7561/Eating Like Birds

Eating Like Birds
Date of Scene:	26 August 2021
Location:	Food Court: Triskelion
Synopsis:	A chance meeting in the SHIELD canteen! The Red Sentinel meets the Witchblade.
Cast of Characters:	Michael Erickson, Sara Pezzini

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Michael Erickson has posed:
    One assumes that, like any other government agency, SHIELD's food court is stocked by government contractors - which can swing from anything from delicious to deplorable, truth be told. One also assumes that...well. That it's digestible. Today is Burger Day, and the man calling himself Michael Erickson - that's the name on the visitor badge hanging from the lanyard around his neck, anyway - has...apparently decided to indulge. On his metal tray there are four or five burgers neatly stacked, and another is in his hand being munched upon whilst a heap of french fries and several glasses of milk sit on the table nearby. Well. That's...that's a Hell of a calorie load.

    But he munches all the same, seemingly oblivious to the looks given him by passing staff, as he's watching something on the phone he's set up on his table with a little kickstand built into his case. Rapt. So rapt. Munching.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Wearing an older suit that still looks good on her, a tan jacket, black pants and white button front shirt, Sara makes her way into the food court with an ipad in one hand, and an empty coffee cup on the other. She is looking at the ipad as she walks, yet some how manages not to walk into anything or anyone, the skills of the New York City Detective are showing.

After a few moments she realizes that she has made it to her goal, then looks up and around. It was burger day, which was actually one of the food days actually worth coming to the food court for, which is why there is a line that she places herself into. The ipad gets turned off and slide into the inner pocket of her jacket, which is when the holstered revolver becomes visible for a moment.

"Do they have the swiss burger today?" she asks the person in line in front of her, who nods in response. "Yes! I'm here in time."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Swiss burgers, /yes/. With actual button mushrooms. And gravy! Well, if you want it. Pezzini's lucky that he hasn't eaten them all, given his stack. Munching still, he stares at the screen - though the sound of an unfamiliar voice (or at least a new one among the many) lifts his eyes from whatever's playing on the phone for at least a moment or two. Huh. The lady is taken in, pale olive, long dark hair. The easy grave with which she moves. She must be an agent, or something like it. He watches her a moment before going back to his lunch, not wanting to stare. Because pretty as she might be, that's creepy.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
The other problem with a food court serving something everyone wants, is a complete lack of places to sit. Sara didn't really know that many of the people around, in fact she didn't know any of them. Her time with SHIELD has been interesting. Joining right before everything went to hell, then the agents getting trapped in the Framework. She did her part all the same, she kept the pets fed, plants watered, mail collected, and everything kept clean... it was all she could do, she was a Rookie. That had changed afterwards of course, but it still did not solve the problem today.

Collecting her favorite burger, and getting coffee in her cup, she now looked around for an empty table, or one with someone who might not mind a stranger sitting with them. Her eyes flit from table to table until they land on the one Michael is sitting at. In the back of her mind, she recalls having seen him at the home coming, albeit briefly, so she walks toward his table and pauses a short distance off.

"Uh, I don't mean to be forward," she starts with a smile. "But there's not really many places to sit, may I join you?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Mmmm?" He looks up again, mouth full of burger. Bit of gravy on his chin. Blandly handsome, eyes like sapphire chips. Chewing. There's a bit of a pause before he answers, then, in the form of a nod and a sweep of his hand to the spot opposite him at his table. 'Help yourself', that's the gist of it.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Pulling out the chair across from him with her foot, Sara sets her plate and coffee down then sits.

"Thanks," she offers, taking only a moment to look him over, memorize his face and eyes, and then she looks back to the burger. Several napkins are pulled from her jacket pocket, one goes on her lap, the others remain beside her plate.

So as not to be rude however, once the napkins are in place she waits for him to not be chewing, then offers her hand with a polite "Agent Sara Pezzini, nice to meet you."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He takes a moment to swallow and snatch up a napkin of his own, wiping his face and hands - offering the woman a smile now that she speaks, a shift from the intent, stony expression he'd had just a moment before. "Michael Erickson," he offers in a warm baritone voice, "Nice to meet you, Agent. I'm just here as a consultant. How are you?" He takes her hand, then, now that his is clean, and gives it a firm shake - his hands are warm, perhaps from the burger. But some folks are just like that, too.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara's shake is firm and to the point, the shake of someone who does it a lot in life, like every time she meets someone while working, and that's a lot of people in New York for a cop. Taking her hand back, she rests her wrists against the edge of table, proper way of sitting, no elbows on the table Mable.

"I'm doing good, thanks for asking," she offers with a smile, taking a moment to begin memorizing his voice. "What sort of consultant? I've worked with Dr. Banner once, as a consultant, but I have no idea what he was consulting on."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Michael considers her a moment, then shrugs. "You'd call them aliens," Michael says, shrugging. Goes back to taking a bite of his food, chewing. Keeps his gaze on her to read her reaction.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
A soft 'Hmmm' is offered, a slight shrug of her shoulders, and Sara takes a bite of her burger. While chewing a napkin is taken to wipe her lips and chin, and only when she has swallowed does she speak.

"Why would I call them aliens, and you wouldn't?" She asks plainly, clearly not having an issue with the concept of aliens existing, but curious about the wording.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He shrugs, taking another bite. "Well," he says, "I think it's an odd term, personally. Considering we have godlike beings and mutants and all that sort of thing living on the planet, alien from baseline humanity but native to this world, calling otherworldly creatures 'aliens' seems a needless term." Michael's brows arch. "What about yourself? What's your specialty?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Another bite was taken while he spoke, so that it was chewed by the time he finished. She refuses to talk with food in her mouth.

Sara takes a sip of her coffee then says, "Anything that is unknown is alien. That is the true meaning of the word, it has nothing to with where they are from or not from, and everything to do with not knowing them. I could say that water skiiing is alien to me because I have never done it and know nothing about it. You put too much importance on the word really. So if they aren't alien, or aliens, what are they?"

Another sip of coffee and she adds, "My specialty is still classified, as far as I know. I'm a field Agent, a New York City detective, and good with any kind of hand held weapon, but beyond that I don't know if I'm permitted to say, I don't know your security clearance."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Just level one, I'm afraid." He flickers a smile. "I don't know. It's just one big community out there, after all. No different from the nations here on Earth - just the scale's different. Well, and the anatomy on many occasions, but still." A faint grin lines his lips as he says it. "Anyway. I'm new here. I'm still trying to figure out what's what and who's who and what you can say to who and all that sort of thing."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara was just about to take another bite but she stopped, holding the burger above the plate as her head cants ever so slightly.

"Mr. Erickson, are you by chance not from Earth?" She asks, because that would explain a great deal, including his dislike of the word alien. "It's fine if you aren't, it changes nothing, because you're right. Superman, J'onn J'onzz, and few other's out there aren't from Earth, but they're welcome here. If you can't answer that, it's alright. I tend to be too good at my job."

She considers now his initial question, about her specialty. In all honesty, she had no idea if SHIELD was even remotely interested in keeping it a secret or not. For that matter, her work with the Avengers would put her in the public eye and there was no secrets from the public in that regard, they had ways of learning things.

"I'm the wielder of Witchblade," she finally offered, deciding it just wasn't worth all the mystery and he'd likely find out anyway.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    For a moment, he looks as though he might have something to say - but then she mentions some new object and he shifts over to that topic. "The Witchblade," Michael comments, going to take another bite. "What's that? Sounds spooky."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara chuckles quietly, noting how he completely ignored her questions, but that's what she expected really.

"Not really spooky," she then says, sitting back a little in the chair. "It's a magical artifact, far older than most out there, created by two primordial entities, or gods as some call them. He has had hundreds of wielders through the years, and I am the current one. I could show you more, but not here. My clothing ends up shredded when I use it."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Oh, jeez." He laughs, running a hand through his hair. Well, the one that doesn't have the burger in it. "Probably best to skip the private show, then. Hate to see you lose a suit just showing off." It's said with humor, mind. Grinning. "Sounds like a major responsibility. SHIELD certainly has a very interesting mixture of people on board." He considers. "Well, I am what has been known as the Red Sentinel. I've been working for the public good for a long time in battle armor, been on...oh, thirty years now or so. Since 1990, I think?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara laughs quietly with a nod.

"When I have to call on Witchblade in an emergency, I lose the suit. If I know I'm going to need to use Witchblade, I take the suit off then call him. Saves on clothing, which I really should talk about some kind of clothing allowance with SHIELD." She grins, clearly joking about that the allowance.

"Red Sentinel, I don't believe I've heard that name before, but then up until recently I was pretty much on my own. SHEILD needs more people, all the people, because things are getting more and more chaotic out there. Also," she then adds, "If you would like to see the Witchblade, I can offer you a private show. That's what SHEILD issue sweats are for, well that an exercise."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I think I'd just wait until we got to into the field." He takes another bite of his burger, chewing and swallowing before continuing. "No idea what that's about. My armor manifests via dimensional conduit. You'd think a god would do the same." A beat. "You sure you're just not getting a dirty joke played on you from another reality?"

    I mean. It wouldn't be the strangest thing.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
This time Sara busts up laughing, falling back against the chair, all out laughter. Reaching up she has to wipe her eye even, cause a laugh-tear formed in the corner of her eyes.

"Oh Mister Erickson," she manages to say. "You really have no idea. It's a huge practical joke all right, but not in the way you think. The Witchblade represents balance, it is a physical artifact, living and sentient, a child of The Darkness and Angelus. He chooses the wielder, they do not get a choice." She finally manages to get control of her laughter, still smiling rather broadly. "Thing is, I was dying when Witchblade chose me and saved my life. So on one hand I was grateful not to be dead, but on the other I suddenly had this huge responsibility. That was.. two years ago? I've clearly come to terms with it now."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Well maybe, but surely, the clothes..." He waves a hand about her. "That just seems weird. Well, anyway." He gestures vaguely at her, putting the sandwich aside. "Anyway. Sounds spooky enough to me. So what do you fight with a thing like that? Minotaurs and beasties?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
One more bite was taken from the burger, and that may have been too much. Sara finished it, then has to slide the remainder of the burger away. She'll take it with her, eat more later, but for now... uhhh.

Wiping her mouth off she says, "Denizens of pure evil, from the many hells and heavens for that matter. The purpose is to maintain balance for mankind, to keep those things out of this realm that aren't meant to be here.... and Mintaurs and beasties."

A playful smile dances across her face and then she takes a sip of her coffee. "What is the purpose of Red Sentinel?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Minotaurs and beasties," he affirms with a nod. "Right then. I just do whatever needs doing, really. I've fought terrorists, thieves, bad guys you know...fixed the Lincoln Tunnel the other week with the Vision when it sprang a leak. You know. General good." Michael reaches for one of the several glasses of milk and drains a good portion of it - it really is a /lot/ of food. "Not quite so specialized. If it needs punching, I come out from time to time to make it happen."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
She nods, accepting that there isn't a specific purpose.

"You do good, that's what matters then," she offers, then finishes off her coffee. "That's really what I use Witchblade for, though sometimes he gets pissy about it, and then I get three nights in a row of dreams reminding me the purpose."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "That's really all that matters," he says with a faint smile. "But you know, the machine isn't the master - or device, or relic, whatever. We are not slaves to it. If it's intelligent, of course, then I suppose it needs to be a partnership, but you're the one driving, yeah?" His brows arch. "They ride, we take the risks. Especially you, if your story about there being a bunch of hosts and not having any choice in the matter is any indication." Michael grunts and goes to finish his burger. "Seriously. If two intelligent parties are involved there can be no master or servant. Or if there has to be, you better be damned sure it's you who's in charge."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Taking a few of the napkins, she wraps the paper plate in them. It won't preserve the burger, but it will at least keep it covered for now.

"It's a partnership," she agrees, sort of. "Only certain women are able to be a host, I don't know the criteria, I just know that I apparently match it. The only hesitation on my part was from the fact that I had no idea magic was real, or that there were any real 'heroes' other than those from the Justice League and Avengers. I knew about mutants of course, and Inhumans, but that's about the extent until that day."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't have to be a slave to that which helps you do good." He shrugs. "That's not heroism, that's being used. And you deserve better."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara's head cants slightly, and she crosses one leg over the other.

"I wouldn't say I'm a slave to it, but I am driven to see justice done, even before Witchblade," she hmms, watching him. "Why do you say I deserve better? What do you really know about me?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "You breathe, you fight, you live." He shrugs. "That's all you need, right? You're a person. People don't deserve slavery."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
She ahhs softly, then nods.

"I misunderstood what you meant, of course no one deserves slavery," Sara comments. "I'm not a slave. I have a purpose, really I was born to the purpose, it's as simple as that. Some people are born mutants, I was born to wield Witchblade, it's not that much different."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "If you say so." He reaches for another burger, unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Mmm. Just make sure, you know, that you're not getting the raw end of it all, you know? Life's too short."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Not particular fond of this turn in the conversation, Sara adjusts herself in the chair, leaning more forward.

"Listen, I use Witchblade to fight crime," she starts out. "I control him, and he protects me from danger, sometimes before I even know it's there. If I thought for a minute I was being used, you can bet your sweet ass that this bracelet would be back on the shelf in the museum where it was." She sits back again. "Actually no, I couldn't do that... because I know there are others out there who want him, and not to use his abilities the way they are meant to be used. There are some who would pervert the powers of the Witchblade in ways that would be dangerous for the world, so really... as I said, it's a mutual thing now."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    His brows arch a tad more. "Well, I said okay," he points out. "But you didn't present it like that previously. It was all 'he gets mad and gives me nightmares' and 'I don't have a choice.'" Michael shrugs, then, and makes to take another bite. "I didn't mean any offense."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
For a moment Sara has an expression that clearly reads, 'Well you did it again Pezzini' then she clears her throat.

"I'm sorry," she offers then. "Its hard to explain Witchblade, and sometimes I use the wrong terms, and then I get defensive. Please forgive me, you didn't really offend me, I failed to explain it accurately."

She offers him a bit of a sheepish smile, "I'm a hot headed Italian, but I am sorry."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He gives her a quiet smile. "I didn't take offense," Michael says with a wave of a hand. "Really. Just wanted to point it out." He smacks his lips, now, and waves the burger in his hands a bit. "These are stupid good. Where the Hell do they get this contractor? I've been at other government offices, they aren't like this, you know?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara glances toward the concession, the line much shorter now, then she looks back over at Michael.

"I honestly don't know," she says with a sigh. "I'd really like to know, because the mushroom swiss burgers are the best I can find anywhere in New York. Though I will tell you, if you want the best milkshakes in New York, you have to go to Bushwick, to Mootant Milkshakes. They are to die for."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I try and stay in my own patch," Michael says with a chuckle, taking another bite of burger - pausing, then letting out a sigh as he swallows another morsel. "I live over in Murray Hill. Too much of a trek out to Bushwick for a sandwich, but I'll keep it in mind."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Both brows lift to her hairline, then Sara just nods.

"Alright, if that's how you go about it, your choice. I presently live in Brooklyn, but that might be changing soon. I work downtown, and here, and where ever SHIELD and the Avengers go, I guess I'm just used to traveling around."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "What?" His brows arch in return, chewing and swallowing another bite. "Do you usually drive into Manhattan for food? I'm not saying it's a bad choice, just saying I don't see myself going out all that way for it."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara chuckles, "Yeah, if I'm craving sushi, I'll go into Manhattan to Sushi Yasuda because it's the best. Sometimes, when it's the best, you take the drive... well I do."

Flagging someone down, she sets her coffee cup to have more poured, because she runs on caffeine and her intake is still low. "And sometimes, if I'm out that way, I'll stop in because I'm out there. Not saying you should, or have to, just saying it might be worth it if you're in the area."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Sure sure." He nods, going back to his sandwich. "I got you." Michael pauses a moment, then chuckles. "I'm not, you know."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara thanks the person for the coffee, then adds a hint of sugar and a little cream, before stirring. While stirring she again watches him, not staring, but she has his face and voice memorized now, so it was time to just really look at him.

"You're not... what?" She finally asks, then takes a sip of her coffee. She has no idea where that came from or what it was about.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "A huge jackass." He laughs, rubbing at his brow. "I'm bad with people sometimes. Especially women. Like totally different species sometimes, that's all. I hope I'm not making this a bad time for ya."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
One blink and she oooohs softly.

"I wasn't thinking you were a jackass," Sara says quietly with a smile. "I was thinking I fucked up some how in my wording, and no... if I was having a bad time, I'd get up and leave, and not order a second cup of coffee."

She taps the spoon on the edge of the cup, then sets it on a napkin. "Why do you think you're bad with people? And why especially women? If that's too personal, feel free to ignore it like you did my other questions." She wiggles her brows, then takes a sip of her coffee, she knew she'd find a way to get back around to that.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "It's a good question." Michael shrugs, rubbing at his chin. "I mean, just don't get people sometimes, that's all. You'd thing as long as I've been around, I'd already..." He pauses, chuckling at her one point. "I'm not ignoring your questions to be rude. I'm sorry. I just don't know what clearances are what, that's all."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara ahs softly with a nod, "Okay, that's enough of an answer. If it requires clearance to know, then clearly it's more than meets the eye." It was lovely to speak in code, hopefully he would get it. "My clearance level is four, just so you know."

"Time doesn't make a someone understand something better, only experience does that. You could have been around for like a thousand years, and because of how things change constantly, including how people act, it doesn't mean you'd understand it any more than you do now. You just need more time around people, eventually you'll get there."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Well." He chuckles faintly. "I dunno what's what. Let's just say I'm not from around here, and make it quietly obvious, all right?" He gestures to the stack of cooling burgers. "But yes. I'm here to help punch aliens and early things. I've been in New York for...what. Well, since 1975. Which makes me feel like I'm ancient but what are you gonna do?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
The way Sara looks at him doesn't change, knowing that she was right changed nothing, well except maybe that she was being impressed at how handsome he was. Should it have changed anything? In her mind, no. She knew there were people out there who would have issues with someone from another planet, sure they were okay saving the Earth over and over again, but as people you talk to? Ew. She hated people like that, just like she hated those people out there who hated on Mutants and Inhumans just because they were different.

"Alright, we'll settle on that, and come one... you aren't ancient, just old." A smile plays on her face again, her eyes sparkling playfully. "But you're probably long lived, so you'll be like five hundred and still looking thirty."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Nah, I'll be dead before that." He grins. "I'll be around for maybe another seventy, eighty years. I only get so much of an extension." Michael brushes at his shirt, now, and takes out a paper bag from under his chair into which he starts loading the rest of his lunch. Well, short of the milk, that is. "You're kind to say, though."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara smiles brightly, "Any time. Old but handsome, how's that for you?"

She takes another drink of her coffee, then checks her watch. "Oh boy, almost out of lunch time..." Setting the cup down, she fishes into her pocket and removes one of her business cards. These are for the NYPD, but they have her work and cell number on them, so she slides it across the table toward him.

"If you'd ever like to just hang out, maybe get a little more experience with people, give me a call. I'm not trying to pick up on you or anything, but I think we could be friends. You can be unable to understand people, and I'll be a hot tempered Italian, and hopefully neither of us will burn something down."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Blandly handsome," he points out. "By design. My family's always been good at blending in." He smiles as she slides his card over, and reaches into his jacket to slide over his own. "Sure. That's my contact information, too. Give me a shout sometimes, all right?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara collects the card, then from her pocket pulls a small case that she slides the card into as she says, "I'll do that."

As she stands she puts the case back in her pocket, then collects the plate and coffee cup. "I have to get back to work, reports to write, criminal to bust. Maybe we'll get to work together some time."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Sure, no problem." He gives her a last salute and lets her head off as he stands there, bag of burgers in hand, and drinks those glasses of milk.

    Hope he's getting his exercise...