7624/Two World-Savers Walk Into A Bar

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Two World-Savers Walk Into A Bar
Date of Scene: 31 August 2021
Location: Swordfish Bar (SHIELD)
Synopsis: A brief conversation over drinks.
Cast of Characters: Dane Whitman, Natasha Romanoff

Dane Whitman has posed:
The Swordfish Bar has been a little different as of late. For one, it changed hands in the wake of the great cock-up that resulted in the organization splitting in two. Luckily, it's owned by the angels so one can still head there to enjoy a drink from time to time.

Dane Whitman sits at the bar with his chin resting on his hand. A half-completed pint of lager sits at his elbow, the glass sweating in a way that suggests he hasn't touched it in a while. On TV he watches footage from somewhere in Eastern Europe - the City of Krozniev under siege by some sort of robot army.

"Shouldn't you be out there?" the bartender asks Dane, tipping his head towards the screen, "That's what the costumed guys are for, right?"

"It's not a costume, Arn," Dane says airily, a faint smile on his face, "It's armor. And besides, the Avengers had that one."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    "Some of them are costumes." A dry voice butts in, followed shortly by its owner, Natasha Romanoff, helping herself to a nearby bar-stool. "Some of them..." she folds her arms on the bar, "... blur the line." Natasha hasn't been back to this bar in ages, not since some charming misunderstandings instigated by evil clones exiled her to Russia long enough for her to come back just in time for Shield to be outlawed. That's like two layers of false treason in four months! That's impressive.

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Everyone would recognize that suit in a heartbeat," Dane points out, tilting his head towards Natasha and offering her a polite smile, "Even if they have no idea who it is wearing it. But I agree, costumes so ... Halloween-y. Uniform? Supersuit? Power Pants - okay, I admit that last one is silly."

He nevertheless reaches a hand in Natasha's direction, still smiling that polite smile.

"Dane Whitman."

Not that it's much of a secret. He's gained a bit of notoriety both within SHIELD and the press in general as the man with the magic sword and flying horse that inherited his name from a supervillain who was active in the late nineties. The Black Knight.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha regards the offered hand with a blandly polite expression that purposefully does not convey an eighty year old spy's distaste for shaking hands with (relative) strangers from spy organizations.

    She settles for briefly tapping the tip of his extended fingers with hers, and leaves it at that. "Natasha. Pleasure."

    She watches the footage for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she regards the barkeep. "Do I still have a usual around here? It's been a little while."

Dane Whitman has posed:
For all the tumult, Natasha does have a usual and it is slid across the bar and put upon an endless tab that will likely never get paid but probably comes out of Fury's own pocketbook. The joys of being the top spy the agency has to offer.

Despite the rather lukewarm reception, Dane keeps smiling. Fair enough. The Avengers are busy people. He's not the sort to get starstruck, but nor is he the sort to get incensed when people don't know his name.

"You were there, weren't you?" he says, gesturing to the television, "I read the brief. Ultron. Did the people get out okay?"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    "Thank you." Natasha says politely, offering the barkeep a very pretty, very believable smile since he's had to put up with this for years. But a place where you never have to dig out your wallet is rare, and the barkeep still hasn't poisoned her after this long, so the status quo remains.

    Natasha regards Dane as he speaks, and allows herself the time to sip from her glass before setting it down. "... Everyone we found." she answers with a smile that's meant to be reassuring. In fairness, that's about as optimistic as Natasha allows her statements to get when she's not straight up lying to somebody.

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Well, that's good. Glad to hear it."

Dane offers one last encouraging nod of his head before he turns back to the television, picking up his glass and sipping it before he pulls a face.

"Blah - gone warm. I'm not that British."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    "Mmmm." Natasha intoned sympathetically as she takes another sip. "That's the secret, cap." She says with a lower case C, "Nobody's really that British."