7813/From Mother Russia, With Regards

From Mother Russia, With Regards
Date of Scene:	13 September 2021
Location:	Steve Rogers' Apartment
Synopsis:	Wanda and Steve exchange noodles and life advice.
Cast of Characters:	Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff

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Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve doesn't precisely have the deck of his apartment on reserve, but it's not a place other people go. The Captain does need emergency pickups from time to time, and it's one of the few places nearby where a jet or helicopter is rated to land. It's hard to do that and respond to national security issues if there's a garden party going.

So he's up there now, standing near the door. Jeans, boots, tee shirt, lightweight canvas jacket. It's a casual look, made sincere by the scuffs on his boots from honest work. He's standing and staring up at the sky overhead, waiting for a tell-tale sign. When he spots a familiar red arc Steve produces a flashlight from his pocket, a bright one, and flickers it three times to indicate where Wanda should make her approach.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
National security issues interrupting a garden party speaks to priorities in life. It also indicates that even the vaunted Captain Rogers has other interests outside of rescuing civilians, plotting against HYDRA and various enemies, and concerning himself with the wellbeing of the whole world. The man has a private existence without the helmet or the boots, surely.

Though not nearly as high profile in some respects, Wanda still keeps a mild look-past-me spell for the average person drifting below her to avoid being spotted. More the merrier when she bears noodles from a recommended restaurant in Brighton Beach, a few heated cups of creme brulee. The very things for a good evening between friends.

Three flashes to note his whereabouts and she breaks into a smile. Steve isn't average. Then again, none of her teammates are. With the notification flashed on high, she adjusts her position and drops on a long arc to join him. Only her coat gives her away, modified from her usual attire.

"Now here's a sight for sore eyes," she chimes in.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Speak for yourself, I'm easy to find," Steve jokes. He grins at Wanda, offering a hand to help manage the food, and steps into her proximity with a warm one-armed hug. "Good to see you, Wands. You look good. And you're bringing me food, huh?" Steve peers into the bag and sniffs twice, cautiously. "Ramen and creme brulee?" he inquires with a pleased expression. "Either you really missed me or you're buttering me up for something. C'mon." He grins and tilts his head to the door nearby, opening it and holding it politely for Wanda. "Just one floor down, first door on the left," he reminds her, and troops down the stairs with an easy gait.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The auburn-haired witch lands lightly on the rooftop. Her boots impact the ground and momentum shifts forwards instead of down, bringing her into Steve's care and then that hug. Sinking straight in, she holds out the food with the additional assistance from him and returns the embrace in a swirl of pumpkin, spidersilk, and traces of cool water and golden strands. "You flatter me as ever, Captain Rogers, but I won't say I do not enjoy it. Who would not be warmed by such kind truths?" Her smile lifts as she takes him in, a once-over keen for any signs of wear, tear or distress. Old habit, by that point.

"Not ramen, it's far from it. There is a very good restaurant that combines Chinese, Russian, and Turkic culinary influences to make some absolutely amazing noodles. You try them, you will understand why we give up on cooking." Her laughter is soft but brought forth warmly. "The creme brulee is my contribution, though you can claim a full stomach after the noodles. You need to come out to Cafe Kashkar with me. It's an experience, a good one." The beat there underlines expectation. "I'm happy to have a friend to spend the day with, and relax with."

He leads the way and she follows, taking in her surroundings.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"I won't lie, Janet's turned me into a bit of a foodie," Steve confesses. "Don't tell -her- I said that," he adds a beat later. "I cooked for myself for a bit but in a city like this, it's just too easy to get all kinds of exotic food delivered. Beats boiled tubers, I gotta admit."

The door's unlocked so Wanda can head in. Steve's apartment is probably worth a lot more to a realtor's eye than a decorator. It's not that there's a Spartan aesthetic, it's just that Steve doesn't have the ... stuff, that other people have. No impulse purchases, no kitchen gadgets. What he owns is largely well-made, rugged, and everything in his apartment seems to have not just purpose but some importance, too.

He sets the food out on the table and invites Wanda to sit, before fetching plates and cutlery. "So what prompts the visit?" he inquires of Wanda. "Not that it's not nice to see you," he adds, apologetically.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"The way I see it, an appreciation for good is never a bad thing," Wanda agrees. She puts her finger to her lips. Mum's the word - aside from being an actual mother, anyway. "You know we keep the economy moving by favouring all these different restaurants about. We don't need to cook that much, as long as we know how. I don't need to eat more potatoes." It was depression fare for him and she certainly had it in Transia.

She heads into the apartment. Her own place is more a confusion of elegant colours but 'stuff' isn't her nature either. All the important bits can be grabbed at a moment's notice. Magic and instability do not a life of luxury make.

"I'm not allowed to come by and say hi properly?" she asks, a merry smile on her lips. "I like socializing. I also wanted to give you an update on Bucky, given we've been working to improve his mental equilibrium. Hardly the therapist coming to give a proper report, but more to affirm that some of the latent issues buried in his psyche are being slowly worked through."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve grimaces apologetically and pulls a face at Wanda. "I didn't mean-- of course you're welcome by here," he tells her. "I didn't mean it like that. Just not used to people aside from Jan or Bucky 'dropping in', so to speak. Something to drink?" he offers, and heads to the fridge to get something for Wanda.

It's all set at the table in short order and he settles in across from her to portion out the meal and dig into it. "I'm glad he's doing better. I haven't talked to him in, well. A few weeks," Steve admits. "He said he felt like he was better and I guess my read on it was that he needed some space from the, uh you know. The crew." Him. "I still think he oughta get in and see a therapist. No offense, Wands," he says with a lopsided smile of apology. "But someone like Doc Samson could help him work through some of this stuff."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"I'm not upset in the least, promise." The smile warmly lifts. Wanda can be disarming with it when she wants to be, and in a good mental space, she exudes warmth. A troubled world with her at its centre always reflects wider trouble but this time around, she might actually be free from the discontent.

"He needs a proper psychologist. I refer to it enough to make a point and not sound like a broken record," agrees the witch. Organizing the creme brulee means carefully floating it to the table; the noodles are easy. Get a fork and there they are, thick and wondrous ropes of happiness simmered in a sauce that brings the best of East and West together on the Silk Road. The scent is mouthwatering, helped along by beef and lamb tucked in there. "I can help him work through memories and experiences in a non-damaging way. Even if things go entirely off the rails, there is no way for either of us to get hurt." Her fingers move slightly, red light dancing around her fingers. "It is not a substitute for a trained expert dealing with heavy trauma on that scale. My advantages are different. That said, he's been establishing himself well." A beat follows. "Though I am rather concerned about his affiliation with Zemo."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Well there's only so much you can do. You can't make him go do it, and if we keep hassling him about it, he'll just dig in his heels," Steve admits reluctantly. "Just keep it in a back pocket for when you think the moment is opportune."

"Er, that goes for the shrink, /and/ Zemo," Steve concludes regretfully. "Not wild about him hanging out with the guy but... I guess Zemo understands part of him the way me and Sam never quite could. We don't want to talk to the weapon, we want the man. Maybe part of what he gets from Zemo is that, uh, identity."

Steve takes a sip of his dark stout. "Anyway. Aside from Bucky, what's been new with you?" he inquires. "Feel like we've been on opposite ends of things for a month now. Always a weird feeling when the team's not all working on the same problem at once."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"I don't intend to make anyone do anything. Puppeting people against their will turns out well for no one. I merely remind him, gently," and she is very much the embodiment of gentle, smiling so, "that my experience in these matters isn't commensurate with someone accredited. Doing volunteer work in a crisis centre and Good Samaritans cannot make up for that. Which he understands. James is bright, quick, and working beyond the HYDRA shortcomings they programmed into him. I am admittedly concerned for the Red Room's work on him and Nadia -- though she means well -- was making him rather nervous at points. I hope she didn't blame the deflection last time we met on annoyance, but it's hard to ignore someone backpedalling nervously."

Her smile wanes a bit, for always balancing the care for others and the protectiveness costs something. But she takes a few moments to centre herself, and in that time, taps the noodles. "Eat, Steve. Trust me, they are best hot or reheated. Zemo worries me for his motive, which is never good. I won't paint him entirely as a criminal without good intent. No one is that simple. He has reasons for their association and I will do what I can to steer a narrow course if we meet. It's merely something to bring up to you, knowing that association still persists. I can't help but think that if we could build a bridge in some way, maybe it would help to ease the hurts of the past and help the baron find peace with himself and what happened. At least where he doesn't feel obligated to strike at us."

Wishful thinking, but what is the age if not brimming with cynical optimism? Is there not hope tempered by springing from a dark soil rowed in war and contempt?

"It feels odd not to be in a crisis state." She smiles a little wearily. "It's strange. I should be up to more. I've been focusing on self-improvement, finding balance. Went into Gotham to catch a show or two, heard from Bruce about what happened with Ultron -- what he suspects is Ultron, anyway. I think he tried asking me out on a date, but not the right time or place. I'm not the sort he needs."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve's head bobs in apology and he attacks the food head-on. It is good, and he chews with the appreciation of someone thoroughly enjoying a good meal and fine company.

"Bruce did?" Steve pauses, looking mildly surprised. "Hnnh. Good for him," he muses. He glances at Wanda. "Not that-- I mean, timing, right?" he clarifes, hastily. "But Bruce, he's gotten so used to being a loner I don't think he realizes how lonely he is. And he keeps people at arm's length."

He cracks a grin at Wanda. "Maybe we -don't- need Doc, after all," he chuckles. "You might have a second career as a therapist, you know? Lord knows the cape community doesn't have a lot of them. But I don't know if our issues--" he gestures with a fork, at the total group-- "really translate well to 'group therapy' or not."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"He did. I didn't get much out, but another reason to ask Nadia about what happened as she was at the forefront of what happened. The fact we minimized damage counts." Wanda goes after a plate and noodly goodness herself.

Until she realizes it's the other 'did' and catches herself. "Oh. Yes, that. He certainly is lonely and I feel that keenly, I do. But let's be real in putting together someone with two very distinct personalities and me, the vessel for change and an elder god, may not be exactly the best idea. We need him on Team Earth to help rein me in if things go a bit dodgy. Other reasons for meals like this, it keeps me human. Reminds me of a world beyond shields and capes for what truly matters. You have to come home from all the fighting to know what it is we fight for, right?"

Far from perfect at this, the pursuit of wisdom is something she can hope to attain. Steve is far more rooted. That earns a laugh, still, when he waggles his fork. "Our issues don't make for good group therapy unless it is allowing disparate voices to be heard without fear. Playing referee between two people who can blast themselves to pieces is part of the requirements. But we are a family and families have squabbles, too. Having a chance to talk privately or confront things that could have gone differently or conversations that might not have happened is constructive, and I can do that."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve finishes his noodles and transitions to dessert. Perhaps a little hastily; the dessert has been eyeballing him steadily and his fingers are itching for something sugar-glazed. "Look, don't sell yourself short, Wanda," Steve points out. "People said me an' Janet wouldn't work out." He lifts a broad shoulder in an unconcerned shrug. "Granted our, uh, liabilities aren't on the 'apocalyptic' side, but we've both got our share of issues. We're human just like anyone else. Having someone around-- I'unno," he says with a shrug, and takes another bite of the dessert. "It makes things a little easier to deal with. Don't be so quick to put yourself down, y'know?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The laugh shines warmly. "You have. But I'm not honestly feeling it. As a friend or a brother..." She trails off, and then Wanda gestures to the noodles for a tasty nibble of the precious noodles. Mmm. Savory happiness. Gotta love it. Her fork twirls and she smiles wider. "Your liabilities could be wider reaching, and never doubt that. I will not downplay the value for any relationship for those in it will always be at the middle of their lives. It matters too because your happiness is a heavy consequence. Not that you need me telling you that."

It feels wrong to tell him how to live his life, after all. "Just waiting for the right moment and the right person."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Boy howdy, do I know how that feels," Steve mutters. He grins ruefully up at Wanda, and gets to his feet to start collecting the dishes as they're finished up. "During the War, Peg and me-- Peg Carter," he clarifies, "we kind of had... I don't know. A something, but it never went anywhere. We were both always thinking about the next mission, next operation. Never even talked about after the war."

"After me and Zinda got thawed, I was still feeling at loose ends. Peg was gone; only a few friends from the old days still around. I was just gonna throw myself back into the mission. Never would have guessed Janet and I would end up together, but--" he shrugs helplessly. "Right moment, right person, like you said. When you see it, you'll know it," he promises her. "There's no harm in waiting."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Tales from the past, her favourite thing, nearly. Wanda will never lack an inspiration for the world she did not come from, for there are people who were present. Her eyes brighten, lips turning up warmly as she listens to every sound. A nod for Peggy; "I know her. When Clint brought me into SHIELD's orbit, she was one of the first people I looked up. Amazing what she accomplished, especially in those days."

Footnote: Cold War. For sure.

"Zinda -Blake-, wasn't it? There's a name I haven't heard in a very long time." Her smile fades into place as she eyes the creme brulee, but not quite! Meals must be had somewhat properly. "I will, in more ways than one. I'm good with that, though. The business of being an Avenger and a witch comes first so often, it makes just living life strange. Especially since we're sitting... I can't say fallow. Quieter now."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Zinda Blake," Steve confirms. "She was a hellion. Could drink a platoon of Marines under the table, clear them out one-handed, and then the next morning she'd convince them all to go take a hillside with nothing but a few choice words. Her and Peg--" he chuckles ruefully, shaking his head and looking out onto Brooklyn's nightscape. He's deep in his memories, eyes staring into the distance. "Never could decide on if they were friends or not. They may not have liked each other but I think they always respected each other." He blinks himself out of his reverie, shaking back to reality.

"But if you'll take a little free advice: this Avenger's business, we're in for the long haul. There's never gonna be a time when some calamity's not unravelling or we get summoned off to go deal with some threat for weeks on end. If you feel like you want to start building something special, you do it with someone who understands what you're doing," he offers. "And when you can make time for each other-- you do." Shoulders rise and fall with a shrug and he dries his hands absently on a towel cloth.