8465/Meet the Scrubs

Meet the Scrubs
Date of Scene:	28 October 2021
Location:	Food Court: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Jon and Martin head to the food court as order by Chief Carter, and run into a variety of other SHIELD agents. Sam Wilson, Jessica Drew, Michael Erickson, and Jane Foster are all there, and they discuss various matters over food.
Cast of Characters:	Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims, Sam Wilson, Jessica Drew, Michael Erickson, Jane Foster

---

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin's tour of the SHIELD HQ finishes at the Food Court. Being instructed by the Chief to get food means *you get food.* "And here we are. It's a 24 hour buffet since some of our agents come back in from missions at strange hours." He smiles at Jon. There had been a number of times that he had come home at strange hours on some of those very missions.

    "From personal experience, I can say the pot roast is supurb" he says as he leads them both toward the line of dishes set out for the day. "They have a decent curry--Indian, Thai, and Japanese--from time to time, but it's not as much a staple." He grabs two trays and two plates, offering one of each to the taller man.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "What, all three at once?" Jon quips. He's been mostly quiet through the tour of the facility, clearly mulling something over, but he doesn't need to be paying direct attention to be paying attention; he'll remember the layout perfectly next time he's here. He takes the tray and plate and ponders the buffet for a moment before shrugging and getting curry and rice. The Indian sort, of course. 'Decent' curry in Martin's eyes could be 'nearly inedible' in Jon's, after all. Martin has, in his experience, some very weird opinions on food.

    The man likes /pickles/, for God's sake.

    "Does she always treat everyone like they're her grandchildren? The Chief, I mean." He's ladling vegetables onto his plate alongside curry and rice and rolls, because Peggy Carter very much reminds him of /both/ of his grandmothers, and they'd have yelled at him for not eating vegetables.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    The person ahead of Jon and Martin in the line holds everything up for a few moments, as he's having an animated discussion with the SHIELD cafeteria worker on the other side of the buffet. Well, he's holding it up because he's waiting on said worker to put out a new dish of fried eggplant, which is only good when it's fresh, naturally.

    But he's also asking after the worker's progress through her book. Apparently she's writing a children's book, and she's slowed down on dishing out said eggplant while she explains her struggles in finding a professional cartoonist to do the artwork.

    Sam commiserates with her a little bit, asks after her nephew, who was in the hospital (pneumonia--good news, he's recovered) and then he looks back behind him. "Oh, man--sorry about that. Finally wrapped up de-brief for a night op, I'm going to blame my situational awareness being shot on that." He picks up his tray and walks backwards so that he can wave Martin and Jon through, ahead of him. "Jenny put out almond cookies down at the end, you have to try them," Sam points out. And then he steps back in for a little bit more fried eggplant. It's fresh!

Jessica Drew has posed:
    A tall, slender woman dark-haired women in the ubiquitous black business suit favored by agents joins the stream of personnel picking up trays and going to their favorite food station. SHIELD agents eat so well compared to other government agencies.

    The middle eastern dishes send out a call for her today so she skirts the pile-up around the fried eggplant, not without a smile for the ever affable Sam, asking after an employee's relative. A look at the dish being served makes her reconsider the move because it is not something served frequently and to all appearances the staff know what they are doing.

    But for now, hummous, labne, tabouleh for the vitamins and fresh taste, kafta and mannakish. Several hours in the gym have revved her appetite into high gear. Tray in hand she explores the seating options and decides that some time with Sam and the new man she was on ops with recently would make for a great lunch.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin nods. "The few times I've spoken with her in a less than professional situation, yes. She does often treat us all as her grandchildren, because aside from a few of us we are all young enough to be." He piles a few hearty foods on his plate. Pot roast, green beans, scalloped potatoes.

    He gives Jon a smile at the man's choice. Of course. "You will find that the variety here is pretty wide. Sometimes it's together, sometimes cuisine of Asia gets takes over the entire place. But like you can see... today it's just the Indian variety." After noticing Sam and Jessica he gives them both friendly nods and moves to take a seat at one of the round tables.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon rolls his eyes. "It was a /joke/, Martin." There's only a tiny bite there. He's been gone for a month, did he forget what Jon's jokes sound like?

    He actually hesitates long enough to get fried eggplant himself, because fried eggplant is /good/. And then he's blinking at Sam as he moves around them. "Wait, don't I..." He's frowning in that 'I recognize you' way, as he steps away from the line, evidently content with what's on his plate. And of course Falcon is publically known and everything, but... that's not what he says at all.

    "Sam Wilson, right? You put up that paper on the impact of meta-power development in children? Reno, I think, right?"

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "Hey Jess!" Sam calls out, and the smile she sends his way is swiftly returned with one from him. She's further ahead on the buffet line than him, but he makes a mental note to try and snag a seat with her if there's room. But now he needs to choose his various accoutrements for his fried eggplant. Rice is obviously the natural first choice, so he backtracks for that.

    He pauses with the rice paddle in his hands as Jon's attention moves to him, and he tips his head to one side. People usually manage to work their way around to recognizing the Falcon after a little while, so he's used to the waiting game. But then that's not at all what Jon says. Sam blinks at the man a couple of times, before he narrows his eyes.

    "Silverman. No." He starts to point at Jon with the rice paddle before he realizes what he's doing, and returns it to its place in the cooker. "Sims? Jonathan Sims!"

    Now he's just pointing at Jon normally. "You were talking about petitioning the APA to include demonic possessions as a form of psychosis on the DSM-5."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Other agents flow around Jessica with hellos and excuse me as she waits for Sam to pick a place to perch. She overhears the mention of public papers between him and someone wearing a recruit's badge. Likely more WAND folk. They have been piling on lately as the fear of revealing themselves to the government seems to have eased. She understands their reluctance, mutants of any kind hadn't been living the easy life either.

She heads to the roundtable that Blackwood put his tray down on, assuming they would be eating in a group.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    At some point, a trim man in a gray suit has arrived, trading on the anonymitity of such fellows and their blandly handsome ilk in this building to let him move largely unremarked upon into the luncheon queue. ERICKSON, the placard reads around his neck, though alas, he won't be unidentified for long once those at Blackwood's table and other fellows spot him. For the moment, he is happy to just stand in line, one more in the chow line, peering at what warms beneath the sneeze guards.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin grins and nods. He had hoped the pair at the buffet line would know each other. He lets them get reintroductions out of the way before smiling at Jessica as she approaches. His nod to sit is inviting. "My husband" he says, nodding in Jon's direction. "Has decided to join us. Just got through talking to the Chief about it and she was..." a pause, "more than happy to accept his application."

    He starts in on his vegetables. He was the type of person who eats one thing at a time, even if they are all on the same plate. Just a habit of his. "How've you been since Boston?" he asks. Michael's arrival is met with a flick of observant eyes and he smiles a bit more. Looks like the entire mission crew might be likely to show up.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "No, no, no," Jon says swiftly. "No, I'm petitioning to add 'demonic possession' as a differential diagnosis. We're /literally/ sending people to inpatient wards who are /actually/ dealing with magic and demons. There's nothing wrong with their mental health--or, well, in some cases they're developing PTSD from their experiences--but they don't need to be /re-traumatized/ by the psychiatric profession for what they've gone through." There's something stridently passionate in his tone, as if this is /personally/ upsetting to him.

    He hesitates. Flushes a bit darker. Clears his throat. "Sorry. Ahh. Yes. Yes, I'm... /that/ Jonathan Sims. I think I still owe you twenty dollars for those taquitos and margaritas, don't I?"

    He's followed Martin to the table as he talked, walking backwards and then turning to sit down next to him with a bit of a huff. Then he... actually goes to pull out his wallet to find that twenty.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jessica's glances up at the man Blackwood introduces as his husband with a welcoming smile, watching with a humorous lift of an eyebrow as he settles up an old debt. As she had suspected, WAND is waxing. She looks over at Sam wondering about the conference they referred to.

"I had no idea that you attended psychiatric conferences Sam? Not that I have precis on every agent I go on missions with," she says with a disarming shrug and a glance over her shoulder, checking on Michael's progress through the line.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Though Sam might have plenty of friends in WAND (and an Asgardian God and legitimate witch as teammates in the Avengers) he gets that vaguely confused look that most normal--or rather, non-magical--folk get when presented with information their brain just refuses to process. "Right," he says though, because Sam is always one to just roll with the punches. "Well, we all know the APA works at the speed of snail."

    He gets his plate loaded up with a few other things, notably a couple of Jenny's almond cookies as a dessert treat, and then Sam looks over his shoulder. "Don't worry about it--you can just pick up my tab next time we go out for nacho night post-mission sometime."

    Sam is clearly not worried about it. He grabs a bottle of cold coffee before he takes a seat at the table that they're all gathering at, next to Jess. "Not as much as I'd like to," he says to her. "Hard to find time for professional development for my day job in-between everything else, but you gotta get your CEs in." He looks over, spotting another familiar face from the recent Boston mission, and waves at Michael.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Burgers. Four of these Michael extracts from their heated bin, along with a couple bottles of whole milk - King of Protein is he, and he is soon free from the line and nodding to people as he wanders near the agents' collective table. "Hello, Agents," Michael offers, nodding to the collective. "I hope all is well." He lingers, but that badge reads 'VISITOR'. Total scrub! Not at the cool kids' table.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin gestures to one of the empty seats. "Have a seat. Anyone who survives a burning boat with me is free to share a table with me" he says as he takes another bite of green beans.

    "We have nacho nights?" he asks Sam with a curiously arched brow. "That's... news to me. Not that I'm against it" he adds, his tone a little defensive. "Just... didn't know it was a thing." He seems genuinely pleased that everyone it taking Jon's presence so well.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon peers at his wallet and mutters, "Well, good, because I appear to have run through all my cash." He winces and glances at Martin, briefly, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. Then he puts his wallet away and goes to start eating the curry. Pauses, and blinks down at the plate. It appears to be edible, because he goes ahead and keeps eating it.

    In between bites, he says, "Ahh, yes, I'm Jonathan Sims. The Archivist." He takes a deep breath. He needs to learn to control saying that. "And... new." He makes a bit of a face, and indicates his 'RECRUIT' badge. The grey streaks in his hair make him look like he must be at least in his mid-30s; rather old for a new recruit, which probably explains the grimace. "And, yes, I'm Martin's husband." He says that easily; it's clearly not a new thing.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "Since I came back from my leave of absence," Sam confirms, regarding nacho night. Which was semi-recently, so it's a fairly new thing. "I'll put the invite on your calendar." Surely they have some sort of digital calendar that can be used to schedule meetings. They don't work in corporate America but the structure is still there.

    He cuts into one of the eggplant patties with the side of his fork as he nods up to Michael, joining them. "Just stopped in to eat something before I head out," he reports. Which probably accounts for the bottle of coffee on his tray, despite how he's visibly a little run-down. Post-mission crashes are a real thing, but Sam has to face midday NYC traffic before he can make it to his bed.

    When Jon announces his relation to Martin, Sam looks up from his plate. "No way! Small world. Are you joining the medical team?" he asks.

Jessica Drew has posed:
    "Coulson and that crew started it. The Junk Food and beer crowd," the woman agent says, grinning with amusement. Eyeing Michael's tray, "You would fit right in. Remind me and we will do a nachos night, Michael. I work with Michael, by the way. He can tell you about himself. Officially, I'm his handler."

     With a bright smile, "Hello. Very nice to meet you, Jonathan, I'm Jessica Drew." She would offer her hand but it is awkward across the table. "I met your husband recently." She pauses, "Archivist? I take it that's not for SHIELD?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I need a lot of protein," Michael points out to Jessica as he stands by the table, not yet sitting down. He looks between the faces there, and once bidden by Jess to talk about himself, he favors his handler with a nod.

    "Good evening," he offers to the rest of them at the table. "I am Cal'hatar of Chandilar, Officer Third Magnitude of the Shi'ar Imperial military. Retired," he adds with a chuckle. "But on this planet I go by Michael Erickson. I am pleased to make your collective acquaintence."

    Dude you just tore open a ship with most of these people. Jeez.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin had finished his green beans and was starting in on his potatoes as Erickson introduces himself formally. "That explains the red suit" he says with a nod. "I thought the configuration looked familiar from datafiles." He glances at Jon, knowing that Michael is the man's first experience with an honest to goodness alien and smiles softly before looking over at Sam. "That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about, Sam" he holds up a finger, "But... I think we might need to wait for just a moment."

    He knows his husband well. Jessica's question about the Archivist as well as Michael's very *presence* at the table might put any questions aside for a decent sized moment. He takes a sip of water and just waits for it.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon... gapes at Michael for a moment, fork halfway to his mouth. It's rude, he /knows/ it's rude, but this is quite literally the first alien that he's ever met (that he knows of).

    Then the questions start:
    "You're not human? Is that your real form or a disguise? How long have you been on Earth? You and your people must be trustworthy if you're with SHIELD, what do you think of--"

    And then he stops, slamming his mouth shut. After a moment, "Ahh. Sorry. I. You don't have to answer. I... don't know if I'm joining the medical team, per se? 'The Archivist' is a hereditary title that I inherited from my grandmother. I am a servant of the Egyptian god Thoth, tasked with collecting experiences and stories for the Archive. Hence the, ahh. Invasive questions." His /entire/ face has flushed darker, he's clearly embarassed by being so damn rude. "But, umm, well, part of my joining up involves giving caretaking of the physical bits of the Archive to SHIELD, so. I guess it does, now?" That to Jessica's question, and then he busies himself with eating rice.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    With all the casual acceptance of a man used to accepting the presence of the Big Three in his life--that's androids, aliens, and wizards for the uninitiated--Sam sets his fork down so that he can offer Michael a casual wave before he cracks open his coffee. "Pleasure to meet you, Michael. I'm Sam Wilson." Then he adds, "Falcon on the comms for the Boston mission."

    He ackowledges the conversation put off for later with a quick nod to Martin, and he takes a long drink of his coffee, though he's peering over the top of the glass bottle at Jon as he does so. "My brain immediately went to the warehouse from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Is that the kind of thing you're talking about?" At this point Sam's confused enough about the whole gods thing, what with hanging out with Thor, that he doesn't even ask for clarification on that point. He just accepts that it's beyond him.

    Instead, he looks at Jess. "It's not junk food, it's *comfort* food." Though he's not really offended for being lumped into that crowd. The man does love himself a good craft beer, after all.

Jessica Drew has posed:
    Jessica sighs at Michael's formality with affectionate resignation and starts in on her food. Yes, he is from another planet. She puts her fork down to flip a thumb in Cal'hatar of Chandilar's direction with an impish grin. Her British accent coming to the fore as she says primly, "We do not do Mork and Mindy for your information."

    Jessica mirrors Jon's surprise at aliens when he mentions the Egyptian god. "Thoth? Ye gods, I thought you were British. Are you Egyptian, by birth, then, Jon?"

     With the alacrity of the starving she returns to her plate. "I'm so hungry I'm surprised I didn't knock people down getting to the food. These people rock whatever they decide to do," she explains while piling hummous on her flatbread. "The nachos are great, I understand."

    After a bite, she nods at Jonathan, her eyes twinkling kindly, "He rather solicits that kind of reaction though I was inclined to be hard on him at first." She throws a meaningful look in Michael's direction. "But then again so I imagine you do, too." She chuckles. "Not a hard reaction, but surprise."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I am not human," Michael offers the other fellow, giving Jonathan an indulgent smile as the questions come. "And this is how I normally look - well, mostly, I'm supposed to have feathers instead of hair on my head. I've been on this planet since 1975, and I am here because I turned against my people recently after forty-seven years as an intelligence operative originally monitoring the Kree and then later the general activities of the so-called superhero movement." A beat. "But given that my people are collectively a militaristic, expansionist government akin to your Romans that has existed for thousands of years in a totally different galaxy, I ended up going native and deciding that they need to be told 'no' and now I'm a traitor to the Empire." Another smile as he looks among the collective. "May I sit?"

    He gives Sam a polite nod. "Yes, I'm aware. I've watched your career with some interest the last few years, Agent."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin's eyes widen, realizing he is sort of the host as the man who sat down first. "Oh, yes. Please. By all means, sit sit. Like I said, you and I went through a burning boat together you have every right to sit with us as far as I am concerned. Visitor badge or no." He smiles and eats more of his potatoes.

    "Soooort of?" he puts in to Sam's question about the Archive. He'll let Jon explain further since it *is* his fully. "Another thing to discuss later though... since we, well..." He shrugs and looks to Jon.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "/Feathers/," Jon says, eyes widening a little. Then, deadpan, "...You do know /America/ is a militaristic, expansionist government akin to our Romans, yes? Not that SHIELD is, ahh, 'American government,' I'm just saying." He grins. "Of course, we were too, once upon a time. Rule Brittania, and all. That sort of thing seems endemic to... sentient life, I guess? But, ahh, well. On behalf of nobody but myself, welcome."

    He looks to Jessica. "Egyptian on my mother's side. Irish and Indian on my father's," he explains, gesturing to his curry with his fork. "I was born in Bournemouth, though." That explains the accent, then; he has the 'posh' sound that's native to Southern England. "My grandmother was the Archivist before I was, and evidently had dealings with SHIELD. I wasn't even supposed to /be/ the Archvist, but... well, it's a long story. Suffice it to say, I don't really have the right training." He gestures to Sam. "You could even be right--the Archive /might/ be a big Raiders-style warehouse. Who knows but that Gran's got the Ark of the Covenant locked away in there somewhere, although I think it'd have been my great-grandfather keeping it from the Nazis." He grins.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    When Jon starts in on America, former Airman Sam Wilson has the poor timing to be mid-drink. So he chokes on a mouthful of coffee, but somehow manages to swallow it all down before he finds himself staring at his tray. After a moment, he gestures wordlessly over to Jon in a sort of 'Well, you said it' kind of gesture.

    Sam has Opinions, too, though he tends to keep his small talk out of the Bermuda Triangle of Inappropriate Workplace Conversation Topics (that would be money, politics, and religion).

    "The food here *is* great, so long as you know what to get," he says to Jess, clearly agreeing. And keeping himself to a nice, safe topic. He sets his silverware down, having cleared his plate with the kind of rapid studiousness of someone from the military who knows it might be anything from hours to days before he gets another hot meal. It's just the lauded almond cookies that remain. "Oh, thanks. To be honest, when I went back to being a civilian I never expected I'd be doing any of," Sam gestures loosely to their surroundings. "This. But it is ridiculously difficult to say no to Steve Rogers." He grumbles good-naturedly about that last bit.

Jessica Drew has posed:
    Jessica giggle-snorts at the image of a grandmother keeping the Arc of the Covenant. She considers Jon speculatively a moment before saying, "I wonder if she met Agent Coulson or Commander Carter?" Then nods, "Ah, I thought you were Southern, my parents were from Oxford, but I didn't grow up in England," explaining her accent. "We have quite the warehouse, you'll get that information in orientation. Especially you WAND types hang out around there." Returning to something Jon said, "Not meant to be the Archivist?"

    Not fearing to tread where angels don't, Jessica tosses out, lifting her chin in Michael's direction, "It's why he is so comfortable around us. His people put the Romans to shame."

    Coming to Sam's rescue, "So are you a practicing therapist, Sam? I take it Jon might be if you both met at a conference."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "America as a nation is a fine institution," Michael replies to the Archivist's assertaion. "On paper - or vellum, as it were. Democracy is a brave thing. But unfortunately it was also founded on slavery and sexism and over time and now most Americans are too busy trying to squeeze a profit out of colonialism to actually /colonize/. Militant expansionism is a feudal game, not a democratic one. Not when you wish to do it well." A flicker of a smile. "The dehumanization - so to speak - is already baked into the fabric of the entire system."

    He unwraps the first burger, then, and starts in like Sam does. Apparently Agent Wilson is indeed not the only soldier in the field.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon doesn't miss the choking on the coffee, but files it away for later. /He/ isn't afraid to voice his Opinions, though he's also always bracing himself for someone to argue with him. He probably stands out in Sam's mind for a shouting match with someone from the APA at that Reno conference. So maybe it's not surprising that he says, "I believe in democracy, and I love America or I wouldn't be here. You all had the good sense to dispense with the hereditary aristocracy centuries ago. But..." He sighs, and glances down at his hands. His /very/ brown hands. "America can be... well. /People/ can be..."

    Then he shakes himself, and as if /firmly/ changing the subject, he says, "I... don't know what you mean, WAND types?" Or Sam could talk about being a therapist, you know, safe topics.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Don't mind Sam. He's just keeping his head down over here, going to town on those almond cookies. Jenny really knows what she's doing in the kitchen, no doubt about that. It's not that he isn't listening, it's just. Senior Agent at the table. He won't tell anyone what they can and cannot discuss, but he has to hold himself to some level of decorum.

    At least until it's Nacho Night and he's three margaritas deep.

    "I'm a counselor at a school in New York," he confirms for Jessica's sake--and maybe a little bit of his own. Because Sam would very much like to join in on the conversation, but dammit, professionalism! He settles the various detritus of his meal onto his tray and starts to stand up. "Which, speaking of, I have a few standing appointments tomorrow morning while the kids aren't in class, so I need to get back and crash for a solid 12 or so hours beforehand. It was nice meeting you Michael, Jon--Martin, put something on my calendar for what you wanted to discuss, okay?" He's already on the move. "See you later, Jess!" He even ducks back in towards the buffet line to say goodbye to Jenny.

    And maybe take a couple of cookies for the road.

Jessica Drew has posed:
    Jessica latches on to Jon's question but not before nudging him for more of an explanation. "Thoth picked you? Your grandmother picked you? Or?"

    Skirting politics, not that SHIELD would be breathing down her neck if she shared their opinions. She fixed her eyes on Michael, trying not to grin, "Do you know Robin Williams? Do you get his humor? We really could do Mork and Mindy, though you'd need to start doing coke to be as maniacal as Williams."

    She picks up a piece of flatbread and and waves, calling after the departing Agent,, "See you for nacho night, Sam."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Pausing in mid-bite, Michael looks up from his burger to lift his brows at Jessica - and then, in a very low, matter-of-fact sort of voice, he intones: 'Nanu nanu.'

Jane Foster has posed:
    Plenty of lovely people working in the Triskelion keep odd hours. Increasing numbers of them try to sneak away rather than spend their pre-Hallowe'en weekend bent over monitors, filing folders or cross-referencing documents. Jane is, by nature, one of those people usually spotted more at night than day because, surprise, astrophysicist. The whole 'astronomer' part of her job functions better when the sky darkens and the world opens up to her. She carries a heavy burden; an empty cup for her tea and a tablet that absolutely refuses to work.

    Bit of a bloody problem when it comes to tapping into certain databases and prod at the multi-day number crunching several supercomputers perform for her. Or to keep tabs on Matlab not doing its work at all. Bypassing a few coworkers brings her flat into the food court, and spotting a few friendly faces therein. The tablet practically gets tossed into her bag and she veers towards Jessica, since she is calling out about nacho night.

    "Sign me up. I'll bring the best chips!"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon waves to Sam as he goes, frowning. He files /that/ away too and focuses on his food for a moment.

    And then almost chokes on his rice, trying not to laugh at Michael. "Well," he says. "At least you have good humor about the situation. I wouldn't suggest cocaine, however."

    He eyes Jessica then. She's not going to give up on this, is she? "I..." he sighs. He was trying to /avoid/ talking about or thinking about this. "My cousin arranged to have my grandmother killed. That's unforgivable in the eyes of /ma'at/, the, ahh, particular... ethical system we follow. So the gods skipped her and gave the power to me. I... think. I'm still figuring it out, myself. But really, what is WAND? Or is that, ahh, information a recruit isn't privy to?"

    The question trails off as someone else approaches the table and he looks up and over.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"I will let the experts answer that question,Jon. Hello Jane, come sit with us!" Jess answers still grinning and recovering from her delighted surprise at Michael's comeback. She pushes her mostly finished plate away from her.

"Jane Foster, have you met Jon Sims yet? He might be in your section if my guess is right."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin had been following the conversation. Going into politics is Jon's forte, not his own and the Archivist's powers and responsibilities is also Jon's forte. As for WAND, *that* he can answer. "WAND is a task force of SHIELD that handles mystical and supernatural disturbances whereas SWORD is more directed toward extradimensional and extraterrestrial threats."

    Speaking of, he smiles as Stargazer approaches the table. "Jane! Pleasure to see you again." He gestures. "Please, have a seat. Allow me to introduce my husband, and newest recruit of SHIELD, Jonathan Sims. Jon, this is Jane Foster, renown astronphysicist and astronomer."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Michael, at this point, has settled into a rhythm of carnivorous consumption. He sees Jane, of course, favoring the lady with a nod before settling back into ravenously tearing through his first (of four) burgers like a bivouacked Marine.

Jane Foster has posed:
    "Do you mind the company?" Jane's hardly an unfamiliar face in the wider world of science and podcasting. No Reed Richards, but then who is? Not many women can claim to have 'found' Asgard. Plenty familiar enough though to capture attention. Her loose cinnamon-brown hair falls around her shoulders, lost from a clip holding it back. "We haven't been officially introduced," she adds, but offers a friendly hand if appropriate. "Jon? Delighted to meet you. Outside these halls, I'm just a yet another public face, but officially seconded to W.A.N.D. and S.W.O.R.D., as the chief sees fit."

    Michael's presence with Jess brings a wider smile out of her, and a friendly figure-wiggle. Four burgers? Well, makes up for those who eat one. "It's good to see some of my favourite people. And soon to be as you're speaking of the best aliens ever after the friendly ones that let me dream of one day going to the Moon."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks up at Jane and will shake her hand, nodding. "I. Ahh. Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Foster," he says. Then he glances at Martin. ".../Would/ I be in this... WAND? I have no idea. I didn't even know..." He hesitates. His grandmother's connection to Peggy Carter /might/ be privileged information. So he frowns and quiets and focuses on his food for the moment. Aliens and Asgard and... well. It makes one wonder, about things like the Ennead and Ogdoad.

Jessica Drew has posed:
With a brief negative wave of her hand, Jess says smiling broadly, "Of course, we don't. Agent Foster is my favorite scientist and expert on things extra-terrestrial, not that you are a thing Michael, and of Jon's and Martin's ilk. How are you, Jane? Yes, four burgers is not unusual for him."

"She or Commander Carter would tell you what section you'll be assigned to. You won't be with grunts like me. I'm in the muscle section." She won't mention any other affiliations she might have in SHIElD.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "If you get a spacesuit from S.W.O.R.D.," Michael points out around mouthful of beef, "I can just take you, so long as you don't mind riding my back like a horse. I mean it won't be me, it will be the machine that I inhabit, but you know." It would be a bit like Powdered Toast Man, really. "Or I can take Jessica and she can give you a report."

    He cleans up his first burger, balling up the wrapper and setting it aside as he moves to open up another. "I should consider mapping nearby systems and securing a starship of some kind, even though I can manage interstellar distances myself. To move passengers and such. Perhaps a shuttle."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin laughs at Jess. "You're too modest Jess" he says, "You are so much more than a grunt, you and Erickson both were essential to the civilian population during our time on the boat if I recall correctly."

    He looks at Jane and considers her for a moment. "It might be worth setting up an appointment with you as well, so you can get a better handle of Jon's abilities. There are a number of ways I could see him going, but WAND and R & D are the first two on the list."

    Michael's commentary brings him up short. "I... I mean, sure we deal with Extraterrestrial threats to Earth, but that seems... I don't know... a bit pre-emptive? Maybe check with the Chief on whether such forays would be necessary... or even allowed." As much as he would like to see space, he wouldn't want to cause an intergalactic event on the whim of fancy.

Jane Foster has posed:
    "I lost any claim to dignity long ago," Jane replies, stifling a laugh. She puts down the sadly empty travel mug on the table, showing no sign of dashing off to get a refill on hot water. "I am your favourite scientist until Doctor Simmons saves your life. Then her inestimable bedside manner determining your malady or affliction takes precedence, and I'll assert that fact." Her eyes crinkle up as laughter doesn't quite escape her lips. Her fingers roam across her throat for a moment, offering a quick massage, as though she is getting over a cold. "Believe me when I say I'd like to chase the James Webb or the Hubble around, and as darling as Jess is, she /won't/ be reporting on it for me if I can escape the atmosphere."

    Astrophysicists and their strry night problems. "You'd probably want to talk to Commander Brand about that before you start plotting mapping out. There might be jurisdictional issues we have to consider." Probably things plotted out in some degree of concern. "R&D could well use more people, though in that front, it's what you want to do." She looks between Martin and Jon, pretty calm on that front.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I..." Jon hesitates, then says, slowly, "I'm a psychiatrist by training and practice. I suspect the Chief wishes me to fill that role, and it's easy enough--I've been working with people who do unusual things, 'superheroes,' my entire professional life. But the rest..."

    He seems to consider how to explain. "I can... I am a telepath. I have Astral Sight. I am learning rudimentary magic. And I have the ability to draw Stories from people and places. I've seen a man's death without his body there. I've drawn the entire history of a village in Egypt from the memories of my ancestors. And I am /meant/ to go into the field and /experience/ things, to gather more Stories for the Archive." The capital letters are clear in his words. "But, you know, I have no... field training of any sort, and not much experience, so I expect I'd /start/ in R&D?" He shrugs, uncomfortably. "I cannot imagine that will work forever but, ahh, the Chief was /quite/ insistent I have... I am not allowed to go anywhere /alone/, for now." He doesn't sound too upset by that idea.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"She certainly saved my life but I can be irrational and have my favorites, Jane. She has no bedside manner. It's here, take this jab and get better or else," making a comical grimace.

At Michael's proposal for space, Jessica sits up straight, like a child told that they are going to get a giant piece of their favorite cake if they are good. She listens to Michael tender the idea of her going into space and looks doubtfully at Jane, shrugging. So far, she has had little hope of it, thinking it the province of trained scientists able to make observations. In reality, it would be a wild vacation into the blackness of space, the best ever. "I could help," again the barely disguised enthusiasm.

    "But I think they would send the scientists like Jane first. Maybe he could tow a capsule of some sort?" Turning to Michael, "Could you power a shuttle? Wouldn't that be...taxing?"

They get down to the good stuff when Jon opens up about his abilities. Despite her own mutant abilities and forays with Spider-man, she listens raptly with barely suppressed glee. Yes, Jessica, there /is/ magic. She wonders how Michael will react and whether his people have these abilities.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    All this talk about permissions and jurisdictional issues just gets a quirk of the brows from Michael, who remians otherwise inscrutable for the moment as he looks between the rest. "I have made the offer, in any case. And you, Mister Sims, are welcome to sit with me at some point and pick my brains - literally, as it were. Just make sure you're prepared for violent imagery. My youthful years were...vigorous."

    A look to Jessica. "Power it? Cetainly not. I'd just arrange to buy one in one of the systems outlying here, whichever has sufficient outlay and surplus. Commerce exists beyond the sphere of this planet, after all." Magic doesn't seem to rustle him in the least, however.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin listens to Jon's description of his abilities and nods. "And, unfortunately, his magic and my magic are not on the same sort of understanding... if what I gathered from S--my own investigation into the abilities of the Archivist. So I can't accurately teach him... otherwise I would be more than happy to. I am supposed to engage in his training in a mentor role. Seeking out where I believe he would fit best, and while getting him in the field is the ultimate goal, he should start somewhere more... controlled, perhaps?"

    He *is* a little uncomfortable. On the one hand, he takes his job seriously and if the Chief ordered him to mentor Jon, he was going to mentor Jon. But on the other hand, Jon *is* his husband and there is a slight... disconnect between their levels of clearance and experience in the ranks of the organization. Never mind that Martin has never been given the tast of mentoring another agent before this moment. It is all a bit jarring to him.

Jessica Drew has posed:
    A glance up at the digital clock on the wall confirms that it is time to go. "I'll be in my office Michael." Backing her chair out, Jessica looks around at everyone at the table.

    "Nice meeting you, Jon. Really. Good to see you, Martin. Come have tea with me sometime, Jane if you can find the time. I know we are both so busy." Tray in hand she walks over to the bussing window to deposit it and walks quickly out of the food court.

Jane Foster has posed:
    "A delight to meet you both. However, I realize I am far and away overdue to force IT to make this sorry thing work. Magic is a topic that has no absolutes, though I can always provide you with a few ideas if needed." Jane clearly doesn't seem to deal too badly with that front as far as topics go. Her smile lifts a little when Jon mentions his abilities, and she replies. "All of that must be something quite difficult to adjust to. Field training in WAND comes after the recruitment process and the same basic training all agents get. I certainly didn't have any talent for it. Believe me, we've got experts that come out of the academy as sharpshooters that you'd never believe. Not all of us are those, but it applies. And given the nature of your purview, that sounds reasonable."
    Finer details most definitely haven't been lost on her, that much. She taps the metal drink container and nods to Martin. "I have an idea of where he might want to start, but in a controlled fashion makes matters a bit easier. It's not like we're throwing him to pair up with Hellboy, for example. Let me do a survey of what I've got ahead of me, but knowing where certain missing things may have walked off to could be a boon. My current role has me playing fetch with an octopus organization."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon... peers at Jane. Peers, and tilts his head, like suddenly something was very, /very/ bright and distracting about her. "Doctor Sims," he says absently to Michael, but he's... well. Distracted.

    "Gold," he murmurs. "With... knotwork. That's new." And then, as if answering a question asked aloud, "It /can/ be... painful and difficult to pick up something unexpectedly intense. I imagine that's part of the training I should have had... dealing with that, but even then, things might be... difficult. But it's also part of the duty, as it were." He glances at Martin. "But he can vouch for the fact that the first week alone was so overwhelming I was... well. I was not in a good way. I can at least /function/ now, so I suppose that counts for something."

    What on /Earth/ is he talking about?

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin looks at Jon with a frown. "Ummm... hon?" he asks. Looking at Jane and Michael with a bit of a frown he moves to rise. "I think Jon and I need to be going..." He takes Jon by the arm and lifts him to his feet. "C'mon Jon. There's a few things at the house that I need your help with if we're going to make it livable again. It was nice to see you both again. I'm sure we'll cross paths again soon enough. Especially with... well, things." He has to be cagey given Jon's lower clearance level.

    He takes his own tray and makes sure that Jon has his before moving to the bussing window and on out of the food court.