782/So How Was Your Vacation

So How Was Your Vacation
Date of Scene:	26 March 2020
Location:	Avengers Mansion - Kitchen
Synopsis:	Scott returns to the mansion and Steve, along with JARVIS, is there to greet him. Quesadillas are made and plans to ricochet and fling shrinky-dinks are made -- but after food.
Cast of Characters:	Scott Lang, Steve Rogers

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Scott Lang has posed:
There was a moment of stress about whether or not his keycard would work at the entrance. Not because there was some fear of getting inside, but more that he might have broken the keycard because it ended up in the laundry. Not just the general laundry (he hasn't gotten to that yet), but with jeans. Things have been beaten up in such a cycle.

But fortunately, the card worked, and Lang was able to stroll inside the mansion, beaming up at the ceiling when JARVIS offered a pleasant greeting, with a sharp little salute of two fingers. To nobody. Well, JARVIS, but Scott added a little spin in place to be sure JARVIS saw it. Instead of taking his bag to his room, though, he wandered to the kitchen, setting his bag neatly in one of the chairs at the small side-table, and approached the idea of a quick meal. Cheese, Tortilla-- this will work. He gets all of that out, but the pan he wants is dirty, so he gets further distracted by settling in help out with the dishes.

May as well help out. Hoodie hung over the back of the chair, he hums while he cleans up the found dishes.... Until a slosh of water comes up over the front of his t-shirt. "/Yep/. Order of operations maybe should have been laundry first," Scott chides to himself with a sigh, grabbing a towel to pad the slosh from his abdomen.

Steve Rogers has posed:
In the bottom corner of the holographic screen, a blip from JARVIS pops up. It's a notification about card usage at the front door and one that's had a duration of absence in the mansion proper. Steve's attention gravitates towards it and his teeth stop mulling at the eraser of the pencil he's been holding against his bottom lip.

"I'll be damned," he murmurs to himself as he sets the writing utensil aside and rises from the chair at his upstairs office-desk. In a black t-shirt sporting WASP in bright golden letters and plain jeans with white socks, down the Captain descends along the main staircase and hangs a turn to head into the kitchen when he hears the slosh of water.

His head leads his entrance into the room, quickly followed by his broad shoulder and then full presence, a little grin on his face. "Scott! Glad your card still worked." If Steve notices the large wet spot of dishwaster on Scott's shirt, he makes no notice of it and instead holds out a hand for a shake as he walks over, the grip sure to be friendly and firm. "Good to have you back, there's been some big changes around here lately. A familiar face is a simple relief."

Scott Lang has posed:
Scott was in full view, leaned over to prod with the towel at his shirt, but he looks up immediately at the call of his name. No real surprise: he expected to see his Avenger pals, though it could have been at a slightly better moment.

"Hi!" Scott answers, though, upbeat automatically, free hand moving to the sink to shut off the water without looking. He's not going to be environmentally unfriendly while staring at Captain America. "So am I. Creeping in wasn't really the initial vibe I wanted on return," he smiles, warm. He accepts the handshake eagerly. "Glad to BE back, Cap. Tain. Steve. Sir." Yep, that got mangled, but Scott doesn't flinch, he just leans into it. "Or Wasp the second?" he asks, eyes on the big Wasp emblem on Steve's shirt, with a quick half-grin, easy fun in Scott's light eyes.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Captain the first," replies the man good-naturedly as he then takes a step back to allow Scott his personal space. "Stark thought it was time to see about taking the team public with merchandise. 'm not unfamiliar with it, but it was a surprise to some of the others. Make a point of seeing Janet's concept action figure. 's'individual." The way Steve says this is absolutely meant to plant curiosity about the mangled prank of a design. "'ve got it in my room, I'll show it to you one time."

He notes the fixings for a cheese quesadilla and looks back to Scott. "If you wanna finish making up your meal, 've got the dishes. It was on my to-do list for today, but I got caught up in emails." There aren't any sleeves to roll up, but the super-soldier still unconciously brushes palms along his forearms as he makes to step to the sink unless otherwise diverted.

Scott Lang has posed:
"/Action/ figures?" Scott asks, enthusiastic immediately. Count on Scott to like the toy angle. "Little mini-mes? Cassie would flip," he says, perked up. Cassie is, of course, Scott's young daughter. "I have a test monkey on deck to tell you if your toys are truly ugly," Scott promises, but glances down at his shirt, blotting two more times, then just letting it be what it is.

But he pauses. "Hank's going to block Ant-toys, isn't he," Scott says, with a slight sideways pull of mouth. Well, it's not up to him. He steps back immediately when Steve offers to take dishes over. "All you, not much left. Beware the big pot, it'll get you," Scott warns, stepping aside further to pick up the skillet he'd wanted, drying it off. "D'you want one too?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
Rightly forewarned, Steve's careful to shift the big pot around in the sink. Water sloshes against the sides and still flicks a few drops onto his black shirt. He brushes at these, smirking to himself.

"Won't say no to a quesadilla, thanks, Scott." A squirt of dish soap into the floral-patterned sponge and he gets to scrubbing with an easy focus pulled towards the other man as he glances up. "That's a good point though, didn't think about Cassie. Sure, love to see what she thinks about the toy designs. She'd be a good age group for it too. Insofar as Hank?" The Avenger shrugs before turning his attention back to the white froth of bubbles coating the pot and his hand up to his wrist now. "He might, he might not. His lab work keeps him happy. Might choose to keep his nose out of the entire affair. How is Cassie though?"

Scott Lang has posed:
"Yeah. He can be hit or miss," Scott agrees about Hank Pym. Scott is rarely directly negative about he benefactor. He wouldn't be Ant-Man without the man's approval, and Scott's not looking gift horses in the mouth, particularly ones with sharp pointy teeth at times.

Scott salutes with a spatula regarding wnating a quesadilla as well, and sets about working on that without any further distractions. He makes them all the time at home, so it's not holding his full attention, not really. "Getting huge. That's her job though. Getting huge. She'll beat me in size in the end, she's assured me. I welcome it," Scott says, his smile warm, full of recent memory of his daughter. "We had a mild crisis of the loss of Miss Agnes the horse, but there was a daring rescue. I'll spare the details, but heroism was involved. How have things been here?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
As he sets aside the pot, now rinsed free of debris and soap alike, Steve gives the other man a small smile. The homeliness of his report is something both foreign and dearly missed to the Captain, himself having been privy to helping raise Barnes' younger sister, Rebecca.

"Glad to hear the horse made it out alive. It's the little things that count, 'specially when heroism's involved. Things here?" The Captain blows a sigh as his brows lift in thought. His attention returns to the next pot up for washing.

"Trying to figure out how best to sum it up. Thor's back," he notes first with a glance towards Scott. "You'll see him walking around when he's not in Asgard. Janet's busy as always, got another show coming up. You've probably seen the presidential ads. Natasha's around here as well when she's not dealing with SHIELD. T'Challa's in the area too, dunno if you remember or've met him yet -- King of Wakanda. Barton 'nd Maximoff are a thing now. Wanda, I mean," he clarifies. "Her brother's recently back in town, Pietro. Captain Danvers is helping us with some things involving Genosha, which has had most of us on-deck with humanitarian aid 'nd figuring out who did it. We're lucky to have Miss Prince, Wonder Woman, on-board as well." Another glance over at Scott and his smile is quiet. "Never a dull moment around here."

Scott Lang has posed:
Sometimes the Avengers stay so far out in the upper stratosphere of insane enemies, gods, kings, presidents, that maybe something like Scott's grounding is needed now and then. The small child and her rescued toy. The people like Cassie or Rebecca that they became heroes /for/.

"That...." Scott remarks, "Is a lot of things. JARVIS? Can you take notes please?" Scott uncertainly addresses the ceiling.

"Of course, Mr. Lang," agrees JARVIS.

"With a star next to the Hawkeye-ScarletWitch-ship for follow up." He grins aside at Steve.

"Done, Mr. Lang."

"I missed you dearly," Scott adds upwards, with relief and honesty.

Scott moves to put the first quesadilla out on the heated pan, adding cheese and so forth. "I've kept up a little, but not on everything. I feel terrible for Genosha, but it's hard to look at it on the news every day," Scott sighs in admission. But he gives a smile to Steve. "I'm really glad we're helping, though. That I'm a part of that. If I can lend a hand in that one, I'm entirely here now. Or, you know, whatever small stuff, to free up you big guys." He adjusts the quesadilla, checks it to see if it needs flipping. Not quite yet.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve too glances up towards the ceiling. His smile is a knowing one; he too appreciates the AI's ability to consolidate the unbelievable amount of information flowing through the mansion every day, much less in conversation. Another pot gets set aside in lieu of a handful of dishes, these smaller and much easier to rub out with the soapy sponge. It doesn't matter that they could easily go into the dishwasher. The motion of cleaning up the sink's contents is more than a little zen and a little win in the eventuality of an empty sink.

"I understand what you mean. 's'a bit close all of the time now, Genosha. Makes it important to keep the positive things in mind, be grateful for what we have here 'nd that we're able to share it with those who need it more. You're not smaller'n us though, Scott." Steve pauses to look dead at the man, the better to impress his point. "You're an Avenger. We might bring a lot of different skill sets to the board, but nobody's bigger or smaller'n anyone else. Now, if we're talking about personalities? That's another kettle of fish." Smiling to himself, he returns to the sink's dishes.

Scott Lang has posed:
"Well. Yeah." Scott chews on Captain America's direct information about Scott's place in the Avengers. Hard to argue with Captain America at all. Scott doesn't even feel awkward about it. Magical team leader things.

"That's... inspiring of you," Scott says, assessing the statement in his genuine, observant way. "I appreciate it. Though I meant it more that I don't mind doing whatever could help," Scott adjusts, still upbeat. He flips over the quesadilla, hanging out by it, watching the dishwashing progress with non-judgement. After all, he was doing the same thing. Helping in some small way. "To contribute. Whatever that means."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"The truth can be inspiring, 'nd so can any contribution you can share with the team or anybody who needs our help. Figure for now, things're calm, so we focus on keeping up moral around the mansion. Calm's not going to last forever. Pym might tack it up as the Second Law of Thermodynamics or something."

After the next pot gets placed into the draining rack, it's all downhill from there: easier, rather. Everything else goes into the sink and as Steve is straightening from closing it, he adds, "Bit like this sink. Clean it now, 's'gonna get dirty later. Fact of life. Science too, apparently." His smile is easy-going yet. "That smells great too by the way, thank you," he adds as he takes up an easy lean on the counter-island across from the sink.

Scott Lang has posed:
Scott listens, most of his attention on Steve, until Steve mentions how good the cooking cheese smells. Scott looks back to it, checking it, and flips the current quesadilla off onto a plate. He got a knife out, and then grins a little, instead offering the plate and food to Steve. "Sorry, forgot that you're able to cut the triangles into whatever size you want," he laughs softly. Steve is not a child, of course.

Scott makes the second quesadilla, putting that all together. "Take a breather while it's calm, guess that's all we can do. Go outside, feel some spring sunshine," Scott says, with a deep, robust draw of air and smile. "I feel like I should be out in a park, throwing a frisbee."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Wouldn't have been offended if you'd taken a knife to it." Regardless, Steve takes the plate and quesadilla with a little smile of gratitude. He's impatient enough to try picking it up, but given it's only off the skillet by less than a minute, he carefully puts it back down and blows on his fingertips.

Glancing up at Scott, he nods thoughtfully. "Nothing saying we can't eat on the back patio. 'm sure there's a Frisbee around here too if you want to indulge in the backyard? Gardener William finished putting down the new turf, it'll be settled so no one turns an ankle."

Scott Lang has posed:
"/That/," Scott says, with a gesture of spatula, "is an awesome idea. Frisbee on the giant burn mark, true Avengers style," Scott laughs, glancing out the kitchen window. He'd seen the burn mark previously when he went out to vist the Pym lab sitting out there.

"You're probably killer at frisbee, I realize, though. The shield," Scott mock 'winces,' but chuckles. "No excuse for any of them to be anything other than dead center for me."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Given he's got a mouthful of hot quesadilla now, Steve nods at first and lifts the plate in agreement to the plan. Once his mouth is clear, he sets the food down and shakes out his fingers again; it's still pinking them, not worth holding yet.

"Doesn't matter if any of 'em wing off to one side, the exercise'll be worth it. I'll try to not dive into the rosebushes after it this time." By his mild smile, he's joking...or is he? "We'll try not to bounce it off Pym's lab. Have a feeling he might come out 'nd raise Cain if we did."

He muses a moment, picking at a cooler corner of the quesadilla impatiently. "Maybe see if I can bounce it off the garden statues instead. Bonus points if it ricochets 'nd we catch it?"

Scott Lang has posed:
"/Actually/," Scott says, thoughful, "I would love some target practice trying to nail a frisbee with a shrinky-d----errr, disc," Scott says, perking up. "But maybe not when it's being flung at my head." Scott laughs, and flips over his own quesadilla. It's cooking faster since the skillet was hot, and it's done soon enough. He shuts off the heat and gives it a few quick slices, sliding it to a plate and fishing a bottled water out of the fridge.

"I also like the ricochet idea. Mostly because I want to see you do it."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"I like that idea better actually," the Captain agrees, having finished nearly all of his own little meal by now. "See if I can ricochet the Frisbee off of various objects around the backyard 'nd you see about using 'em as targets for your...shrinky-dinks."

That took a moment of composure to say without a broader grin and perhaps a laugh. Steve knows that the owner of the lab out back would be vastly annoyed to hear them called 'shrinky-dink'. Maybe even Janet, now that he muses to himself.

"Can you extrapolate how big they'd get if you used one of the enlarging discs? Not gonna wreck the yard, is it? Remember, Gardener William just replaced the sod."

Scott Lang has posed:
"Maybe we can combine the two. Shrinky-discs. But they don't all shrink, so. But I can practice with the shrinking ones. That way, nobody gets a giant disc in the face or elsewhere. Maybe just a.... tiny one in the eye. So avoid the eyes? Apply sunglasses," Scott attempted to pick up his quesadilla and rapidly thought better of it.

"I vote: eat outside, soak in some vitamin D... go from there?" Scott suggests cheerfully, gesturing towards the door with his water, smilng to Steve, to invite to eat their snack outdoors. "I respect the yard. No giant footprints." Scout's honor.

Steve Rogers has posed:
A good-natured grin is shot at Lang. "Appreciate avoiding the giant footprints, Scott." Hipping up off the counter, Steve then briefly diverts to the fridge for his own bottle of water. Having garnered it, he leads the way as motioned towards the back doors. "Start off with some peace 'nd then go from there. Wouldn't want to strain something after eating," he jokes, given the quesadillas are light fare in comparison to other things stashed away in the fridge.

"Tell me about Cassie then. Other'n rescuing horses, what's she been up to?" Steve can be heard to say as they exit out onto the patio, leaving behind the scent of cooked cheese and a clean sink.