839/'Carnaval' in New York

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'Carnaval' in New York
Date of Scene: 29 March 2020
Location: Greenwich Village
Synopsis: Dinner with a work colleague is sometimes more pleasant than you'd imagine.
Cast of Characters: Mason Tavner, Jessica Drew




Mason Tavner has posed:
    It's not too far from the Triskelion to Greenwich. Not far at all for them to take the subway and ride the train out of the base station itself and through the city, to that Greenwich station and the ebb and flow of the people in the evening. It's always such a lively neighborhood, with events going on throughout the week. Evidence in point is what greets their eyes once they clamber up those steps.
    For the tableau is bright and buoyant, with myriad colours alive while the people move and enjoy the celebration. A corner festival? No a folk fair it seems with the rich scent of food from all the corners of the Earth. Perhaps it's just a neighborhood shindig as there are perhaps a dozen booths, only a handful of displays. But it's still a wonderful thing to emerge out onto and it causes Mason's lips to curl up at the corners.
    "Ain't that a thing." The Agent says as he lightly brushes her arm with his elbow and gestures towards the falafel tent as well as the baklava on sale.
    "It looks like, Agent Drew, we got some hard choices ta make. Eat here or press on?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
    Late March in New York City and the nights can still carry a nip in the air. Jessica looks around at the press of people, tying her camel hair coat closer, nodding with a faint smile, head tilted to the side.

The falafel booth sends a waft of frying grease into the air followed by the smoky aroma of shawarma.

"I would like to sit someplace. Can we here? I am so hungry." She cranes her head looking down the row of booths. "What do they have?"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    It's a line of activity with people wandering back and forth, there's that Greek tent that's set with a line for people to choose their slice of meat and their sides, all beneath a red and white cover that protects them from the threat of the rain so soon in the evening. There's a booth with Thai that offers a few freshly prepared dishes set on a series of plastic trays for people to pick up and take with them, sampling sized. There's a booth with turkey drumsticks of all things though there's a smell of Indian spices of all things.
    But one thing it doesn't seem to have is a lot of seating, for people are standing up, milling around, and the few picnic tables are occupied with people leaning against them to eat.
    "Lots of stuff," Mason tells her and then he sort of smiles a little, "But yeah I kinda wanna sit and relax. C'mon, maintenance of aim in all operations, Drew." That old military axiom about having a plan and sticking to it.
    He starts to walk in the direction of the restaurant that's just across the street, a little hole in the wall with a white pained over window with the name, 'Mineiro's' written there cleanly.

Jessica Drew has posed:
    Caught between the Thai food and wanting to sit indoors or at least be seated, Jessica's eyes dart between the tent and the picnic tables. "If they have something to drink, I'll be up for anything." He provokes a smile and a chuff of laughter from her with his 'maintenance of aim'.

"Ever the field agent, right, Tavner?" She lifts her chin, following the direction he points in. "Fine with me. Mineiro's? That's Brazilian! A mining state there if I'm not mistaken. Lead on!"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    A smirk flickers over his handsome features but he gives her a nod, "After you," He offers as he reaches the door and holds it open for her, the small bell in the door jangling with the movement as he steps back. But once she's through and her eyes adjust, she'll see it's mainly a small place with just one straight aisle into the back of the building with tables on either side of it. Perhaps room for fifty people at most, though to the left there's a rather elaborate buffet set out with salad fixings as well as some entree items and rice and the like.
    "So okay, the etiquette of a place like this."
    "Hello, will that be two?" The young hostess asks as she steps up to them with menus.
    "Yes, please, for the special."
    And as she hears that she puts the menus down and directs them to a table, smiling as she wishes them well. "Please help yourselves."
    But once they're at the table he says, "So here's what we do. Go up, get some stuff to have with the BBQ, whatever salad stuff or whatever. Then bring it back here." He smiles a little and warns her, "Don't fill up on bread though. Then we come back here and you see this?"
    He holds up a small stick with a red end and a green end on a rotating wheel. He flicks it with a finger and sends it spinning. "When we flip the green part up, it means bring us tasty protein. When the red end is up, it means we are stuffed please have mercy on us. Got it?"
    And if she agrees it's off to the buffet.

Jessica Drew has posed:
The place is crowded, a very good sign in New York, especially across the street from the tempting booths they had walked among. She shrugs out of her coat revealing a black dress that would not be out of place in most of the major cities in the world - black wool, form fitting without being tight, a thin belt at the waist and a side slit that makes it easy to move in, high heels dress it up but Jessica not being a slave to fashion does not teeter in them.

After putting her coat and bag in the seat next to her, she listens intrigued to the explanation, following his finger from buffet to the rotating wheel. "I have a feeling that this is a place for big appetites. Yes, good for the salad. I need something green with every meal but breakfast and even then sometimes. Shall we?"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "Of course," And as he says that he moves to step to the buffet.
    It's only a little bit of time before they're both back at the table with their plates and a pair of beers brought for them. At times their conversation is interrupted when a server comes by with a giant skewer of some kind of specialist meat and he slices off pieces for them to sample and enjoy. It's a lovely experience if a bit curious, not exactly fine dining and more a communal enjoyable thing with people talking about the food across tables and laughing while sharing stories.
    The vibe is definitely enjoyable and some of the servers seem to know Mason there, and with how the people are she might understand why he comes there. As people need some place to be social away from home. So it's a small window into his life he shares. And as they eat and indulge there are times when the food is just /that/ good that conversation is hindered. Then other times they have to be nice to their neighbors and indulge in the tales shared.
    But as the evening goes on with him on his third beer and his cheeks warm, he smiles across the table to her and murmurs, "Hey Drew."
    A beat, "Thanks for comin' out with me."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jessica's head turns, face flushed from the beer and shared laughter. It's a novel experience to her, international traveler that she is, still, in some ways naive, not having had the chance at small pleasures of shared food and quips exchanged between strangers with greasy fingers and smiles for one another.

His words slow her smile into something more thoughtful but the evening has been too entertaining not to respond spontaneously, "Tavner. It was a great idea. Thanks for inviting me."

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "So," He says as he turns his back on the room as a whole, focusing on her as he leans a little on the table, tilting his long neck beer back and takes a swig. "About what happened earlier today while we were trainin'." His blue eyes meet hers and there's curiousity there, something a little wary to be sure, but intrigued.
    "I've been outta the dating game for a good bit of time, but I don't ever remember anythin' like that passing for flirtation in my day and age." Not that he's that old, though sometimes amongst the younger agents he does feel like a papa bear of sorts.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Eyes widening into a perfect expression of innocence, she blinks, as she answers convincingly, "That wasn't flirting?" She scrutinizes him, eyes narrowing, lips pursed, "That old, huh? You may be too old for me, Tavner. I would have sworn that was flirting." Those green eyes drop now, a smile ghosting across her generous mouth as she asks, contritely, "You didn't like it?"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "Oh no, don't get me wrong." The blond man smiles and lowers his eyes a little, then looks back up at her from beneath those hooded eyelids. "More... took me by surprise." He shifts his feet a little under the table, the sound of his shoes scuffing slightly is heard just under the faint hum of the crowd in the room.
    She might feel the toe of his shoe lightly touch hers, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not as he looks back to her, "But yeah. I liked it." Even as his smile slips into a grin, one eye scrunching up as he feigns a small wince as he murmurs, "Though, to be fair m'gonna carry the bruises with me ta remind me for a few days. Thanks for that by the way."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Free bruises for you, Tavner, any day. I bet you say that to all the agents," returning a smile, not nearly as wide as his grin, a reticence keeping it at bay. She lifts her beer bottle and tilts it at him in a toast, "To bruises and always recovering from them!" The foot touch arrests her arm rising higher, a fleeting question lifting her eyebrows before she takes a healthy sip of her beer. Her foot remains in place.

"So, I know you're American but not from where? From here? New York?"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "New York, upstate." He answers her with a small clink of his beer yet that doesn't fit his accent at all and he knows it. "But," Mason tilts his bottle back and takes a sip, letting his eyes slip to the side and away, that small pressure of his foot against hers just a comfort as he continues, "I sorta spent a good amount of time in Texas. So that's prolly where you hear the twang from." Knowing that he's gotten a bit of grief about it, but to be fair he's also given more than his fair share of grief back.
    "And you? I mean, I figured I could just read your file." His blue eyes return to hers as he sets his beer bottle down with a clink. "But where's the fun in that?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Essentially British, I suppose. That's the easy answer and explains my accent. Not a London accent but Oxford." She takes a quick deep breath before adding, "My parents." Veering away from herself, she leans intently across the table, humor sparkling in her eyes, "So Texas! How can you live that down? It explains so much!"

She veers back, wanting to be known but cautious, "Transia, I grew up there. Mostly, till I wasn't. It gets complicated." Again, she maintains a social smile but a shadow gives it an edge of artificiality.

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "Hey." The bottle comes up to point at her as his eyebrows raise, warning, so serious. "Don't mess with Texas." The state motto after all. But his lip twists a little as he murmurs, "But I figured British. Transia I'm not familiar with. I shall have to google when I get home."
    That said he can read those small hints and swerves the conversation back around, perhaps realizing she might not be inclined to talk about herself, so he aims things square back at himself.
    "My dad ran a ranch, so I grew up with how most people imagine Texans live. Raising livestock, tending horses, doing chores after chores after chores. Learnin' how to shoot. I ate it all up."
    He gives a small shrug and murmurs, "Once they found out about my penchant for having good hunches and being able to make a thousand yard shot nine times outta ten I got scooped up for SHIELD and here I am."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"No military in there? Hard to find out someone is a crack shot if they are somewhere in the middle of a five hundred acre ranch." She shrugs humorously at him, tipping her bottle right back at him.

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "A bit," Mason offers to her in reply, shifting to his side and for a moment his foot eases a little back and away from her as he rests a shoulder against the wall of the restaurant and props his far leg up on the seat beside him. "Two tours, got into OTS, got hit for intelligence. Poached by CIA, then my thing came up with the weirdness." Likely meaning his mutant ability, "And then SHIELD. But figured you didn't want the whoooole shebang."
    There's a small smile as he turns his head and looks back at her, and that...is the moment when she'll feel his foot lightly touch the supple curve of her calf, just a small caress under the table as he murmurs. "I figured save some mysteries to be talked about over breakfast."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Her green eyes hold his eyes for a long cool moment, "Who are you having breakfast with then?" With a sideways tilt to her head and a subtle move of her shoulder, she smiles innocently on the surface, still not letting his gaze go.

"I'd like to hear the whole shebang. Not everyone can say their thing came up with the weirdness. That is probably the most unique way of talking about one's uniqueness I have ever heard. I don't know all the agents' files you know."

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "Oh you know, mebbe Janet from accounting." Mason says as his eyes lift a bit contemplatively, one finger scritching at his chin as he ponders for a bit. Though he smirks a little and resumes his leaning on the table posture, pushing around a small bit of bread on the plate and soaking up some of the remaining gravy. "But yeah, the weirdness." The turn of phrase seems to be familiar to him, probably a strong part of his internal monologue or how he thinks of it for himself.
    "For a time it wasn't a thing, I didn't even know about it. But out in the field I started getting these feelings more and more, and they turned out to be right more and more. So eventually they took me down to this counter intel op forward base and did the ole..."
    He lifts the bread and gestures with it as if trying to make a circle, "Take a look at this picture, what do you think is happening psych test. First ink blots, but then it was satellite and intelligence images. And most of the time I was right, one way or another."
    He shrugs and pops the bread in his mouth, chews.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Should I send her condolences?" She asks mildly, watching him chew. One finger chips at the label on her beer bottle, she is beginning to lever it off whole while she listens intently to his recital.

"So something that began for you as an adult. It seems to happen to a lot of us after puberty. 'Late onset mutation awareness' or something along those lines. Do you go out in the field often or do they keep you in the war room all the time for your skills?"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    There's a slight smirk, perhaps imagining that Jessica might be seeming a little possessive with that first comment, but lets it slip for now. The other agent lifts his bottle and gestures to the side with it, "Talked to some of the docs, they think it manifested when I was younger. But that the act of being in combat sort of made it more prominent. Your brain goes into overdrive, start processing along different streams, so sort of like. Normal life was limited data, worrying about getting my head blown off kicks it into high gear."
    That said he takes a sip of his beer and murmurs, "But mainly I'm a field agent since my gift works best under tense situations. Though they'll gimme homework now and again, satellite photos or intel shots. I look at 'em and then toss them an email with what I think is goin' on."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Homework," she chuffs a small laugh, wondering what he could be smirking at. She decides that she should indeed send her condolences to Janet in accounting. Janet. She takes a dislike to that name on the spot - imagining it sounds like cold oatmeal, instead of some deliciously sexy woman wearing thick-rimmed glasses that she removes before loosening her hair. She touches her own dark hair.

"You would be good to have on a team. Don't you work in one?"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    The blond man nods as he takes another bite of that piece of bread, but then he sort of eases to the side, resting his back against the wall and propping one foot up on the seat beside him. There's a small smile that plays across his lips as he looks away, giving a wave to the bartender and shaking his head slightly, likely not wanting fourth beer for now.
    Then he looks back towards Jess and murmurs, "Yeah, there are four STRIKE teams, though sometimes we shuffle personnel when one of us is down or recovering. Most of them are good folks, a few with gifts like me but same sorta low-key things." There's a pause as he considers something, but doesn't give it voice.
    Instead he looks to her and murmurs, "Though we spend most of our time on the ready line waiting to deploy so..." He smiles a little, "You can see why I might've had some spare time ta kill and come up with that project in the gym." To remodel the place in his spare moments.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"A lot of downtime for song writing?" A faint smile crosses her lips until the image of the shrine comes to mind. Someone he lost, of course, perhaps on operations. Her eyes soften, "The gym, the altar? Was she, I imagine it was a she, was she a team member?"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    A small chuff escapes him, an exhalation that'd be a laugh if he gave it a little more heft, but then he shakes his head even though his answer is an affirmative. "Plenty of time for that, songs just come to me kinda. Usually I'll be doin' somethin' else and then it'll remind me of what I was doin' before and I'd just start humming."
    That said he furrows hiw brow, the mention of the altar, then he shakes his head. "Oh nah. That was... you know, Shinto tradition and all. Usually you pay homage to the person who got you started in things. Ancestors, but in this case was my uncle since he kicked my butt enough to get me to make somethin' of my life. Starting with learning how ta take care of my self."
    He then leans forward and without so much as a by your leave steals a small strip of steak off of Jessica's plate and promptly munches it, smiling as he does so.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Her hand is a blur as she reaches out to tap his retreating hand, retaliation for the steak strip, and for her mistakenly thinking he was mooning for the tragic loss of a fellow agent with that shrine. With a small smile of victory, she says, "Your uncle sounds like he was a righteous man! You probably needed much butt-kicking." The contrast in their accents is clear with her staccato English Ts and a palpable ing ending.

"Truant steak stealer. Are you ready to go? I ate half a steer myself."

Mason Tavner has posed:
    Another 'heh' but he nods, "Oh yeah. I was a handful. Half worried if I ever have kids they'll karmically turn out like me. Which would be..." His eyebrows lift. "A nightmare of epic proportions." That said he does make a small show of rubbing his wrist and affecting almost a puppy-dog eye look as if admonishing her for such meanness.
    But then the pretense drops when she asks her question and he nods once, "Indeed, let's mosey." That said he digs into his pocket as he stands, pulling out a roll of twenties and starts threading out five of them, setting them on the table under a plate. That done he nods to her, "Stop draggin' yer butt, Agent Drew. Once again STRIKE's gotta cover for you folks in specops all over again."
    He even goes so far as to cluck his tongue and tsk at her though he heads to the door and he can't be too terribly put out since he holds it for her.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"As it should be Tavner, only as it should be. No one is dragging their butt. Rather kicking it if I remember our afternoon together? Hmmmm." That quip is quite unaccountably accompanied by the image of his muscular ass in a white gi as she folded him in half on the mat.

Back out into the night, cold enough for her to slip back into her coat and tighten its belt, she might regret not wearing boots.

"Subway or taxi? If it were warmer, I would walk home. I never thought to ask if you have a place in the City or in Westchester."

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "I have a place," Mason says as he stands out there, and the folk fair seems to be mostly breaking up. Some of the stalls are still there but with it being well past the dinner hour the foot traffic is much less. Though if one were of the mind to get some baklava they might be able to finagle a piece or two.
    "But," He says as he eyes her sidelong out there on the sidwalk. "I sorta live outta the Triskelion so... no idea what state it's in. Though I think I do pay a cleaning service." Kind of scary that he isn't sure.
    A toss of his head is given in the direction towards Central Park, "It's only a few blocks away if you want to walk. But," He points at her, "No judging. I can see it in your beady agent eyes, you're gonna be all judgey."
    And perhaps those words are a little playfully mean, but the half-smile there steals all the possible malice from them. He starts walking.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Wait. I'm not going home with you Tavner. Where did you get that idea?" The sidelong look is returned with a head toss and a disbelieving smile. His very one track mind has her almost admirative. "You really want me to make this Janet jealous?"

Nodding to the stalls across the street. "The food stands are going down, I wouldn't mind buying a piece of baklava. Would you?"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "I wasn't meaning it like that..." He says at first, but then there's a pause as he seems to have an inner discussion with himself, "Well maybe a little like that. More you were askin' if I was gonna take a subway or a cab. I was tryin' ta figure out which'd be best from here."
    His lip twitches as he starts walking over towards the small stall where there's a plate of baklava up there with a '50% off' sign next to it. He pulls out a few bills and places them in the small bowl beside the plate and waves two the two young women who are packing away the stall.
    For his piece he chooses a crunch rolled one with a drizzle of chocolate over it and holds it carefully in its paper wrap. "To be fair though, I was leaving the option open."
    And with that he nods once before taking a nice bite of that baklava, the flaky dough crunching quietly.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Try...good, honest at least." She grins briefly at him, her fingers hovering over a classic pistachio layered pastry dripping with honey. With a piece of waxed tissue paper that she pulls from a box held under her chin, she bites into it.

"Ummhmm, this is so good. Oh, so many calories, so much goodness." Without thinking, she reaches up to wipe a crumb from the corner of his mouth, then returns to finish off her own rectangle.

Mason Tavner has posed:
    It's a small gesture, but it touches him as his smile slips a little gentler. But he hides it by turning and looking toward the end of the street and the path that'll take them towards the park at the least. He clears his throat and murmurs, "C'mon. We'll walk a ways to the subway stop and we can part there."
    That said he nudges her arm a little with his own then smiles and starts walking back to the sidewalk and steps up onto it.
    "I figure you burned off a good bit of calories earlier when you were pointedly cheating in our sparring match." That said he nods once sagely, as if entirely sure that yes, she was cheating.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"That would be nice," she licks the stickiness of her fingers and wipes them on the pastry paper. "Lead the way, I don't know this neighborhood as well as others.

Keeping in step, she glances once or twice at him, surprisingly contented until his quip about cheating. "Cheating? I was being careful with you Tavner, I didn't want to get in trouble with HQ if I tore you in half and hand fed you your toes." She lifts an admonishing finger at him and makes a chiding sound in her throat. "Be careful of what you accuse people of." The accusation is softened by grin she has a hard time stifling.

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "Greenwich?" He asks when she mentions she doesn't know the local neighborhood and he nods a little. "It's... unique. Not my favorite neighborhood. A lil up its own butt in some ways, but the people are nice." He strolls along still occasionally nibbling on his bit of pastry. But then his lips curve up as she takes umbrage at the addition of 'cheating' to her list of crimes.
    "Oh so that was a regulation tournament viable foot stomp you were lookin' ta use there, Ms. Drew?"
    The way he says her last name there, in a tone tinged with a smile and hinting at affection, it might make up a bit for that accusation of cheating. But then he lifts a hand as if to fend her off, "But alright, alright. We'll call it a draw." Even though it wasn't close enough to that really. At all.
    He takes a deep breath and then seems to shift gears a little, murmuring quietly. "Though, before we head our own ways. I just wanted you to know this was really nice." He nods as he says that last word, looking away from her and walking along some more. Another small bite from the pastry.
    "S'been a while since I've actually gone out with someone. So thank you for that."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jessica relaxes on the walk, the moments of silence between them comfortable. Laughter held in shakes her shoulders as he declares their match a tie. "You're a good fighter. A good tactician. Maybe that is that 'thang' you were talking about." She slaughters the pronunciation of 'thang' and seems to enjoy it.

When he reaches the words 'gone out', she takes an involuntary breath in and looks sharply at him then away. She is going to have to come to terms with her attraction to him or not. It's easier to push him away. Another glance. But so much less fun.

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "It does help now and again." Mason offers, not exactly giving too much insight into how his 'thang' works. But he seems suffice to let that serve for now. He reaches the end of the street and then he nods his head. "Over there," He gestures. "Is the subway."
    Then he turns and motions towards the opposite direction and he murmurs, "A few blocks that way is the apartment I supposedly own and sometimes see."
    He then smiles and rests his hand on the back of the bus stop bench that's there on that corner, even as he nods to her, "So I figure this is where we part ways. But hey, like I said. It was a wonderful time." And as he says that he steps to her, a hand on her shoulder as he leans in and goes for the cheek kiss. A small friendly thing, accepting her hesitation before to be a way for her to pump the brakes.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Yes, you figured right," she says less assertively than she might like. "I enjoyed whupping your butt, too." A grin lights her face up which softens when she adds, "I had a wonderful time, too."

Stepping into him, she give him her cheek, turning her head to return the brush of lips to the side of his face. Small, friendly, she says to herself, but she doesn't move back an acceptable social distance.

Mason Tavner has posed:
    For a time he meets her eyes, looking back and forth slowly from one iris to the other. Whatever thoughts rush through his mind she's not privy to but she can likely sense there is some sort of inner dialogue going on about her, about this moment, about this small shared instance of the world narrowed to just the few inches between them. His lips part and his breath catches for a moment... one fingertip lifts gently to brush a small tangle of hair from her eyes and then the tiniest bit of honey from the corner of her mouth.
    At some point his hand had found hers, fingers had interlaced as initially he had given a small squeeze as if to big farewell. But then his eyes hood just a touch as he decides, "In case I don't see you tomorrow."
    And using those few inadequate words as an excuse he'll dare to touch his lips just to the corner of her mouth. A small caress, deniable, explainable, and yet somehow staggeringly warm for all the gentleness in it when shared.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Mesmerized, she shares his gaze unable or unwilling to move. The gentleness of his gesture unloosens something deep in her diaphragm, she has to take a quick breath through her nose. The touch of his finger to her mouth is like a kiss. Jessica is by no means a passive woman but she stands rooted, face upturned for him to place his lips, just so, at the edge of her mouth. The tenderness and regard resound deeply for her, making her revise her adamant need to push him away.

Mason Tavner has posed:
    It was a wonderful moment, enough to cause the tips of his ears to flush a bit. But then his pale blue eyes meet hers and he gives a small nod, "I'll catch you around the office, Drew." And as he says that he gives her hand one more squeeze before he's drawing back and then stepping away. Another step and his fingers slide from hers. Another and he grins, turning and moving down the sidewalk. A few strides and then he waves over his shoulder as he makes that turn to head on his way back home.
    Once he's out of her line of sight his pace picks up a little bit, hands slipping into his pockets as he looks up towards the sky, nodding to himself and murmuring, "Was a good day." And with that he heads on home.