5602/Fury reassigned me

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Fury reassigned me
Date of Scene: 16 March 2021
Location: Harry's Hideaway (Bar)
Synopsis: Bobbi and Lance catch up and discuss her promotion and pointedly not why Lance's apartment is unavailable
Cast of Characters: Lance Hunter, Bobbi Morse

Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter had been scarce again, vanishing with a little Don't Die out There, text before coming back and having apparently secured a room in the Triskelion instead of going back to his place in Westchester. Tonight though he seems to be falling back into his usual habits sending Bobbi a text inviting her down to Harry's. And when she finds him there he's sitting at a corner table a beer for each of them waiting along with a basket of wings, which is again much more normal Hunter behaviour.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi has her leather jacket on, a dark grey shirt underneath and blue jeans. Casual. She's off duty because her new job has that as a concept. She smiles as she sees her slouch over in the corner and gives Harry a wave. As she passes him she says, "Can we get some wedges too, thanks." Nose crinkle from Bobbi and he's on it.

    She joins Lance in the corner and flops down next to him, "Sooooo.. I take it whatever you were hiding in the apartment has finally been moved?" because he seems to be relaxing again and that suggests he doesn't have to feel guilty about pretending he's not up to something anymore.

    Fingers snatch some wings and she drinks the beer too. He provides, she consumes. It's a symbiotic relationship.

Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter looks up and smiles as Bobbi approaches, standing and giving her a kiss as she joins him before sinking back down in his chair. "What do you mean?" he says as much out of habit as any form of denial. "Absolutely nothing hidden at my apartment," he says before shaking his head. "You're wrong though, it's still there just had enough of these to relax a little about it all," he says nodding to the beers, clearly the wait staff have been clearing Hunter's dead soliders while he waited. "It's been a day," he says, before clocking her very casual get up. "Don't tell me Fury actually made you take some vacation time?" he ventures. Hunter's a matched set tonight, leather jacket, t-shirt, jeans, but that doesn't signify much beyond he has a pulse and dressed himself this morning.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    "Damn," she mutters, "You have the bigger TV." She sighs but it's a relationship note that she didn't go out of her way to find out what he's got hidden in there. Trust. There's trust. Of course she knows something is going on. "If it's raccoons you're cleaning up the mess."

    "Nope. Reassigned," she says cocking an eyebrow, "I am no longer a senior agent. Turns out, there are lines you can't cross without consequences after all..." She rests a thigh over his and drinks some more of the beer. "So I'm probably going to have more free time than I'm used to. Also I'm not allow to be on a Strike team or be the first through the doors on mission. So, you know, I'm having a peachy day too. And the paperwork.. oh my goodness."

Lance Hunter has posed:
"I wish it were bloody raccoons," Hunter says before smiling. "And I can probably bring my TV if you're going to let me crash at your place until this is over," he says, though their living arrangements take a sudden back seat when Bobbi lays out her news. "Consequences?! For what?! For trying to broker peace between," he drops his voice. "SHIELD and Inhumans, that's bloody ridiculous, tell you what, tomorrow I'll march up to Fury and put my boot up his ass, trenchcoat and all."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She grins and says, "Actually I think it was my current medical conditions and overstepping when setting up a mission in Russia.. annyway. Now I've been promoted so I'm Commander Morse and that's just _weird_. You know what's weirder still? There was this Inhuman called Reina who told me I'd be Sky Commander Morse." She raises an eyebrow.. conspiracy? real prediction?

    She lifts her beer trying desperately to skip over the fact that she is now a Level 8 Agent of SHIELD. Commander Morse. She recites Reina's vision in full: "I see destruction ahead of you. Standing atop a zeppelin. Missiles raining down. You will be the same but not the same anymore. Sky Commander Morse."

Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter is well and truly steamed at the news until he understands what it really is about, then he grins. "He got you," he says with laugh. "He finally got you to go level 8," he says adding, "Not sure who I should be congratulating here, you or Fury." There's a smile at that.

"Reina that's the porcupine girl you were talking about?" he asks remembering the stories from Afterlife. Though the prophecy has him blinking. "Think she means a helicarrier? I mean I know Coulson, Peggy and Fury all have their love of antiques but a zeppelin? That's a bit old even for them."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She shakes her head and remembers Reina on the ground dying as she held her hands. Her final weird prophecy, "Who knows. She spoke in riddles. And yeah. Spikey. I got some of her barbs through my hand. Hurt real bad but I healed." She smiles to Lance and tinks her beer to his then takes another sip.

    "I don't actually want the job but I'll try my best to do it right. For Gonzales. SPOT has a lot of work to do still. Speaking of which I may need you in Russia real soon to help out Barton. I need people who have good Russian accents. Anyway. Yeah. He got me on a technicality. This time I wasn't given a choice. Hill was practically glowing with self satisfaction and amusement."

    "I guess I'm a responsible adult now? I hardly consider myself a peer of Coulson or Hand or Sitwell or Garret or Brand.. but. Here I am. I have a command. I don't know about helicarriers, that's still not something I can requisition at the drop of a hat. Fury is super possessive of that thing."

Lance Hunter has posed:
No teasing this time about her healing, just a face and a little sympathetic noise, "That must have hurt," he says. "And isn't that always how it goes with people who see the future riddles, like it would be too easy to give us a straight bloody answer."

"I bet, she's been looking to bump you up to level eight for ages," he says of Hill with a shake of his head. "Russia?" he asks with raised eyebrows. "What am I getting into?" he asks, giving a little shoulder check to make sure none of the patrons have gotten too close, before putting a little gold plated lighter on the table and flicking it open. One of those antiques, a white noise generator to fool any listening devices and make it hard for people nearby to hear him.

"And of course you don't feel like a peer to them, mostly because you're better than most of them already Bob, in my humble and unbiased opinion at any rate, but I get it, you're new, there's always some adjustment, but you've walked into HYDRA bases on your own, won them over, got what you needed and got out, fitting in with the level eights'll be a piece of cake for you, Bobs. Trust me," He clinks his glass to hers. "Shame about the helicarrier though, and that prophecy, any clue what she meant?"

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She chuckles and grabs another wing. At the question about Russia she cups a hand over the lighter, "That won't be necessary. For now, it's classified." There's a cheeky wink. She's not just being facious though, it is classified. By her. She classified it. That's a thing she does now. Classify things.

    "I think that her prophecies came true so may be more of them will too. I suspect she means I will royally fuck things up. I'd believe that. I know you have faith in me but I don't ... think I'm really commander material. I'm going to make a decision and things will go badly. I won't have a Gonzales to turn to, just Hill and Fury and they aren't there to pat me on the back and say 'atta girl' any more. This is it.. I go to staff meetings now Lance."

Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter pauses with a wing halfway to his mouth when she says its classified, his expression one of mirthful annoyance. "Did you just 'it's classified me?'" he asks her before taking a bite and discarding the bone in a side bowl once it has been cleaned of meat. "This is going to be fuuuun," he says shaking his head.

He wipes his fingers off on a napkin before reaching over to put his hand on hers, "Bobs, you've got this, I know it's scary as hell, but it's like..." he searches for a comparison. "Graduating to solo flying on the quinjets, suddenly you don't have your training officer handy if you screw up and all you think about is I am definitely going to crash this thing, but eventually you get used to it and you see that your training officer was right to let you fly the bloody thing on your own, even if you didn't feel like it, you were ready. That's what Fury and Hill are doing right now Bobs, letting you find out what I already know, you got this." He gives her hand a squeeze. "Though staff meetings?" he adds with a bit of humour. "Want to upgrade to shots then?" he asks of her drinks.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She smirks at him and raises both eyebrows, "I did." She positively laughs at his displeasure though and takes another sip of the beer. "You'll just have to trust me. That's the way this works." Besides which, she suspects if she's not careful with how she plans this op, the Red Room will be ready for them. They're the only other spy agency in the world that seems to always be a step ahead.

    "Sure, right. You don't put some one up for promotion or through an exam unless you're sure they're ready. So, I guess I'm ready. This was the fifth time I'd been offered a Level 8 posting." She smiles, "The job never gets any easier, but now I have to trust the people under me even more than before not to screw up. It's hard letting go of micro managing every little thing.. Apparently I need to get a Level 7 agent for the team. They will get to do what I did - micro manage every little thing."

    "And sheesh the number of operations, historical and current, as well as the resources and assets that I now have to manage." She'd tell him about The Iliad if she had read more about it and knew how classified it was meant to be yet. It's exciting to have a whole battleship under your command that you've never even heard of before. She squeezes his hand back, "Yeeah staff meetings. I so want shots."

Lance Hunter has posed:
"Yep, you're going to be insufferable about this too, I can tell," Hunter says with an earnest smile. "And of course I trust you Bobs, you're you, besides you'd be bored without me, so, counting on that as extra motivation for you to keep me safe."

"SPOT's got good people though right? From what you said about them, though who's going to be the new you?" he asks.

"The burdens of command, it usually comes in metric tons of paperwork," he remarks. "This is why I don't miss being a lieutenant," he says. "Too much paperwork, don't worry though, I'll visit you in your office and tell all about the fun you're missing," he promises with a wink, before putting up his hand to catch their server's attention and get them some shots. "I'd go one per level but we both need to be able to work tomorrow," he teases, "So two a piece?"

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She shakes her head, "I have no idea. That's Hill's department. I do get to veto someone though but she hasn't sent me options yet. Whoever it is I'm sure they'll be competent. It's SHIELD after all. We don't take in just anyone." She places the bottom of her now empty beer bottle on the table and sits up for the shows. The wedges arrive too and she grins, "Two apiece. Back to my quarters. Marbles til we pass out?"

Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter laughs, "Well, not to burst your bubble Bobs, but they did take me," he says of SHIELD's recruitment standards with a smile. He nods stealing one of the wedges as they arrive with the shots. "Sounds like a plan," he says. He'll bring up needing to stay there for a little while later for now it's drinks, food and eventually marbles, a bloody good way to spend the night.