5768/A Quiet(ish) Sunday

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A Quiet(ish) Sunday
Date of Scene: 28 March 2021
Location: Carter-Sousa Home - Long Island
Synopsis: An almost comfortable brunch at the Long Island 'safehouse' ends up with another interrogation of their HYDRA prisoner.
Cast of Characters: Peggy Carter, Melinda May, Clint Barton, Daisy Johnson, Jemma Simmons, Bobbi Morse

Peggy Carter has posed:
When everything happened, Peggy was incredibly relieved she'd already set up a small network of burner phones between those agents that had been helping on the secert hunt for HYDRA. It made keeping everything off the books and undercover a lot easier. Barton was the one person she didn't have a private contact for yet, and slipping 'burn after reading' notes into people's hands in the hallways of the Triskelion was a habit of now by-gone days, but there's enough overlap that the message can get to him as well. 'Sunday Brunch. Planning and reassessment? Will be lots of food, friendly faces, drinks. 1221 Hempstead Way. Come hungry. -P.C.'

Long ago, Peggy's learned she can't cook. Especially not for people. But it's Long Island and picking up a few trays of brunch food from the local caterer (especially during Lent when old fashioned families are all having big Sunday brunches) doesn't gain a blink of an eye. So, Peggy's just come back from the pick up and is laying out trays of delicious smelling food -- eggs with cheese and without, french toast, pancakes, bacon, faux-bacon, grits. She wrinkles her nose a bit at the grits, but puts the attached toppings out with it -- honey, butter, cheese. "...they said it was a breakfast food. I mean... I've heard of it but... Really? This is food?" Not that the English can do much better for themselves, but she's confused. There is coffee going, bottles of cheap champagne, orange juice, a huge pot of tea, and plates for everyone.

It's the first time the Carter-Sousa houehold has hosted a meal in 64 years and it feels almost normal. Nice. The house was set up to do this and was supposed to be a place of welcome for agents and friends on long weekends after too much work. Peggy stares across the dishes in the now food-crowded kitchen, eyes a million miles away for a few moments.

Melinda May has posed:
May emerges from the basement, where she spent much of the night just sitting outside Vogel's prison, reading. Truthfully, she's found she prefers the nightshift. It's less 'noisy'. She tucks a small leather bound book into an inside pocket on her jacket as she steps off the last stair and moves through into the kitchen.

The smell of food is a surprise. The contemplative mood of her friend, less so. On the other hand, it's better than the roiling emotions of Friday night. Now that those have settled into something a little less active, she finds it far easier to think clearly.

"You brought something in," she says, somewhat needlessly. It's definitely the smartest move. "Smells good..."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint pulls up on a motorcycle, parks it in front of the house and heads up to the door after a quick look around. Wearing boots, jeans and a brown leather jacket over a gray hoodie, he looks like he fits the bike well. He's calmed down a good bit from Friday, but he still carries an aura of slight anger with him wherever he goes right now.

The old house does bring out a little smile on his face though. It's a nice house, nothing like what you'd expect a spy to live in.

In other words, perfect.

He walks up to the door and knocks, continuing to glance around the area as he waits for an answer.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Daisy hadn't immediately gone to one of the safehouses. She had loose ends to tie up, a new identity to fetch and ..., goodbyes to be made. Not a 'forever-goodbye', she was used to this by now. Going dark, being hunted by one org or another. Last time it had been SHIELD after her. Now it was the government, and Hydra. Just a 'small' change. But what mattered is that she'd be ready.

For they were Agents of SHIELD.

Armed with a large backpack over her shoulders she had made way to her van. Trusty old van. License plates had been changed, and it now belonged to one 'Mary Sue Poots', her old/new identity. Damn you St. Anges Orphanage sisters for naming like her that. But now it would come in handy.

Yet there were other places to go, people to get. A few in particular in the form of Fitz and Simmons. And while only the latter had been reached she was hoping Fitz was just as fine. Hopefully not having fallen asleep at the lab and arrested by the government..

"Welcome to my van, Jemms." She greets the scientist, opening the door for her so they start making way to the safe house. "It's time to go to one of our safe houses. You got everything you need with you?" She asks, looking her friend over while she drove over to Long Island, arriving not too long after Clint does. She does that usual, one time around the block to check for any cars after her before finally moving to park.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
Jemma actually had a head start on Daisy. She, for one, recognized the address given as being the very home that she went to with a pocket full of sedatives a few days prior. And...she knew it wasn't just any old safehouse. It was Peggy's former home. Still, she kept that small detail quiet. Let Daisy be surprised when they get there.

Of course, as they grew closer, it was evident that Jemma had been to the house before. Especially when she began to offer directions, without referring to her new tablet or any sort of GPS. It might give Daisy a moment to suspect. When the van pulls up to the house, with its 1950's sitcom charm, there is a slight suggestion to park behind the motorcycle that had arrived before. And, if Daisy was paying attention, the sign on the mailbox would betray the home for what it is.

"All set, then?" That warm smile flashes at Daisy as Jemma departs from the van, while Jemma herself waits for Daisy to come around before they walk for the front door together. Do they knock or just walk in like some sort of busy-body neighbor?

If it is up to Jemma, she knocks first. No sense forgoing manners now...

Peggy Carter has posed:
Seeing May come up from the basement gets a curious look, "I hope he wasn't too much. I...think he's settled down. But you should bring him a plate when you're up for it, since you're his...'Friend'." Peggy smirks at the thought. "And yes. I learned a long time ago this was Daniel's kitchen and the only cooking I should do in here is opening take out. So, I got take out. Hell, even bring him a drink, if you like." She's moving to pour tea for herself, better to start with that than the disaster-champagne. Then there is a knock. She blinks, unaccustomed to spies using the front door. But, neighborhood wise, the strangest thing here is the place being used again after decades of being abandoned other than cleaners.

When Clint is the first to arrive, Peggy looks a little surprised but pleasantly so. She gives him a slight smile and tilt of her head, "Barton. Glad to see you... Come in and eat something. Then we'll consider work." Her clipped, calm, British voice offers gently. Once he's inside, things get a bit more weird. She doesn't seem to live here or, if she does, she literally hasn't changed a thing since the 1950s. The place looks a little more lived in that last week and the desk is covered in a fresh stack of files and tablets (also with a conspiracy/logic board behind it covered in pictures, files, and notes about HYDRA, Vogel, 'The Cabal', and other things. But otherwise, the house looks like a museum.

Outside the house, for the soon arriving Jemma and Daisy, it's unnervingly normal. Some kids are playing in a yard four houses down and another family is loading out of a nice SUV all in fancy enough clothing that they are probably coming from church somewhere. There are lawnmowers in the distance and one person sculpting hedges at the end of the block. This is a world that SHIELD or the news doesn't touch. Just enough money and just far enough from the city to be protected from chaos and danger. Daisy's van gets a bit of a look from across the street, but maybe they're just movers? The person drops their curtains and goes back to their Sunday.

Melinda May has posed:
May gives a hint of a wry smile. "Yeah, I'll make sure he eats." That she has any sort of rapport with Vogel is just odd. She's not usually the one playing 'good cop'. But, in this case, it works.

She gives Barton a nod as he comes in -- then Daisy and Jemma arrive. With each new arrival, May's expression shifts slowly back into that controlled 'game face' she's so often worn when dealing with tough missions. A way to school her emotions.

She so very much looks forward to a time when this will be second nature instead of conscious effort.

She considers the likelihood she'll get to slip away to give the squid in the basement his food during the rest of the planning session. Right. She turns, picks up a plate and dishes up a reasonable portion of the food. She grabs a plastic spoon for him to eat with. Because, no. Not leaving the jerk with metal anything. Paper plate. Plastic spoon.

Then, she disappears down the stairs to deliver it.

Clint Barton has posed:
When Peggy lets him in he nods and greets her with "Nice place, not where anyone's gonna be looking." He looks around, taking in the decor without comment. Given his decorating and housekeeping skills, this place is a miracle in comparison, actually decorated and not completely overtaken with work.

"Thanks, I could do with a little something." He makes his way to the kitchen, nodding to May as he passes her, then grins, "Ok, you know how to feed hungry agents. Suppose that shouldn't be a surprise, you've got a little experience dealing with us at this point."

He grabs a little bit of everything except fake bacon, which is a sin, and possibly a HYDRA invention, and looks for a place to settle in and eat.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"Wait.. You have been here. My spy nose is telling me that.." Daisy eyes Jemma suspiciously, specially after she start giving directions. Guess all those years as a spy helped Daisy with this! She lets out a bit of a hmph followed by a shake of her head but then she smiles. It was good to see Jemma seemed to be in an okay mood at least.

When they step out of the van she looks around. "It's like we have been blasted back to the past." she looks back to Jemma. "Did I break past 88 miles per hour, Jemms?" see? Some movie fans will understand that one ...

Knocking though? Maybe this house out of the 50s is brushing up on her. The normal-Daisy would just barge in! So yes..., they knock. Is there a SHIELD secret knock?

Knock. Knock-Knock.... Knock.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
"Amazing." Jemma offers that sweet smile...but perhaps it is a little too saccharine. "I can only hope to have as refined of espionage senses as you have developed." Then....was that a flicker of a wink? Jemma *must* be in a good mood. Another comment is given. "Personally, I felt as if I stepped into I Love Lucy, but that was just me."

Alright, knocking was given. Even if it was some sort of strange pattern that Daisy just took upon herself to conjure. Now it is Jemma's turn to continue to surprise Daisy. The hand reaches out, grasping the doorknob and giving it a twist. As the door opens, Jemma calls inward. "It is just Daisy and me, Peggy..."

Another new development for Daisy. Yes, Jemma and Peggy are on first name basis now. Or, well, at least Jemma finally got over the formalities inbred in her to allow her to use Peggy's first name. That's progress, yes?

And then, Jemma offers Daisy to enter first, only following in and closing the door after the hacker superspy crosses over the threshold and back in time to the 50's, judging from the decor.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Before May goes down to the basement, Peggy looks between Barton and the woman, "Bring him the food. Maybe let him know a 'handler' is going to be coming today to... talk to him. That his status has been elevated and we want to get the treatment 'right' or something. Handler being here," Peggy nods towards Clint, "But get food in you first. We don't want him to think we're over excited to see him. Besides, after talking to the arsehole, you might lose your appetite. So, eat." Peggy smiles a bit more. "And of course I know how to feed agents. You either don't eat or you eat everything in sight, probably because you didn't eat. If we bloody well deserve *anything* right now it's a nice meal and some good company before we go back to the world that is hunting us." Oh, there's anger there. She has it mostly under wraps (other than probably May feeling it) but the trained agents can probably hear it at the edge of her words. A sharpness Peggy normally doesn't have. She's swearing. It's bad. She's *piised*.

She is pissed enough that Daisy and Jemma can probably here those words through the 1950s door. It's not the heavy steel of the bomb shelter below, but just a regular house door with some windows cracked open on the sides to let the fresh air in, so Peggy's tone a few levels above normal is evident. Then she plasters a smile on her face and opens it up for the other two women, relaxing a bit as she hears the names called through the door. It means she doesn't have an ICER in hand opening it. "When did we all start knocking? Don't tell me someone trained manners into you all? Heresy. Come in...there is food, drinks, chairs, and HYDRA in the bomb shelter. You know, a regular Sunday." She quips out gently. "If any of you want to stay, there's still one bedroom open upstairs and I've set a cot up in the office down here, just put bags there." Then she's ushering them a bit more to food and steps back a few moments, just watching.

There were people in her house. Agents chattering away, shoving down good smelling food and coffee on a Sunday morning. It's like a modern reflection of the happy black and white photos on the wall, so many of them SHIELD or SHIELD Alumni (other than the wedding and baby photos.) Something in Peggy releases, edges of grief that she can't cling to when seeing this place come alive again. He'd have wanted this more than what she did, she knows that much. The bullet jar on the mantel gleams in the Sunday morning sunlight.

Melinda May has posed:
May nods to Peggy before retreating downstairs with plate and a flimsy disposable beer cup with water in it. "Yeah. I'll go make nice with the squid, then come eat. I don't intend to say with him long." There's too much subtle anger in the house for her to do that, right now. Though she may get a better assessment of *his* emotional state while she's there. Proximity and all that.

When she returns, some long moments later, her steps are light and quick on the stairs. Her expression is still controlled and her shoulders are tight. But she finds herself a plate after all the others have dished up and starts spooning a reasonable portion onto it before she finds herself a large cup of strong, black tea to curl around when she finally finds a place to sit.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint leans back in his chair so he can look through the doorway to the front room and see who is coming in now. His mouth being full at that exact moment, he just waves in Jemma and Daisy's direction, then continues to eat.

Finally taking a break, he says, "Or sure, lure me in with bacon and then ruin my day with HYDRA. What exactly are we doing with him, anyway, do we really expect him to give up info? And if May's his caretaker, does that make me the bad cop?"

He takes a cup of black coffee and takes a drink, then looks to Jemma, "Good that you're here, I need some help with some toys. Can't use my arrows on anything we do to clear this mess up, they kind of announce me. I was wondering if you or Fitz could give me a hand with some throwing knives that do some of the same tricks."

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"Oh, I see how this is..." Daisy tells Jemma in that faux-affronted manner of hers. As if she could get upset with her best friend. "And I can see your look, Jemma.." this after the 'special' knock. "Though I will let you know that *everyone* knows my knock and ..." there goes Jemma opening the door and calling for Peggy. It makes Daisy place her hands on her hips. "Anything else you may want to reveal, Doctor Simmons?" another hmph.

It's when she hears Peggy's cursing. Uh-Oh. But can Daisy blame her? Things are still too raw. Though Daisy's approach seems to be to handle things in a more humorous manner today. No need to add to the other Agents's stress. She takes in a breath, hand up to touch at the medallion around her neck and then she is making her way in.

"It was Jemma's idea to knock.." See what you get for keeping things from Daisy, Jemms? Vicious comebacks and lies! She is carrying that backpack with her now, looking around and smiling faintly at Peggy. "Hello, Peggy." then a look to Clint, perhaps a bit surprised to find the man here. But not that surprised that he is already stuffing his face with food. "You have been caught on the act, Agent Barton." she then nodding at Peggy's offer for a room. "Might take you up on that." an eyebrow arching to Jemma. "Roommates?"

And is that bacon? No matter that it's false-bacon. She wanders over to it. "Oh this is great. I love this." warning. Hydra Agent detected. She casts a brief look to May, smiling at her. "It does beat the cafeteria food doesn't it?" a pause, "Maybe I will have to send Fitz a pic of this meal to lure him in."

Jemma Simmons has posed:
There might have been a laugh as Daisy demands answers. This is what happens when one leaves Jemma to her own devices. She learns...she evolves. She also has quips ready for Daisy. "Hmm, I did assist in the transport of a Hydra operative from a previous location to the safe room currently located in the basement of the house we are in, by means of sedative procured from the medical ward." A pause, then her shoulders shrug. "So...surprise??"

Hey, Daisy did ask if Jemma had anything else. She has lots, but she can share only a few. Including clandestine raids of controlled substances.

The tone is heard as Jemma steps away from the door. Of course she is concerned. Who wouldn't be? But, she also knows that there is little that she can do. Peggy has every right to be angry...and really, releasing the emotion is good for Peggy. It may not be so pleasant for those sensitive to that sort of thing, as brown eyes shift to May for any possible reactions. But...it has to be better than Jemma's method of emotional control.


Peggy Carter has posed:
There is a slight pinch behind Peggy's eyes of worry as she sees May coming back up the stairs, but she doesn't ask after it since the woman is volunteering nothing but getting tea. If things were horribly wrong, she'd probably have let them know already. Peggy then looks back to Clint and sighs, settling down with her own plate, "You know, I should make us all eat and not work for a bit. Get our minds off...whatever. Recover more. That goes for both of you too." She levels a look at Daisy and Jemma. "But I suspect the way we all get though is working so..."

She smirks over a bit of her eggs, swallowing before she speaks again to Clint. "I'm the bad cop. Well, myself and Lance. He rather hates us. Bobbi suggested you be the...Handler is the word she used. Not good, not bad. The authority set to 'deal' with him. So he thinks you've got clout over any of us and he might spill a bit more to get on your side or get sway with you. Unless someone else cares to step up to the job after breakfast?" Dark eyes rest questioningly on Daisy and Jemma with that.

"This man isn't Red Skull-like HYDRA. He's an over ambitious billionaire who is used to swaying the world with corporations, money, and lobbyists. Hell, a good quarter of the technology SHIELD uses he *sold* to us." There's that anger again. She swallows it back with some tea, takes a breath and looks to Daisy, "And yes, if we could get Fitz here, I quite want to speak to him about pulling the bit of Vogel's tech our of our communicators. It should make it so HYDRA can't track what we're saying. But we've got to strip it *all* out."

She then stands and moves for the champagne. This conversation requires a drink and this is acceptable morning drinking. "Anyone else?" She asks as she pours a generous mimosa for herself, and then continues, "If keeping him alive could get us more information or... maybe... some clout to trade with later, it's worth doing so. I suppose." Her eyes land on May as she says that, the woman having been then biggest proponent of the man still breathing.

Melinda May has posed:
Oh, there's nothing much May will say about Vogel while they're eating. He's an asshole. They all know that. Nothing new to report there. He's also pissed by his confinement, though he is *trying* to sweet talk May. She doesn't like feeling what he feels, really. At all.

Sympathy for the devil, and all that.

She listens to Peggy's report on the man and gives a mild shake of her head. "To hear him talk, he's the damned heir to Arturo Malevolo himself. The one to lead HYDRA back to it's 'proper place' in the world." Her eyes are flat as she says it. As Peggy offers the alcohol, however, she glances to her tea. Reluctantly, it's clear in her eyes, she refuses with a small shake of her head. A clearer head means more control over errant spikes of emotions.

"For those of you not up to speed, there seem to be two flavours of HYDRA out there: The Red Skull/Daniel Whitehall version we all know and hate, and an older, more cultic version that is built on the back of some old religion and believes in 'playing all sides to the middle'. Think of them like amoral weapons dealers -- they'll sell to both sides, make a profit no matter who wins, and walk away scot free in the end. That's their attitude. According to Huttz and Vogel, Schmidt and Whitehall are abberrations."

She looks around at the house they're in, knowing full well why they're here and still feeling the echoes of emotions everyone carries from Friday night. "I think they're full of shit about not caring whether SHIELD stands or falls, but I still believe them about the rest -- as far as it goes, anyway. We obviously pissed somebody off when we hit the temple, interrogated Huttz, and kidnapped Vogel. They wouldn't have come at us as they did, otherwise."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint shrugs, "I can do that. Making believe I've got power I don't is part and parcel of being a spy. I'll want to talk to you about it before I talk to him, but we don't have to do that right now since we're eating and being social."

Speaking of which, he continues making progress on his plate, now breaking into the pancakes. Butter and syrup come into play in large quantities, and he takes another drink of his coffee. "So how's everyone doing, everybody got a place yet? Unfortunately I can't offer mine, all things considered. Too high profile."

He listens to the talk about the communicators, then adds, "If you like, I could talk to Tony, see if some encrypted comm units nobody but he has put tech into might fall off a truck in our direction."

May's explanation gets a shrug, "Well, maybe he can give us some useful info, but at this point, all of it has to go. I'm sick of those tentacles popping up over and over."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I'll take the comm units, or... really, anything at this point. When it was just a handful of us doing missions behind SHIELD's back, I didn't mind messy trac phones and a few cobbled together bits of things. Now that it seems all of SHIELD shouldn't be using SHIELD communications..." Peggy sighs, sinking back in her chair at the kitchen table and rubbing one hand down her face tiredly. She's so. Damn. Tired. "We... need better tech. We can't act like we're undergrads playing at spy."

She's silently for a few heartbeats, trying to enjoy the sound of people eating in her home. It was nice, but it still felt off. Even the inscrutible Peggy Carter is feeling off her game after everything. "May, if you want to take Clint down and make introductions after food, we might as well start. He gets to stay alive as long as he's useful to us. I know that sounds... cold, but... Fuck. They took *everything*. And Barton's right. They *all* need to go. We've been doing this too... too damn long." Dark eyes shift over to stare at a black and white photo on the walk. Daniel, Peggy, Lily (who looks identical to May, uncomfortably so), and Rose in a newspaper clipping about HYDRA. "..too long." She echoes softly.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Daisy has heard of these two faces of the Hydra. The militant and the other one. Playing both sides, always winning no matter the outcome. Brilliant, really. But it also makes her frown. At least she is stuffing her face, chewing quietly and taking a bit of that champagne. Maybe she will have to turn into a morning drinker. Ugh.. But exceptions can be taken right now, "Got too close to them." she nods in agreement. "But they also revealed themselves. So now it's time to hunt.."

And oh yes, Daisy was ready.

After this glass of champagne which is tasting deliciously.

She casts a brief look around the house, taking in the memories all around it. It speaks of the woman that lives here now, of her story, and that of SHIELD's, she smiling as she looks at the paper clips, or the rest of the mementos a bit all over the place. "Well..." a beat, ".., if the man needs to be threatened with violence, or perhaps .., quaked a bit I can give it a try if everything else fails." her expression darkening just a notch. But after what they had done to Afterlife she was ready to .., go one step further.

Melinda May has posed:
May sets her plate aside and pulls herself to her feet. "I won't argue with you," she says as to assasinating Vogel when the time comes. "But remember this: In the dark or not, we're still SHIELD. They need to go. And if they go down in a fight, that's fine. But if we start playing judge, jury, and executioner... we'll be no better than them." She looks toward the mantle, where the jar sits and where the pictures of all those agents from the past sit.

"I'll make the hard calls. I'll pull the trigger. I've done it before. I'll do it again. But let's be clear that when we cross that line, there's no going back. I know SHIELD has ordered hits and assassinations before. And we'll do it again. I won't be sad to see this asshole dead. I won't  besad to see HYDRA obliterated. But we are a SHIELD. We are not the axe. Remember that."

She's been spending a lot of time thinking about it, lately, thanks to everything that's been thrown at her in the past month. What does it mean to be in SHIELD? Why do they do what they do? Who are they protecting, really?

She's just gotten lucky enough, lately, to have a better angel sitting on her shoulder. The legacy of Lily Chen is long, indeed.

She lets out a slow breath and rolls her head and shoulders briefly before looking toward that basement door. Then, with nothing further said, she squares her shoulders and heads for the stairs.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint shrugs, "The problem is, a SHIELD eventually breaks if you don't keep people from hammering on it. HYDRA's been doing that since the day we started, and I think we're to the point... it's us or them. I don't especially want to execute helpless prisoners, it's not my style, but right now, to make a clean sweep, I'll make an exception. I'll have to live with it for the rest of my life, we all will, but at least we'll have those lives to live.

He puts his knife and fork down and takes another drink of his coffee. "And Agent Carter, that's a dollar in the swear jar." He winks at the ex-Director with a little grin. Gotta keep some balance, after all. He's been taught that very well lately. So he'll joke, even when what he wants to do is shoot people.

"We want anyone else here for this, or should we just get started? I'm ready either way, so you tell me and I'll put on my agent face."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The words from May weigh heavy on her. Peggy is silent several moments, staring over her friend and colleague. "...I know." Is all she utters in turn. It's the sort of knowing which has accepted that she considers herself already damned, "You don't need to do it. I would too. But... I know." With that, she gazes away and sets down her fork. So much fo a morning appetite.

Fortunately, Clint and Daisy save them from more heavy considerations by being simply that ready to go to work. "...Might as well get started. Maybe the breakfast will have cheered him up. Daisy, if you want to go down and see what we're dealing with, be my guest. He damn well hates me by now but that's probably well deserved. If we want him to play ball, I probably shouldn't show my face. I'll stay here with Jemma. You all see...how our guest is doing." Peggy isn't making that an order exactly, but it has the edge of it in her voice. Even on a casual Sunday morning in her own home, she can't relax. "Feel free to bring him a mimosa. Maybe it'll butter him up." She smirks and pours a tall one, handing it off to the team intent on going into the basement.

Vogel has been about three days in the basement now. It's *much* nice than Lance's bathroom. It's been completely cleaned of anything that could be a suicice risk or a weapon (save a blanket and pillow case he might be able to tie together to hang himself MAYBE, but the ceiling are low.) The basement room is completely metal encased with a steel door as it was not just a panic room but a proper 1950s bomb shelter. It made locking him away pretty easy. There's a comfortable full bed down there, a bathroom with a shower, toilet, bit of privacy, 1950s shag carpeting, and even a whole stack of books for him to read. It's practically paradise compared to a bathroom.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"Lets do this ..." Daisy says, a look to Jemma and she smiling faintly. "I am taking top bunker." see? Being a bully already and she's just arrived. She leaves her pack over a corner, reaching to take the mimosa. She might as well be the drinks girl. For now.

As for SHIELD's purpose, she looks at May. "It is not a responsibility for you to bear alone. Never alone." she says, no doubt in her voice, "We are a team." and a family. But everyone already knew how Daisy felt about SHIELD and it's people.

With that said she moves with the others to join the nice Mr. Vogel.

Melinda May has posed:
May takes the mimosa and leads the way to the bunker in the basement. Privately, she feels ridiculous, providing such a drink for the man. But, it's the role. So... She looks to the others. "Wait here," she says briefly. "I'll... butter him up." Or liquor him up, depending on how you look at it.

She pauses by the door for a moment, closing her eyes and concentrating. It's something she figured out at the Swordfish. She has some vague idea of where the man is by how strong his emotions feel to her -- spikes notwithstanding. Still, he shouldn't be expecting her return a scant ten or fifteen minutes after she brought him a plate full of bacon, eggs, and other remarkably good breakfast foods on a paper plate. Sure, he only got a plastic spoon and a disposable cup of water, but hey... she's got the mimosa, now.

She schools her features into the impassive, Vulcan face she had when they first met. It's what he expects from her. Then, she swings the door open and steps in to face him.

"Mr. Vogel," she greets, the orange juice and champagne in her hand. "How is your breakfast?"

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint gives May about two minutes before walking into the room and looking at Vogel with a neutral expression. "Ah, Mr. Vogel. I hope you're finding your current situation... acceptable. I realize it's nothing like you are used to, but given the situation, you have to realize it's a good deal better than it could be." He quirks one corner of his mouth upward, "I understand you were not pleased with your previous accommodations in a bathroom, I would think this an improvement."

He leans against the wall and looks over at the HYDRA bigwig, waiting to see what sort of reception he gets so he knows what tack to take with the man.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Good cop. Here with a treat. Vogel's seen enough cop shows to know that Peggy is bad cop and May is good cop. He may not ever have had much of an interest in the militant side of HYDRA but he knew their tactics. The mimosa, though, that was a new touch. The man is clean, though unshaven as razer blades aren't an item they were willing to put near him.

    Scratching his growing beard as he sits at the table. A book open in his left hand titled 'Never be lied to again', a book about deception, psychology, and self-help. He places a book mark he found in to the page he's at and closes it as he considers May's stoic expression.

    How is Vogel? Agitated that he's still a prisoner. "It's the 28th isn't it?," he asks as he sniffs the mimosa. Paranoid. Why does he care about the date? his eyes travel over the agents as if reading the pain and hurt they've just experienced. "What was it? did they kill some of your friends. I warned you HYDRA has claws... you should have listened to me. It'll only get worse from here. I keep telling you - I can help."

    The man looks calmer than he feels.. there's a touch of desperation coming from him too, especially when he realises who he's talking to. He points to Daisy and asks Clint, "Is she an Avengers now? because, I've got tell you, I always thought she was Avenger material. She has super powers after all. You shoot arrows. How is that working out for you? big fan by the way."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Upstairs, the quiet sound of dishes being put away and food cleaned up can be heard a few seconds, but disappears with the door being shut. Peggy's remaining above with Jemma, having quiet discussion about the next steps for safehouses and what pieces of equipment they could use. The 'bad cop' isn't being sent for him right now. Maybe other parts of SHIELD are telling her to back off?

Melinda May has posed:
May takes those two minutes Clint gives her to give Vogel his 'treat'. Then, Clint is barging in and making his manly presence known. May steps discretely to the side, but -- particularly as Vogel so easily identifies both the archer and Daisy -- gives the Avenger a faintly irritated look. The hurt pride of a middle-aged woman who's just been stepped on by a bold, younger man.

It's all for show, of course. For Vogel's benefit. And it's subtle enough that the other agents shouldn't feel compelled to react to it.

She can sense the man's agitation and his desperation. That he's asking after the date further tells her he was very likely expecting what happened to them. So... in addition to the faint irritation at Clint, she lets some of Vogel's aggitation reflect in her face and in the way she shifts restlessly.

Mirroring is often a very helpful technique.

Clint Barton has posed:
Cool eyes examine Vogel for a minute, then he nods, "Oh, no doubt HYDRA has plans within plans. They always do, after all. And the fact that you say you can help is exactly why I'm here. We're aware you are fairly high up in the HYDRA ranks, and probably have a lot of useful info." He tilts his head slightly, then adds, "Probably more info than Schmidt and Whitehall think you have, don't you? You strike me as the kind of man who would make sure to learn more than others wanted him to, just for insurance."

He gives a slight shrug, "They were good enough for Loki, they're good enough for most everything that gets in my way. And always nice to meet a fan. I'd offer an autograph, but that's really not what we're here for."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Vogel steeples his fingers and says, "I see. You've got my number then Mr. Hawkeye." He smiles and asks, "What are we really here for then? Hm? there's been a change of management. Better digs.. and now you, a bonified hero who saved the world from an alien invasion."

    "I get you aren't big on due process in SHIELD. You're so much like HYDRA it is blowing my mind. Truly, spectacular, how similar you are. Almost like that was the plan all along.." He smiles and leans forward, "So tell me, what is it you truly desire hm? tell me it's world peace and I will agree with you, but we might need to hash out the details. I've been working on that game a lot longer than you."

Melinda May has posed:
May steps back merely watching the two men. She absorbs the emotions from both of them, keeps most of it off her face, and keeps up the subtle act of mirroring Vogel in opposition to Clint.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint nods, "Well, the previous agents may not have fully realized your value, Mr. Vogel. I mean really, a bathroom? Hardly appropriate, I think you agree. And hero has nothing to do with it, it's the fact that I'm a senior agent that has me here talking to you. After all, if we're to come to any agreements, it has to be with someone who has the ability to honor them."

A bit of a flat look after the man's second statement, however. "You'll excuse me if I don't see it in quite the same light. From where I stand, we're rather different. Yes, perhaps there is a certain.. looseness in some of the rules, but we still have people we answer to. HYDRA does whatever they like no matter who gets hurt. And Mr. Vogel, I must believe that world peace would put you out of a job.

"However, I do think that we can probably come to some arrangement. And that is why I came to meet you. We'll be talking more over the next few days. Today was just for introductions. I'd like you to think about the things you know that can help us, and about what sort of things you'd like in return."

"But understand, you are going to be here until we've been able to put your information to use. That will not be changing. But there may be things we can do to make you more comfortable, and things you might want after we can let you out. So give it some thought, and I will be back to speak with you tomorrow."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Rubbing his chin for a moment he considers Clint's words. "I'll give you that. I'd take your word over Miss fake friend over here or Miss angry British upstairs," he says with a smirk of institutionalised sexism. "But there's only so much I'm willing to do to help you as your prisoner. I know it's going to take some work, but you'll have to trust me. I don't really care much for the way HYDRA does things - never have. If you think SHIELD is a better bet, well I agree with you."

    "So I'll let you know right now, you and I, we can be business partners in this venture. You get me back to my wife and kids and I'll be your man," he says opening his arms in a classic gesture of hospitality. "I already told your team how to find out what game the others in HYDRA are playing. Taking them down, well, you're going to need me back on the inside. The longer you keep me here, the harder that's going to be."

    He smirks. The smirk of a man who knows he's right. The longer he's off the board the less likely the others in HYDRA are to allow him back to a seat at the table, "So you go think things through too.. and we will speak tomorrow." He picks up his book, then takes a sip of the mimosa and salutes with it to May.

Clint Barton has posed:
With a nod, Clint turns to leave the room, "Until tomorrow then, Mr. Vogel. Have a good evening, and think about what I said. I assure you, I'll be thinking about what you had to say as well." He gestures for May to collect the mimosa glass and then for she and Daisy to follow him out and head back upstairs.

Once back in the main part of the house, he shakes his head. "That man makes me want to vomit. Sorry for making you sound like an underling May. I need to discuss things with you, Bobbi and Agent Carter."