7756/Coffee and Weaponry

Coffee and Weaponry
Date of Scene:	09 September 2021
Location:	Empire Diner
Synopsis:	News from other parts of the Galaxy arrives via Michael Erickson and Jessica gets dessert.
Cast of Characters:	Michael Erickson, Jessica Drew

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Michael Erickson has posed:
    He's eating pizza at the Empire Diner.

    He really shouldn't be allowed back in, considering what happened last time he was here - but he is hard to fit in people's mental picture, handsome but forgettable, and it /has/ been some time. ^So Michael sits quietly at a booth along the windows that line the front of the diner, having some good old-fashioned giant slice folded up to get a proper bite on, and waits for the guest of honor to arrive.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Turnover in restaurants is such that Jessica has no concerns about being recognized. Nor, does she feel particularly responsible for the last piece of mayhem that caused the diner to close down for several days for repairs. Gone are the days when people stayed in their jobs for years and years. She savors the anonymity of the city especially when meeting with Erickson.

"What did you order, Michael?" Jessica slips into the booth opposite Michael. "I had no idea they did pizza here. I thought I might do an American classic and have a chicken salad sandwich. They're quite good here."

Without consulting the menu, she orders her food from the server, tacking on a hot tea. "How are you?" She asks, once the young man has left.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "They don't," Michael says somewhat grumpily as the server walks away - he points to the single slice left and shrugs. "I used to get great pizza here before gentrification. Now it's all kale juice and fruit salad and whatever." He sniffs. "Good steak, though. Gonna have one when I polish this off. Now they used to do a pie in '83..." He draws a deep breath, smiling. "Sorry. I'm all right. Got a lot of bookkeeping to deal with at home. How are you?"

    He takes another bite of the pizza slice, frowns, and puts it aside. "Sorry. It's cold, now. S'what I get for bringing my own stuff in, I guess." Gestures to the server, half-standing to get his attention before sitting back down. "Anyway. What did I say again?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
"That you are distracted. Used to eat here before I was born and are going to eat steak." Jessica makes a face at him. "Doesn't seem like kale juice to me."

She gives the server a pleasant nod when he brings her the tea. "Oh, and are dealing with accountants. My sympathies. You /have/ been going through a lot lately. Business alright?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I'm /hungry/." He laughs faintly, but nods, pausing to make an order for the strip steak, rare, and /no peppercorn sauce/. Mushroom sauce, however, are requested, as well as a local IPA. As the waiter eparts, he turns back to Jessica and shrugs. "I'm an old man," he tells her. "I feel patterns setting in sometimes. Get grumpy when they change. Hell, I've been on this planet longer than I ever was in the Empire." He pauses to take a small hexagonal device out of his pocket, about the size of a Zippo lighter, made of a dull black metal. Small red light blinking away. "Sorry. Silence-field generator. We'll just sound like we're indistinct until someone walks right up to the table. Brought it from home."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Biting the inside of her lips, Jessica tilts her head slightly acknowledging the silence-field generator like it was an everyday occurrence. "Something you'd be willing to share, Mr. Erickson?"

A faint smile tilts the side of her mouth as she lets that question ride in silence between them. "We all like everyday routines. Or some of us do. You're a lot older than I am," she teases deadpan. Then, on the spur of the moment adds, "Do you enjoy being on Earth now?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Maybe," he says, looking down at the device. "I don't know. I don't feel like sharing much of anything with SHIELD's technical division if Agent Lewis's attitude is any indication." Looks back up at her. "I /am/ older than you. I'm seventy-one, had my birthday a couple weeks ago. I'll be around for another seventy or so, probably." He shrugs. "You can call me Michael, you know. Or Cal. I really don't need to be called 'Mister Erickson' if we're going to work together."

    He pauses to pick up the glass of soda he'd been drinking with his pizza (bought here, and what let him stay here till she arrived.) "I do. I mean I don't understand everything that motivates humans, but that's just a difference in species. But I wouldn't step up if I didn't, right?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
"I don't know," Jess answers with wide-eyed innocence. "I mean, you could be gaming us right?" Smiling now, she leans back in the booth, "I suppose I meant all of that. Adjusting to a new country is hard enough for humans, much less a new planet. Much less one you were sent to watch with suspicion." Hand held up to stop him, "I know, you came for the Kree until we got interesting."

She takes an experimental sip of tea then removes the teabag from the cup with a sigh, "I wish they knew how to serve tea." After another sip, "Then we got sufficiently interesting enough for you to help us. I don't mean to sound reductive."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I've been living in this city since 'seventy five," he says, shrugging. "And yes. You wanna blame someone for that, blame the king of Latveria. When he rolled in here in 'Ninety and the Richards clan booted him out, that's when the Empire really started looking at this planet." He makes a faint face, then, and waves a hand as if to brush her words away. "Hey, look, I didn't decide to help because you were 'interesting'. I did it because it was right."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Lips pouched into a moue of disappointment, Jesica peers owlishly over her cup of tea. "See? The King of Latveria hardly qualifies as standard human. We are not interesting as a whole."

Two plates are brought to the table which stops Jessica from any further observations. She picks up a fry and bites it in half before reaching for the mustard.

"I sound ungrateful. Thank you for doing the right thing." She adds, "Michael," experimentally then picks up her sandwich. "Enjoy your food."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Maybe not to the Empire," he says, still carrying that faintly pinched expression, "But I've lived here more than long enough to come to like you people. You're spirited, flexible, passionate..." Michael reaches for his soda again. "I mean there are other species like yours, but the only thing that kept their interest withheld was distance and technological development. I mean I get that, to a point, but that's just a combination of inconvenience and elitist bullshit. You people are great."

    But he smiles just a bit. "And thank you. Look, I know this...alien thing. It's rough. I feel like every time I open my mouth about my life before coming here it's like living a science fiction novel. But I'm...you know. I am what I am, right? Which is from another galaxy."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Well, who knew?" She shares his smile. "Elitist bullshit is not limited to just this Galaxy. Would you believe it?"

Jess takes a healthy bite of her sandwich, chewing it with relish before holding it up, "You should try this sometime, if you eat chicken. They actually cook it and bone it here instead of buying pre-cooked chicken breasts or using canned meat. Real food. Bad tea. Maybe, I can suggest tea pots and tea strainers to them and they would have me here almost every day."

Mouth twisted to one side, she looks intently at Michael, "I don't think of you as alien. Odd, isn't it. When you're more alien than I am. And, I'm not exactly, run of the mill."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "It's worse," Michael says with a grunt. "I'm actually nobility. Minor family, but the family's the family." Tipping back a swallow of soda, he returns the glass to the table and tucks his fist under his chin. "And no, thank you though. I don't eat birds. I..." He laughs. "We're descended from birds, you know. My people. Used to have wings, even. Some still do. See? I'm an alien. You're...what? Human mutation? Genetically engineered?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jessica's mouth puckers into a wry smile. She looks at her sandwich and then at Michael. "You could have said something, you know. I feel very strange now about eating this. I hope you don't mind." After a sip of tea, she picks up the sandwich and takes an experimental bite then puts it down.

"I wonder how I would feel if there was such a thing as spiders on the menu?" Shaking her head in wonder, she then speaks quickly as though trying to get through the answer as quickly as possible and move on to other subjects.

"I'm human stock so, you know, on the primate evolutionary branch but I was experimented on as a child - a DNA splicing experiment with a special type of spider." She nods several times quickly acknowledging how shocking that may sound. "Recently, I was a exposed to a Kree mutagen and survived. So whatever that makes me."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Another laugh escapes the man. "No, no," Michael says, "It doesn't bother me remotely. I've eaten monkeys, you know." He lifts a shoulder in a shrug, highly amused - until Jessica keeps talking, and his smile vanishes. "Well," he says, "Shit. I'm sorry that happened to you, Jessica. It sounds like it couldn't have been pleasant. And...Kree mutagen, you say?" His brows climb high. "That's new to me."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"I have seriously contemplated being a vegetarian. Meat seems less and less important to my diet. I feel lighter and better when eating a high proportion of vegetables, too. Well, habits are hard to break but..." Jess pushes her plate away.

With an exaggerated shudder, "Monkey, huh? Um. How did that taste?"

Holding her tea in both hands as though to warm them, she looks away then back at him. "No need to be sorry. My parents were seriously misled and probably shouldn't have had a child. It's done. They are no longer alive and I have a good life." Leaning forward, she looks at him intently, "Are there more than one? Terrigen is what we call it."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "My metabolism is extremely high thanks to the genetic therapy I was given before being sent here," he explains. "So I eat a lot of meat to keep calories up. I'm an old man already, but I'll be much older still before I show it." He gives her a weak smile. "Outlived my parents. At least they weren't around to suffer any predations the Majestor might have meant for them as the parents of a traitor."

    He pauses, then, and his brows lift once more. "And as for the Kree, no, I haven't heard about it. You'll have to tell me -- ah, that reminds me, you probably don't know. The Majestor has been deposed. Majestrix Lilandra rules, now, and she's not against humanity. I think my people will be leaving this planet alone as a greater government, but I have no doubt that parties beholden to the Majestor or seeking revenge against humans for giving the Empire a bloody nose might still end up with designs against this world."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Wow. I didn't know. Sometimes agents of my level are not privy to news of that kind. Wow," she muses aloud again. "You could go home now, couldn't you? Or would it still be risky?"

Tapping the side of her tea cup, she gazes at Michael while speculating aloud. "Do you know the Majestrix? Lilandra, you say? I imagine that SHIELD has been fully briefed on this change and the likelihood of some fringe groups wanting to revenge themselves on Earth, right?"

After a pause, she adds, "It sounds like China, you know. Taking revenge on a family for their offspring's politics."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "We are an angry people when wronged," Michael says, his lips flttening into a line. "And yes, you met the Majestrix yourself - do you remember the armored woman who met us after Black Cloak was killed at the Xavier mansion? That was her." He shakes his head. "After my time, but she's a princess of the blood. Sister of the deposed Majestor - and her sister, of course...." Michael shaes his head. "She's crazy. A rebel to the Throne, but an awful creature. She came here once, you know, bringing an alien strain with her called the Brood that threatened to consume all life on this planet. The Xavier students, however, put an end to that before it could begin. They're also involved with the Majestor's deposing."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Eyebrows hiked high, Jessica listens with interest to his narrative. "So, that was her. Well, I hardly know her. Does SHIELD know all of this Michael? About the Xavier students and about the new Majestor?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I have no idea," he says with a shrug. "You're my handler, aren't you? And honestly..." Michael takes a deep breath. "Jessica, I'm still having a lot of issues with SHIELD. I don't know. They feel...that whole thing with Agent Lewis really put a bad taste in my mouth. And the way the Chief talked about me. 'This alien'. I don't know, I feel more like a tool to your people than a person."

    Presently his attention turns to his steak, and he begins to dissect it with knife and fork with surgical precision. "I know you guys must think me ridiculous, but we're a proud people. /I'm/ proud. I like most of you people but it really does feel like the moment you say no, the law comes out. And I don't know that I like that."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jessica takes a swift, deep breath at what he tells her. She hides her reaction by concentrating on the fries next to the untouched sandwich, her frown deepening as he recites his reservations about Agent Lewis again. Her eyebrows rise and fall at his mentioning the Chief.

"Yes, I'm your handler and I need to talk to Carter about the attitudes you've described. More importantly, I have to pass on the news you gave me. You understand how important it might be, don't you? Besides, don't repeat me here, Lewis is a jerk. Ignore her."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "She's very intelligent," Michael replies. "That breeds superiority. But whatever reservations I might have about SHIELD, they do not extend to you. I know that you and I can work together. I'll find out what I can about the events surrounding the ascension of the Majestrix and let you know when I do. In the meantime, I will be - among other things - working at the school on a volunteer basis as an educator of galactic politics and the Empire itself."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Lewis?" Lips pressed together in dismissal, Jess shakes her head. "We are all off the charts intelligent, Michael. The selection process is very stringent. They only take the best and the most talented so there is no excuse. None. On the contrary, she should know better than that."

She stops talking to concentrate on her fries for the moment, gesturing with a fry daubed with mustard, "That would be welcome, Michael. We need that information for our own protection. And, I have always treated you the way I would want to be treated." She gives him a quick bright smile, "Even when I didn't trust you." Then finishes off her fry.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Which is why we're sitting here having this conversation," Michael replies with a nod. "And why I didn't walk out. I hope that you feel that I have treated you with similar respect, Jessica." Michael pauses to slash apart his steak and pop a large morsel into his mouth, falling silent.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"I never gave it thought, to be honest. But, I understand. I never felt terribly condescended to," she admits with a hint of mischief glinting in her green eyes. "I mean, all that highly advanced technology beyond our comprehension never smacked of you looking down on us. Much."

She lays both hands to either side of her plate and gazes at him intently, "I'm being flippant. More seriously, thank you. Can I put that on my resume? Good with people from other galaxies?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Yeah, I'm sorry about that." He makes a faint face. "Understand, please, that living on this planet, the technological gap can be...frustrating. It's the equivalent of living on an Amish colony by comparison, sometimes. This is why I'm trying very hard not to judge Agent Lewis too strongly. Because, you know, I get it."

    He smirks, then. "Yes. You are on your way toward earning your intergalactic diplomacy merit badge, I think."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Rolling her eyes, "Great. Now we are Amish. Who, by the way, /choose/ to live the way they do. The rest of us have no excuse. We are simply behind you technologically. Can I plead that some of us only left off being hunter-gatherers around 10,000 years ago?"

She grins and shrugs. "At least, I have a new badge to sew on my sash."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I'm just using them to point out the gap at times," he replies. "I mean nothing by it. Frankly the rapid techonlogical development on this planet the past hundred years or so has been nothing - hell, since I /got/ here - has been nothing less than stand-up admirable. That's another thing that you get with the Empire, you know, with a galactic civilization. Long gaps of stagnation. Take my electron pistol, right? Sure, fantastic raygun, but the technology's been around for a thousand years. We're just polishing something that was earned centuries ago. But with humanity..."

    Michael chuckles, spreading his hands expansively. "Well. From the Nuclear Age to the Information Age in what, thirty years? From a galactic standpoint, that's /tremendous./" Then he leans in a little. "Don't tempt me. I'll have a sash made for you."

Jessica Drew has posed:
The mischief is back. "You just have a penchant for girls in green uniforms and knee socks. I know you, off-worlders now." She looks at her unfinished plate. "I think I want dessert now. Do you like sweets?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "We are terrible people," he replies with a smirk. "Maybe I just like a woman in uniform." He leans back and starts cutting into his steak anew. "Yeah," he says, "But mostly I try not to. Metabolism or not, I can still get crazy fat."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Well, I don't have that worry. Spider genes make for enviable metabolism along with the other perks." She smiles again, shining her fingertips over her jacket sleeve and admiring them. "Ah, do you know that gesture? I'm having a chocolate sundae, I think. Time to let the stops out."