8463/Occupational References

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Occupational References
Date of Scene: 28 October 2021
Location: Ready Room: Triskelion
Synopsis: Martin brings Jon to SHIELD HQ to meet with the Chief. Tea is had, (because of course it is with three Brits in a room,) and Jon is designated a probationary agent among the ranks. And, because it wouldn't be SHIELD without earth shattering events in the making, Jon gives them both their first impromptu mission together. What a first day!
Cast of Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims, Peggy Carter




Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin Blackwood has been more than contrite with his husband of late. Their reunion--unexpected as it was--had been built on a foundation of betrayal. Martin knows it would take more than a few choice words to patch together the remnants, but in the meantime he also knows that what Jon represents, The Archivist, a repository of forbidden knowledge and power, could be a valueable resource if given direction. And to Martin, SHIELD was a perfect instrument to give the man direction.

    He's been very cagey about where he was taking Jon, but being the man's husband, it was likely easy for the talk darker skinned man to figure out where they were going after a bit of driving time. SHIELD headquarters was a known quantity and while the organization's activities, domestic and abroad, were highly classified the existence of it was public.

    As Martin parks the car before the fortress of government bureaucracy, grabs a black suitcase, and steps out of the car, he looks to Jon. "I don't want to push you to anything..." he says walking toward the main doors. "But I think that you should at least meet the Chief."

    He shows his badge and signs Jon in at the security desk, handing the man a clip on badge that reads "VISITOR" before heading toward the escalator in the back. "You'll like her... or at least, I think you will like her" he says as they ride up. Once at the top Martin leads Jon to the Operations corridor. "She is rather refreshing to speak with" he says, especailly given most of the American goverment system." He stops at a door. "Here we are" he says stopping at a nondescript door. He pulls his badge to a scanner and presses his thump against a reader. Both sensors change from red to green and an audible click can be heard from the door, allowing both men entry.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon eternally refuses to wear ties but he at least puts on a button-up and blazer for going wherever the heck Martin is taking him. He looks around the concrete and steel and glass building, with its granite tile and strict security, all of it clean and regulated. He can't seem to decide if he likes the place or not; he's normally not a fan of the "modern and impersonal" look but things have been so chaotic lately he's sort of glad of the regularity.

    "I don't suppose it matters whether I like her," he comments as Martin opens the door. "Doesn't it rather more matter whether /she/ likes /me/?" Which is always a gamble, given his personality.

    After a moment, he adds, "...I'm glad you trust me enough to bring me here, though, Martin." Trust has been the sticking point in their relationship, the last... 24 hours.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin frowns. "Well. Yes and no. While it's important to have a healthy amount of respct for one's boss... I think having at least a modicum of friendship can go a long way in ensuring clear lines of communication." He leads Jon in and looks for the woman in question.

    He had been told to meet her here and, as he checks his watch, at this time. He stops his scan an looks at Jon. "I... You're welcome. I just thought that, given everything..." his expression is still pained, "it was the least I could do. Transparency hasn't been my strong suit, this might go a long way for that."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon makes a vaguely irritated noise in the back of his throat. "Transparency isn't... I can hardly be transparent about /my/ work, Martin. I'm not--" He stops. Here is /not/ the place for married-couple bickering. Probably. He needs to be /professional/, which means putting aside all the personal issues for the moment.

    "We'll talk about that later," he decides firmly, and nervously fiddles with his jacket cuffs.

Peggy Carter has posed:
A few minutes later than she promised to be, high heels echo on the hard floor outside the room, mostly buried in the ambiance that is SHIELD HQ, but it's hard to miss Peggy Carter approaching. She waves her own badge across the door and steps into the room with a faint scent of vanilla and rose, something old fashioned, following her in contrast to the stark corporate technology of the place.

The 'Chief' doesn't look a day over 30, and yet very like a woman who has been in black and white photos of SHIELD since it's founding. Her hair is still in those perfectly soft vintage waves, pinned just back and off of her face. She's in her ever-red lipstick and a suit that looks more at home in the 40s than now, high waisted with large pant legs and double breasted buttons beneath the perfectly matching gray plaid. She looks the two men over, brow arching curiously as she studies the man next to Martin. "...well, don't just stand there. Sit. I'm having a proper tea cart sent, not the awful things they put through these machines. I figured we'd all appreciate." Her accent is perfectly clipped and British, but somehow warmly amused at the world. "Martin...just whom have you brought me?" She asks, approaching them both with one hand out. "Chief Margaret Carter, but Peggy is just fine if we aren't in the field."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin shakes the Chief's hand with a smile. "This is, in fact, my husband, Ch--Peggy" he says settling down into one of the chairs. His own Mancunian accent is a stark contrast to the crispness of the age-less woman. "The one I spoke with you about. The... situation surrounding him has been handled, as per my report." There is so much paperwork that is needed after the display like the one in the cemetary but SHIELD, true to its namesake, protects the people from having to worry too much about psychotic necromancers.

    "I think, he would make a fine fit among our ranks, but it's ultimately up to you about whether he fits the bill, so to speak." He gives Jon a fond smile. "So I figured it might be best for him to introduce himself and make his own case to you."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks a few times at Martin, then goes to shake Peggy's hand. "Ahh. Jonathan Sims." A pause, and then, "The Archivist." He sits down as well, looking the woman over curiously. His own speech is very much Southern England, stereotypical to the point where people have accused him of faking the accent.

    "I... don't know if SHIELD has records of my grandmother, Gertrude Robinson, or her own predecessor, my great-grandfather Agnus Stacey. I find it entirely possible; we're not /public/ about what we do, but I keep running into people who've met her. It is a, ahh... a mystical sort of title, passed down through my bloodline."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A firm, warm shake is given to Jonathan's hand, "A pleasure, Archivist." Peggy says that term like a title and a brush of respectful affection. There is a moment of sadness in her eyes as he speaks about Gertrude. Then she gives Martin's hand a brief squeeze and a little clap to his shoulder, "YOU, sir, are making trouble everywhere. If it wasn't for your husband I'd be asking far more stern questions about that report, you know?" She cracks a little smile to him, and then motions for them both to sit as she comes around the table to the opposite side, her high heels still making that neat, commanding little click with every step she takes.

Once settled, she looks back to Jonathan, studying him up and down as if she could find the glints of Gertrude within him. "Yes, I... knew your grandmother, rather well, frankly. I won't say she and I argued over matters that go into storage here verses the Archives, but there certainly were some strongly worded debates over gin. Interesting you find yourself on this side of the pond and... Well, coming to SHIELD. Was this all Martin's idea?" She looks back to her agent with that curious brow again.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin's cheek redden a touch at the slight reprimand. But he's glad that bringing Jon in has the desired effect. At the mention that Peggy knew Jon's Gran and even *worked* with her he gapes. Sure, Peggy Carter was a legend and stories of her exploits could fill volumes, but to think that the rather stern woman who had said that Martin would "make a fine husband for her Jon" had also been on some of those exploits was... astonishing, to say the least.

    At the woman's suggestion that it was all his idea he shifts. "Well... I just thought that we might have more information on just what it is that Jon's supposed to be doing and could maybe provide some... guidance?" That SHIELD did know what the Archivist is hadn't fully occured to him, betting all this on a long shot as he had. But if it worked out? He himself had been at his wits end when his own powers had surfaced and SHIELD had been the guiding influence ever since. Maybe it would be the same sort of thing for Jon?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon looks shaken as he settles fully into the chair. "Wh-th-wait, the Archive is a /physical/ thing too?! I... I mean, I have all this knowledge up in the Astral realm, but there's... there's a /physical/... storage...?" He blinks rapidly, trying to absorb this.

    "Martin," he says, voice a little weak, "I... think we need to speak to the estate lawyer. I suspect all that went to Sasha. Which means... gods know where it is /now/."

    He heaves out a long sigh. "Yes, ahh... I've actually lived in New York for over a decade, but I... I didn't know... Gran never told me much about her life. I saw her once a year at most, less of late. My cousin was supposed to get this whole... responsibility, she's older, she's the one Gran trained, but, ahh. Well. You have Martin's report about how /that/ went." He swallows nervously, reaches up to massage at his throat, where there's still bruising.

    "As for /me/, I'm... a psychiatrist. I have many patients who are, ahh... well, 'superheroes' is the best term." He smiles at Martin. "When I woke up with... well, I'm a telepath now, though I've been learning to control it. I'm learning to do magic spells, I heal more quickly than normal... but when I woke up with all of this, and this divine compulsion from Thoth to /learn/ things... I was a bit of a mess, I'll admit." He coughs. Flushes a bit darker. Maybe still is. /Definitely/ still is.

Peggy Carter has posed:
As Jon mentions that he doesn't have the Archive, something in Peggy's face darkens. It's just a moment, a fierce protectiveness and worry, then she's swept it all behind British calm, but it was there. Fortunately, the tea cart arrives in time to buy them all a few moments to organize their thoughts. Peggy motions to the young agent. "Thank you, you can leave it there. The gunpowder black is steeping, yes? Thank you." And she dismisses the intern. There are two pots of hot water, one smells smoky of a heavy black tea, but there's one of just water and several loose leaves to choose from if the gentleman want something more mild. Cream and sugar as well, of course. "Take your pick, gentleman. This is a conversation that needs tea."

Then she's taken a deep breath and is resetting herself, hands folded neatly in front of her, wedding ring momentarily glimmering under the lights. "Jon. You *need* to find where those Archives have gone. If you trust the power of SHIELD to protect them, we will, but your grandmother was always quite... Stubborn, about making certain the Archive and herself remained independent. That would be my biggest concern about your joining our ranks. My second concern would be... from all I've read, you could do with a psychologist yourself, Sims." She smirks, dark eyes flickering to Martin for back up here.

"And you would be fraternizing with the one psychiatrist we have on staff then. I call in Andrew on occasion, but being married to someone who constantly meets the dangers of SHIELD is... something you must consider, Martin. This is adding danger to your lives, not being protected from it. You understand?"

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin gives Jon a sympathetic look. From what Martin has been able to piece together, Jon is in need of help himself. And perhaps, given the nature of the things SHIELD has worked with, it was safe to say that dealing with PTSD of his level could be handled by their staff. He is also well aware of the danger involved in bringing Jon into the fold.
    As he starts to prepare his own brew, he was fine with the gunpowder black having acquired a taste for it some time ago, he nods. "I understand the danger of us both being in the organisation, Peggy. But I think the benefits of Jon's involvement outweighs the risk to both of us. Some of the things we deal with..." he stirs in cream and two sugars, "it's possible that he could know more than even R & D could in some situations. Isn't that worth it?" He gives his husband a fond smile. "And, if I know nothing else, I know that his heart is in the right place to help."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon reaches for the darker tea, fixes it with a bit of cream and a lot of sugar, murmurs something to himself about mint. But he's listening; he sits back and just... takes in the tea for a long moment. Relaxing, a bit, some of the long-held tension in face and shoulders draining out.

    He takes a long sip and then says, "To address all of that in order: firstly, if there is a physical Archive then my first duty is /absolutely/ to find it and track it down. And that is something I would do regardless; if that's the /only/ thing I take from this conversation it will have been well worth it. My family has safeugarded this knowledge for millenia, and I'm not about to be the Archivist that manages to end that legacy." Something flits through his expression, a hint of guilt, but he takes another sip of tea. Steadying, that.

    "I actually /did/ have a therapist of my own, it's standard practice. Unfortuntely she... is not well-versed in the, ahh, clandestine realm? I've had 'find a new therapist' near the top of my to-do list, but it's been a busy couple of weeks." He sighs. "I'm glad to explain to the degree I can."

    Then he looks to Martin for a moment. "Which... brings me to the last point. I've nearly died three times in the past two weeks. I would rather /not/ be getting in that much danger on a regular basis, but... being the Archivist is as much about experiencing life oneself as it is about gathering Stories from others. I am going to be getting myself into danger regardless." He smirks. "That's the training I'm missing--defending myself when I inevitably find myself in a spot of trouble. I've been lucky enough to be around people who've kept me alive, but I can't depend on that forever."

    After a moment, softly, looking down into his cup, "Martin's right... I /want/ to help, someone, somewhere. I almost... /have/ to. The trouble's been being in a place to do so that isn't..." He frowns, makes an irritated sound, then says, "/chaotic./"

Peggy Carter has posed:
The older woman, who doesn't look near her age at all, listens in silence. She takes her own tea completely black, a woman who was raised on war rations and used to things that taste like nothing or too bitter to live. Now, this is her comfort. She sits back enough she can take in both of them, watching the minute interactions between them as they each speak and building their relationship in her head as much as she is their individual profiles. She gives a small nod of approval to Jonathan's self diagnosis. "We do not have a...full time therapist, but we have one who understands such things. I will introduce you to Andrew no matter what. Just don't bring his name up to Commander May." A little smirk crosses her lips, an inside joke.

Then she lets out a slow breath, leaning forward again. "Martin. You have served as a loyal, good agent since the day I met you. I trust your recommendation when you say this man would be a good agent. We wouldn't be sitting here if I didn't. That being said..." Dark eyes turn to the other, a weight behind her gaze that absolutely looks a very tired 100 years old. "You need to find the Archive, if you can. If you do... And you join SHIELD, then it is under SHIELD's protection. If we need information, you get it for us. If you are threatened, we protect you and it. If we recover other 0-8-4s, what we call items of a supernatural nature, you bring them to me FIRST. Together, we decide where they are stored. But I am still your Chief and that is the lay of the land if you agree to this. Understood?"

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin hadn't expected the Chief to drop the orders so directly, but in this situaiton it doesn't surprise him. If she *has* had intereaction with a previous Archivist, there ins't much more of a dossier he can give her that she doesn't already know. Beyond the make of the man he loves.

    He looks to said man, trying to gauge how Jon would take such a statement. On the one hand, he might like the focused direct approach, but on the other... he could be stubbornly private on certain matters. Where would he fall here was the ultimate question.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon considers that for a long moment, expression thoughtful, his gaze drifting to the window beyond which the landscape of upstate New York can be seen.

    "Gran wouldn't like it," he says after a moment. "She'd insist the Archive stays completely independent. But I think she'd be wrong. We didn't start out that way. The first Archivist wasn't 'the Archivist.' She was, if my dreams are any indication, a scribe in a temple to Naunet. A librarian, given something extra by her god." He smiles, ever-so-slightly. "In time, when in the Lower Nile Thoth took over that function, we became and remain his priests. We once served in the Serapeum in Alexandria, priests of Serapis and Thoth both. We were servants of the Pharoahs and then the kings of Greece. We've always been subject to the powerful."

    He hesitates. "I don't /blame/ Gran for being... obstinant about things. Gods know I have my own issues with problems like American imperialism." A brief smirk, which he lets die swiftly. "But I also know the problem of... of someone thinking themself above things like law and order and submitting to the judgement of those far older and wiser than they are." He doesn't know everything about Peggy Carter, but she /has/ to be older than she looks if she was a friend of Gertrude's.

    "All of which is to say... your terms are more than reasonable. Depending on the idea that every member of one's family will be able to handle the responsibility going down through the ages is how you get problems like Prince Andrew." He says it with a flick of a glance at Martin, like he's subconsciously goading the man, then goes on, "The Archive has come into direct danger from a powerful being of deep evil, and I can only hope Gran saw the threat in time and scattered the physical items she had protection over. I'm not going to be so prideful as to say I'd do any better."

    After a moment, he spreads his hands. "Besides, in all honesty it's possible Thoth has led me here to ensure the Archive remains safe. So, yes, SHIELD could take the Archive into safekeeping, at least for so long as SHIELD exists. In a few hundred years I'm sure some other family member will have to re-visit the arrangement." He smirks.

Peggy Carter has posed:
It's likely the psychiatrist is going to read the microexpression on Peggy Carter's face easier than the agent does, but it's there. For just a flicker of a heartbeat, Peggy Carter is utterly gobsmacked. Shocked from head to toe. And then she blinks, tucks it away, and her smile grows by just a few millimeters. She gives them a husky voiced chuckle, leaning back in her seat and taking a long sip of her still hot tea before she crosses her legs, getting more comfortable than before.

"...Well then, welcome aboard. There is going to be a lot of training, mandatory psychological and physical evaluations, probably ordered therapy, and then basic training. But I'll approve you to start as soon as you are ready. I take it you don't need quarters here?" She motions up towards the building behind her.

"We do offer couples quarters, slightly larger than your standard issue. I know my husband and I normally opt to drive back to Long Island but... sometimes it's nice after a long day." She grins a bit more. Martin's never really heard her speak of her husband before, but there is a certain bonding that comes couple to couple. She understands why the other man went through what he did for Jonathan. "Are there any other questions I can answer from... Either of you? I know we do not get to speak much, Martin, but it is always lovely to see your face."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin blinks and looks to Jon. "That's... that's it?" he says a laugh escaping him before he sips his tea. "I... I thought it would be more... I don't know difficult?" he says, looking at Jon and then at Peggy. "Oh... no we have a flat in Queens. Bit of a drive, but I don't mind." He relaxes considerably.

    "I admit that speaking with you has felt... I don't know daunting at times, Peggy. You're reputation alone is intimidating, but after meeting you directly it just impressed on me the strength of the woman behind the legend and made you more..." He searches for a word. "I guess, real if the best word for it. But... this has been quite refreshing, and to be frank, it's put a lot of my worries at ease concerning Jon and his place in the world as Archivist."

    He gives the man another fond smile. "I didn't want him to be alone in his work any longer."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon quirks a brow at Peggy for a smoment, and then hazards a guess when he says, "As people have been reminding me of late... I am not my grandmother. For once I suppose that's a good thing." He sighs.

    "Another place to stay might be... beneficial? Too many people know where we live. I..." He rolls his shoulders, frowns a bit. "I'm getting paranoid," he admits. "Worrying about someone trying to kill me for the past couple of weeks has been... an experience."

    He hesitates, then says, "One question--how does SHIELD take involvement in other... ahh... I know other people in this... I know superheroes. What does SHIELD think of involvement in other... organizations? Does it depend on the particular... disposition?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
With Martin's words about Jonathan being alone, a slightly sad smile flickers across Peggy's features. "Well, I cannot promise it's like having a world government or even a large family at your back. SHIELD stands alone in that no, we aren't controlled by any Imperialist, or otherwise, power. Which means, when we do things they do not like, we don't have their back up either. Just because this building lives on American soil does *not* mean we are American, and I will burn it to the ground and move to Fiji before I let the US government think that. But we are still an... organization. Decisions have to be made on a professional basis, not a personal one. It's a difficult line to walk. Especially with someone you love... " The pad of her thumb lightly toys with her own wedding ring for a heartbeat or two, lost in thoughts, but she shakes it off. "Still, it is better than no one. And we do understand the... Value of something like the Archive. And the need for it to be sacrosanct."

Then she's looking back to Jonathan, her face going a little closed off as he mentions participating in other organizations. "First, we can arrange temporary quarters for you here, if nothing else. There is also a guest room at our house, but Long Island is a long ways. Still, if you need to hunker down somewhere, you both would be welcome. Second..." Peggy sighs, taking another sip of her tea, she's nearly finished by now and reaching for a second pour of the stuff. "SHIELD comes first. You do not take orders from anyone else and you will have to report things you are doing with them if we ask. I cannot control what you do in your off hours but I can certainly frown sternly about it. Understood?"

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin knew that the standard protocol for SHIELD was 'SHIELD comes first.' He also knew that Jon had something of a falling out with Constantine's crew. But maybe...Being a spy has changed Martin's perspective on the subject of "cordial espionage." Before joining SHIELD (and for a while after, even) spying on the Night Brigade, as they were so called, would've been abhorent, but given the things he's heard from his husband about their actions... having an in *might* be beneficial to SHIELD. He takes another sip of his tea, he would not suggest such a thing without Jon's prompting, though.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon smirks. "I'm glad to hear that. I hear Fiji's a lovely place, though." He sighs, and nods. "But yes, professional ethics are /very/ important to me. That's why I asked. I..."

    He hesitates a moment, then leans forward. "Martin has dedicated his life to SHIELD, and though I don't know... well, much of anything that he does, I know that he's keeping the world safe. And that... that is what I want to do. To /help/. On a personal level, not as the Archivist, I just..." He heaves a breath. "I do better with clearly defined rules. Ethics and procedures. Knowing that I can trust those in charge. I... in truth I was considering trying to figure out how to contact you even before Martin turned out to be alive. I want to help, I /need/ to help, but I have seen where vigilantism gets people. I know the need for the checks and balances even of an extra-governmental agency. So you, and SHIELD, will have my full loyalty, Peggy."

    He sits back a bit. "The group in question... I was pulling away from regardless. They are a group who fights supernatural threats and... believes themselves the only ones who do so. It's all been too chaotic, and..." He shakes his head. "If you want me to, ahh, stick around and keep an eye on them for you I can, though." That's what spies do, right? Spy on people?

Peggy Carter has posed:
A crack of a wry smile crosses Peggy's ever-red lips as Jonathan suggests that. She shakes her head lightly, "Jonathan, let's perhaps get past basic training before becoming a double agent, hmm? We have eyes and ears many places. I know of this group. I worry for the day they foolishly get someone killed. I just intend to make certain that someone isn't *you*." She looks at Martin as she says that a bit longer than his husband, as if she were making a promise to the man. "But I appreciate the earnesty. And yes. We have rules. It's myself, and the Directors, but you won't see them much. Generally... it's my office, the door is open, and we're here to save the world. Sounds like a good deal, right?" Peggy grins.

"Well, if there is nothing else, I can get you gents set up with some quarters here and personnel for training dates to start and all your intake exams, Jonathan. Martin, I trust you will be keeping a mentorship role to the man for this moment? Considering what you have been through, I would not wish to leave his side long either, so we might as well put it on the books..."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin nods. "If that is alright with you, Chief Carter?" he asks. The shift in tone was enough indication for him to shift his address to the woman. "I understand that the threat of being compromised is there, but I will maintain a professional distance in his training, should you permit it."

    To be fair, he had been training Jon in some things before his greatly exaggerated demise. He looks to Jon. "A place here at headquarters is a good idea, now that I think on it. More chance to focus on moving forward with... well everything." SHIELD did have resources that were not available at home after all. And it was a neutral ground for them, without the pain of their losses hanging in the air.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon laughs. "Oh good lord, thank you. I didn't /really/ want to... try, but..." He shrugs, looking vaguely embarassed, glances aside at Martin almost shyly. Takes a long drink of his tea, to cover it. Yes, he /looks/ older than Peggy, but in this world he's quite new and he knows it. "I can... accept that, training. Same as it ever was, hmm?"

    He hesitates. Clears his throat. "There's... one other thing. I can make a fuller report if you like, but..." He takes in a long, slow breath. Lets it out. "I've run into an artifact of the First Men. It's... incredibly dangerous, a tome of dark necromancy, now in the hands of a woman who is... also quite dangerous. I..." He glances aside to Martin. "I would prefer to keep the personal details to official reports, and I don't want to betray the trust of the man who asked for my help, but in all honesty I've been trying to think of /someone/ else who could at least..."

    He hesitates. "I was going to tell Martin," he says. "I was just... working myself up to it." The tone in which he speaks of it all... something /bad/ happened there, personally bad, and he has that haunted look people get when they've run into something over their head and traumatic and they're still dealing with it all.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peg is about to get up and move to get them some quarters, when Jonathan makes another announcement. She pauses, resets her shoulders, re-pours herself more tea, and then looks back to Martin. "Is he always like this?" She asks, deadpan flat, before then gaze back to Jonathan. "... yes. This is something we should be concerned with and I would prefer if that artifact was in *our* storage. So, I expect a full report. You can... *should* tell Martin as well, but this needs passed up the line to be handled properly. What were your plans here? To run off after it alone? What *is* it?"

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin nods in response to Jon's habit of dropping things when conversations seem almost over. "More than you know..." He smiles though and frowns as Jon explains. "That's... not good at all. And... you really shouldn't go after something like that without help, love." He sounded alarmed. "I mean, at least let *me* help you." He sips his tea, finishing the cup in the process and moves to pour another cup, though his fear for his husband does cause his hands to shake just a touch while pouring the cream.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon flusters at Peggy and Martin both. "/Alone/?! I wasn't going to--mother of the Heavens, no, I've been /trying/ to figure out who to tell about it that can be trusted with the thing! I was called in on a consult with Zatanna Zatara, for..." He hesitates. Glances at Martin. Sighs.

    "Sorry, Tim," he mutters, then says, "Tim Drake. Tim /Wayne/. It's to do with his family history, so I have been attempting to be... circumspect. He is a friend, and stumbled on something awful in his family home." He frowns briefly. "SHIELD storage is better than some mine shaft in China, but the thing /will/ try to get out, it's... conscious, somehow. It's called the Iron-Bound Book of Skelos, and it's precisely that--a book bound in iron, the lock possessed by what might be a demon. It contains secrets of the First Men, from before humanity, terrible things that could raise armies of the dead and destroy the world. It is older than homo sapiens as a species and merely touching it hurt Zed--Ms. Zatara. It's currently in the hands of a woman named either Sophia Cobb or Sophia Crowne. She... used me to open the book." His jaw clenches, shifts; he's /not/ looking at anyone. "And then... I was forced to read portions of it. So if SHIELD knows a way to scrub information out of a person's head I would be /very/ grateful, because /no one/ should know these things." He stops, and drains the tea cup all in one go; there was about half left. "See? I wasn't lying when I said it's been a busy couple of weeks. I shouldn't be allowed outside without a chaperone."

    He bites that off, hard. Self-deprecation is useless and he knows it, by his glower. "My apologies." His tone is clipped, though the irritation is turned inward. "It was... a difficult experience."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The older woman listens with perfect calmness on her features. Peggy Carter is a woman who has heard MANY strange things before, and this is just adding to the pile. But she's also stiffer backed and her hands are a bit more tight around her tea mug. At the end of his story, her lips press in a tighter line. "Well, now that your are a probationary agent, you will NOT be allowed out into such things without a chaperone. Welcome to being a rookie. Don't get yourself killed." She flatly responds.

Then she's looking back to Martin, "This is a challenge. If you are both going in after this...thing again, I understand why I cannot just send other agents. I want you to go with him and, if you can, take a third agent. Recover the 0-8-4. We bring it here. I will worry about storing it, we've had... " Her nose screws up in disappointment for a moment, "Challenges before. We will face this one as well. And I will talk to our neurologists. We may be able to... clear that part of your mind. If you actually mean that. For now, don't. Go. Alone. Not just to this. To ANYTHING. Understood?"

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin had already been on the team to recover one 0-8-4, but this one sounded a lot more intense than a particle beam weapon. He looks to Jon and nods. "After engaging in the mission in Boston I saw a number of agents who might be helpful, but..." he frowns to Jon. "I will have to speak with Mr. Drake about the level of discretion he wishes to employ."

    "Clearly, if this is a family matter keeping it contained will likely be a priority of his and cooperation with the civilians involved"--for that is what Tim and Zatanna were in this, civilains--"does have to be managed." He looks to Peggy. "Permission to engage in recon before looking for further asssistance from witin, ma'am?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon puts his teacup down and then puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender, eyes wide. Martin's professional, but Jon's not quite there yet. "I won't. I didn't! I wasn't alone. But you mean another SHIELD agent, of course. I /won't/. I understand." His expression and tone is firm, even if his eyes are still very wide. "The experience showed me how much training I /don't/ have."

    He puts his hands down. "I /absolutely/ mean it. If I know it, then it's in the Archive, and my successor knows it. And it should not be known. It should be buried in the deepest vault you have and left there to rot for all eternity."

    After a moment, "...That's all. I swear. Nothing else of import to declare." He looks almost sheepish. He keeps looking at Martin sidelong, though, not in /surprise/ so much as consideration. It's a side of the man he hasn't really seen much of.

Peggy Carter has posed:
A deep sigh escapes Peggy's lips as she sinks back in her chair, simply staring at the men. She lets them both hang on string for a few heartbeats, finishing her now third cup of tea and keeping her dark eyes on them over the rim of her mug. Finally, once they've both sweat enough, she gives a small nod. "Martin, I expect a full report and if Mr. Drake is stubborn about this, we *will* send in other agents. The protection of the world is more important than his pride. But you may recon first. Permission granted. Keep me updated."

Then it's over to Jonathan, her eyes narrowing a heartbeat or two. She looks grim at the thought of erasing something from somebody's mind. "...there are... Possibilities. Not ones I like to use, Sims. But, I'll check with our neuroscientists and if there is a way to do it without risking permanent, long term damage to your psyche on TOP of what you've already done to it, I'll have medical set up an appointment."
5rHer mug is then set down and she unfolds from the table, hands resting palm flat on the desk, "If there truly is nothing else, you both are dismissed. Blackwood, I recommend you taking him to the food court, I suspect you both need more food than you are getting. Quarters will be ready for you by this evening. If I don't get full reports about this all, I *will* be knocking on your doors. Is that settled, gentlemen?"

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    "Thank you, ma'am" Martin says as he rises from his chair. "I will. On all counts." He gives the woman a smile, perhaps for the stern if affectionate care about their diets that might give more of her actual age than appearances gave. He gestures for Jon to follow him. "I can give you a quick tour of the place on the way to the cafeteria" he says before he starts out.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon follows Martin's suit as he stands. "The protection of the world is more important than my psyche, Chief Carter," he murmurs. And surely Peggy Carter is good enough at reading people to know he /means/ that. He has the appropriate self-sacrificial 'follow my duty' streak in him, at least. Terrific.

    "Thank you, for the..." Opportunity? Trust? "Thank you," he repeats, simply. And then turns to nod to Martin, looking... well, he's the tallest person in the room and yet somehow he manages to look small. He definitely needs more food. Probably sleep.