issues." Which appear to be alleviated with garlic bread, given the large bite.

Daniel Hastings has posed:
    Daniel notes the lifted paw and.. offers his left hand to shake the paw. He also wipes his hand after. I mean.. the fellow /is/ trying to eat after all and paws are all over the floor. "Bear. Hello." But then he's looking to Sam a little more shrewdly. "I can imagine so. I was hoping to see HYDRA be no more by the time I got back.. but then I was expecting SHIELD to be much the same. So here we are." He dips his chin to Sam as if to knowledge the difficulty present. "Of course, just that fact alone implies quite a few things. Desired skills. An.. intent.. on your part to rectify wrongs. Or am I mistaken?"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "If that weren't the case, we wouldn't be talking. At least, not in such a pleasant environment." If Sam wasn't wholly committed to rehabilitation, there'd likely be a few inches of bomb resistant material between him and any SHIELD agent wishing to talk to him... and a few feet of concrete between him and anyone else if they didn't. "Skills is one other area where I consider myself gifted. As much as I wish that wasn't the case. And right now, I'm mostly adrift, if tethered very firmly to this good ship."

Daniel Hastings has posed:
    Daniel takes a deep breath. "Trust is a ship that takes a long time to build.. but if the keel is solid.. it can take many hits before sinking." A nautical metaphor from a Brit, go fig. "You are not the first to have to build that ship. Nor will you be the last. If you're committed to it then soon you will be sailing it to far shores freely with wind and sail at your command." He smiles then and sets his fork down in his salad bowl. "It's a good ship, Sam. I'm told by a reliable source there's a seasoned captain at the helm that can be trusted. Be patient. If not just with us.. but with yourself. You're young and if I remember when I was your age.. life was a bit of a trial even without.. more nuanced influences over it."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Are we talking about the metaphorical captain, or the literal captain?" Metaphors, useful as they might be, can be confusing. Fury or Rogers appears to Sam's question. "If... There's been... " Nope, none of those seem to work, and the garlic bread pays the price. As does the lasagna. And the salad. At some point it's utterly inevitable he'll go for dessert. "I have no choice but to trust. But to borrow your simile, I'm an able seaman, a foremast jack, who's been told by the bosun to join the afterguard. I can see the others going aloft, but I'm not allowed to touch a single rope."

Daniel Hastings has posed:
    "That can be frustrating, I'm sure." Daniel observes, not seeming to have any difficulty following. "But then you did say you just jumped ships from a foreign navy. Would /you/ trust such a sailor willy nilly? No.. I doubt anyone is doubting your talent. Quite the contrary. If they felt you were harmless, you'd likely be given a task already. So consider it a compliment. They see you as someone capable of doing great good but also great harm. So there must be a careful hand at the tiller. Lest the ship founder upon the shoal that is you." There's a look to how fast you're devouring food.. and it brings a chuckle. "Right now.. your greatest problem I think is you're going a little stir crazy. Am I wrong?"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    A full broadside 'twixt weather and water. Sam actually puts his cutlery down for a moment and takes another, far more professional look at his table companion. Those remarks were incredibly well placed. An eyebrow lifts, but lowers a moment later, and that smile resurfaces. "Exactly. It's not like I don't know all that, but... knowing it intellectually and understanding it emotionally are two different things. SHIELD isn't doing anything I wouldn't do in their position. But pretending to be a normal kid at a high school, with at least one teaching assistant looking like she's seen right through the act is a bit..." Whatever it is, he lets the descriptor hang, opting instead to return to his food. Not much is left by now.

Daniel Hastings has posed:
"If it makes you feel any better, we do have agents at the school to.. mitigate.. some of your concerns." Daniel offers pragmatically. "I tell you what. Who's your handler? I'll.. give them a little chat. See if we can't arrange a few outings. Supervised, of course, but we had to start somewhere yes? What are your interests? Art? Sports? Music? Please lets not say video games because they all look like training programs to me and I don't think that's what you're after."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "At the moment, I don't have an assigned handler. I'm supposed to stay out of trouble, and present myself for any interrogation or debriefing that might be required." There's no rancor in the words, but Sam is clearly not entirely happy about the situation. But then what teenager is? "I'm... currently working on an ehmm... engineering project. But I appreciate art, music and sports as much as anyone else."

Daniel Hastings has posed:
    "Fishing? Surf casting? Does that appeal at all?" Daniel is rather spitballing ideas at the moment. "Do you have an instrument you play? Any particular sport? Not that I can say I'm terribly good at cricket but I'm a fair forward in football." Likely, he means soccer. "Work is work but it doesn't exacly ease the tension the way a solid afternoon sodding off does." He winks.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "I fear you're vastly over estimating the opportunities for relaxation over in the other navy." Sam smiles, having just finished the last of his lasagna. And salad. "If it didn't serve a purpose, it didn't have value. So I do a bit of everything, but enjoying it... don't know." Except, maybe he does. An idea seems to occur. "How about this... do you ride? Motorcycles, I mean."

Daniel Hastings has posed:
"I had a Triumph after the war.. but I have to say it's been years since I've been on one." Daniel remarks with a laugh. "Maybe if we found a stretch off the Isle of Man.. they have go for it." There's a stroke of his chin as if suddenly he's having this notion in his head. "In fact.. why don't you finish your meal and I'll go see what I can do. I.. assume you don't have one of your own?"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    After the war? Which war? Some suspicions are starting to surface, but for now Sam chooses to simply observe. There's more to this man than meets the eye. Alluded encounters with aliens, for one... "New York is pretty permissive, but they don't hand out licenses like candy. Not to mention I can't afford a bike on my pay, so... I take it you're going to work some British magic?"

Daniel Hastings has posed:
    "I might." Daniel replies slyly. "Besides, I wouldn't be suggesting we ride in New York. I doubt the uppers would go for it. Something out of the way and unexpected? Maybe." He strokes his chin thoughtfully then shrugs. "Until then.. I can likely arrange some surf casting." Which is likely why he mentioned it. "To get some fresh air.. but I like this idea of letting off some steam on a personal rocket. In fact.. I hear good things about advancements in the area. Not.. well.. good things." He amends to his previous with a nod as he stands up, taking his tray.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "I hear there's some pretty decent fishing near Palm cove on Staten Island." Sam mentions offhand, still having some food left on his tray to devour. But he glances over to Daniel with a smile. "Maybe you can show me the finer points of surf casting. Good meeting you."

Daniel Hastings has posed:
    Daniel tips Sam a snap salute. "I'm sure we can think of a place. Maybe something a little more exotic than Staten Island. The water around here.. let's just say I'm not sure the fish are edible." There's a wan sort of look on his face at that then he strolls off to dispose of his tray.