8784/Drops of Saturn

Drops of Saturn
Date of Scene:	22 November 2021
Location:	Chelsea Market
Synopsis:	A lovely outing. Food bought, a gift given that's truly out of this world.
Cast of Characters:	Michael Erickson, Jessica Drew

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Michael Erickson has posed:
    Chelsea Market is a massive affair, but Michael navigates it easily as he walks the complex's open halls - years of familiarity, though obviously things change with every year. Michael is bundled up as per usual, sweater and jeans and long wool coat. He's also added a scarf to go with his flat cap, which gives him ever more so the appearance of a Eastern European cabbie. Mind you, it's overbundling to most, but the Shi'ar do /not/ like cold, and he's ever one of his own people if only physically these days.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Being from good English stock, used to the cold. Jessica looks under bundled if anything. A pair of mahogany knee high boots with low heels over jeans that fit her figure well, a black turtle neck under a fleece lined vest that she wears open for the moment - fit for a farm or the City.

The Market fascinates her, she never tires of it but is careful about her purchases not wanting to waste food. But, the truffles and mushrooms and endless varieties of vegetables and artisanal bread fascinate her. She grabs Mike hand to pull him over to a stall displaying truffles, mushrooms and foie gras.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Like any good man, he follows his lady - pulled along to the stall he peers into the encosure, at the incredible variety of gourmet ingredients. "...well," he says, looking more especially at protein-dense meats and whatnot. "This looks expensive."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Well, it is not everyday food but..." she agrees pensively. "Yeah, expensive. I might splurge on a some raw foie gras. In fact, I will, I know how to cook it. All we need is a good bottle of wine, some micro greens for balance and we will have a great meal. If you trust me."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    She gets a snort as a response. "Of course I trust you, halan," he murmurs, peering at the foie gras. "Why don't you let me get it, mmm?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Hmmm...would you get the wine and I will get the foie gras and cepes, I've decided." She nods to the man hovering behind the table.

Under her breath to her Michael, "Is halan something I could call you?"

Aloud, after catching the man's attention, "I would like to half inch slices of raw foie gras and half a pound of cepes, please."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Hmmm...would you get the wine and I will get the foie gras and cepes, I've decided." She nods to the man hovering behind the table.

Under her breath to her Michael, "Is halan something I could call you?"

Aloud, after catching the man's attention, "I would like two half inch slices of raw foie gras and half a pound of cepes, please."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "You can absolutely call me that," he murmurs back, flashing her a wink - and then leans in a bit more to squint at the foie gras. "You know," he says after a moment, "I actually don't know what foie gras /is/. I've been eating it for years, but I just...never asked." Michael straightens, looking back to her. "What is it?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jess looks at the man behind the counter who is wrapping the two thick slices he just cut for her. Slightly defensive the man answers with a nod acknowledging Jessica, "Our foie gras comes from a farm in upper State New York who raise their geese ethically."

Jessica tells Michael in an side, "Animal activists are very much against it. The old methods were rough."

The vendor overhears her, "That's right. This foie gras is made with organic grains and they don't use gavage at Swift River Farm.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"It's liver, Michael. I forgot to say. They used to take the animals and force feed them. It's called gavage or stuffing in English. They used a type of funnel that they forced down their throats. It overloads their livers with fat, essentially giving them liver disease. Less and less people are doing that now."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    The revelation causes him to frown, looking up from the liver and grunting thickly at the news. "Rough is a way to put it," he mutters. Then he looks at the man behind the counter. "And you say the farm you procure your liver from does not use these force-feeding techniques?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
As the man hands Jessica the package, "No, they forage on acorns, apples and local greens that gives them the traditional yellow color, sir. It is very good."

Jess puts it into her shopping basket. "I didn't know for a long time, Michael. I'm sorry. We don't have to eat it. I can give it away to someone." She looks at vendor with a troubled expression. "I'll take the cepes. I know they are ethical." With a little brush of her hand on his, "I know, halan. Buy us some nice wine, please. But not sauterne, I find it too much there are some very good Sancerre that go well with foie gras."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Michael nods after a moment. "All right, that's acceptable," he informs both the stall owner and Jessica at a stroke. "Let's get the foie gras." And then he's off to get the wine, apparently back to peaceful wandering now that this has been resolved. Speaking with a woman running a gourmet wine stall, Michael selects a nice Bergerac to pair with the foie gras, and peering at the label seems to fall into thought.

Jessica Drew has posed:
After she packs her basket with the mushrooms, Jess goes in search of Michael. "Okay, now for the greens and then we will have a dinner fit for a king and queen. She takes the bag with the bottle Mike is carrying to examine the label. "Oh, my. Nice choice. I really have to find some nice micro-greens and good bread now."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Mmmm." He smiles faintly at her, lookng her over for a long moment. "Jessica? I know things between us haven't been going on for long...but. I'd like to give you something. A token of my great esteem." Michael looks at her, into those beautiful eyes. "If I may?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Has foie gras driven you to this?" she quips though her smile is soft. "Michael, what are you doing? I know it hasn't been long but...you may."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He rolls his eyes faintly at that. "I tell you, halan," Michael says, "Your cooking is delicious, but duck liver shan't drive me to gifts." A beat. "I think. but in any case..." With that said, Michael extracts a long box from his coat, covered in burgundy velvet. He pauses. "You like pearls, I hope?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jess's eyes sparkle as she nods, "Do you like pearls?" She shakes her head in smiling disbelief at the long box, she takes it without opening it.

"Should we do that here in public? I'm so paranoid about attracting unwanted attention, Michael. Let's find a place with more privacy." She gives him a winsome smile, "If you don't mind."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "All right," he replies, gesturing for her to lead - falling into line behind her, his expression neutral as they go. A mask for the public, don't you know. "Lead on, won't you?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
They wend their way through the crowds to a spot that likely Michael remembers - the Empire Cafe. "This should do it. We can warm up with something and take a booth for more privacy. What do you think?"

She unwinds her colorful scarf, brushes back her raven black hair as she walks to a booth. Jess gives a little wave to the woman serving behind the counter and points to the booth they are standing next to before sliding in. "You would think they would never let us back in here, would you?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I expect they have short memories in this city," he replies, though there's a touch of warmth to it. Amusement leaking into his tone despite himself. Entering the Diner behind her, he waits until she takes her seat until he joins her, sitting opposite in the booth.

    "So," he says, looking past her a moment to spot any incoming servers. "You didn't answer me. Do you like pearls?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
"I think I do. I've never worn them. They are a symbol of the unconscious, aren't they? Mysterious things born deep beneath the ocean." She takes the case he had given her earlier and puts it on the table but doesn't open it when the waitress comes to take their order.

"I would like reuben sandwich and a hot cider, please." She explains to Michael, "They make good cider here from Upstate like the foie gras."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Well." He gestures to the box, lips quirking into a faint grin. "I think you'll find that these are like nothing else on this planet. Technically they aren't pearls, even, but..."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Oh? You just happen to have pearls from another planet on you?" She asks, smiling archly as leans forward to open the box between them.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Not remotely." He reaches to open the box, and reveals, bedded on cream-colored silk, a long, single strand of what look like oddly metallic, blue-black pearls. Strung on a platinum chain, the baubles glitter, swirls of color washing over their surface like oil when the light hits them just right - mysterious, gorgeous, strange.

    "These," he explains as he gestures to the strand. "Are made from a stone cluster I found in the rings of Saturn last month. Stone, but with heavy traces of bismuth. They're not valuable in the material sense, I suppose, but I thought..." And then Michael looks up to her, gauging her reaction.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jessica gasps, "Why they are magic!"

She lays a finger next to one of the 'pearls', shaking her head with admiration for the luster. "Look at the way the light slips over the surface. I've never seen anything like that. It's like you could get lost in them.

She looks up at him, "They are not at all what I imagined...not the staid white pearls of the bourgeoisie. The rings of Saturn?! I'll be a space princess! Oh, Michael they are so lovely," she exclaims with a wide smile.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Her reaction is, apparently, in or about what he was hoping for; with a chuckle he sits back, heavy brows steepling faintly in satisfaction. "Well," he says, "I thought you might appreciate something creative over just the usual Tiffany's run. And you can say that you've got something that doesn't exist anywhere else on your world, now."

    He falls silent, then, considering. Offers her his hand. "I'd like us to talk to the Chief, please," he says. "Soon. So you can wear those pearls and everyone can know who gave them to you. Yes?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jessica lowers her eyes in thought, nodding to an inner conversation, "It's not like agents are not involved with each other. Sometimes I feel like SHIELD is a bit like our military used to be with same-sex couples, if they don't know it, it doesn't exist." She looks up, her lips edged into a sad smile. They both have a long history of organizations deciding how they would live their lives.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "But I'm not an agent," he points out. "And for all my appearance, I'm not human. The Chief has a right to know." Michael reaches out and lays his hand upon hers, his lips settling into a quiet smile. "Halan. It will be fine. She has no reason not to allow us to pursue this, so long as security concerns are satisfied."

Jessica Drew has posed:
With a faint snort, "You give me hope. Halan."

Then agent to the core, she starts down the path of doubt, playing devil's advocate to their situation. "How can they assure themselves that I somehow won't be compromised by someone who infiltrated earth so many years ago.? How can they make up their mind about how secure any agents involved with a partner or another agent are? We would all have to be monks and nuns, wouldn't we?"

She laughs and collapses against the back of the booth, then straightens when the waitress comes.

"Oh, look at those! They are beautiful," she says. "Um, not that...here is your food." She sets down the food, trying to keep her eyes off the lustrous stones. "If you need anything let me know."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "The best gift one can give someone you care about," he points out - and then eyes the woman who speaks about the pearls. A hint of protectiveness there, but it fade as she departs. "Well," he says after a moment when the waitress is out of earshot, "I suppose they can't. I still say that I'll be willing to be scanned by telepaths. I understand their need for safety - but if it means we stay like this, I'm happy to do it."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Telepaths," the mutant agent shudders. "That...I just don't think I could do that. That is a huge sacrifice to make Michael.

She leaves her food untouched for a moment, visibly conflicted about what he proposes."Here, have half my sandwich. Do you like hot cider?"

"Alright," she says decisively, picking up a half of the sandwich. "I'll go to talk to her first. Maybe she won't need to see us both. What do you think? It's not like you are asking me to marry you and she's my mother....erm, much." She takes a bite, holding it over the plate in case it drips.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "It's not /really/ a sacrifice." He reaches to take the half a sandwich as she offers. "Giving away my body and my life to the Imperial state to be a spy on this planet, that's a sacrifice. Letting someone scan my brain to get what I want isn't even really something I need to think twice about." He takes a bite of the sandwich, considering. "Trust me on this, halan. She's going to be suspicious, but she'll be able to handle the situation in a way that gives us all what we want. But not telling her? That's going to destroy everything in the long term. I've been doing this sixty years almost. I know."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"I don't disagree. Keeping secrets from your employer...well, from SHIELD can't be a good thing in the long run."

She gestures with a dill pickle slice. "You /are/ right. I want the same thing. Do you think they would want to look at both of us? I just want to be ready. I'm going to have to just ask her. Alright, tomorrow I will ask for an appointment."

Straight-faced, she comments after crunching the pickle, "Such an old man. You like them young, don't you?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Wouldn't have mattered if you were twenty-eight or two-hundred-eighty," he says with a snort, smiling around another mouthful of sandwich. "I would've picked you out the moment I met you. You're a singular woman, Jessica. As for the rest..." The sandwich is put down. "I'd expect a full probe, aye. Interrogation - me more than you, of course. You'll likely get a medical or a psych examination." A beat. "Unless she just goes with her gut. Would save everyone time and trouble, but who knows what she'd determine then?" He lets out a breath. "It trades a lot on trust in you, halan. I'm sorry for that."

Jessica Drew has posed:
She meets his gaze with her own, "That's good then. I've given them my all. I know where I came from and no one could give me the freedom to become who I am and the trust that SHIELD has. Certainly not the people who created me."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "If she tells you no..." Michael frowns a moment. "Well, we'll deal with it then. But in the meantime." He looks down at the pearls glittering between them. "Why don't you put them on?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
"I...uh," Jess wipes her hands and then slides out the booth to slip into Michael's side.

"Would you?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    With a faint but undeniable smile of delight, Michael nods - and, taking the pearls up from their bed of white silk, moves to fix the clasp of the platinum chain behind that elegant neck, beneath the weighty tumble of thick black hair. "There, now," he murmurs, letting them drape and glitter down her chest. "A space princess, indeed."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Running her fingers along the smooth surfaces of the pearls, Jess looks over her shoulder at him with a warm smile. "I'm a space princess with pearls from Saturn. Take that Tiffany!" She turns to face Michael and gives him a lingering kiss on the cheek. Then pulls back, "How do they look? I have to see them in a mirror."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    The smile she gets from him is warm, now. Radiant. "Regal," is all he tells her, adoration rising in his eyes. "I chose well."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"You did," she agrees with a raise of her chin. "I'll talk to her as soon as she can see me. Thank you for the gift, Michael."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "You're welcome." He reaches for his half of the sandwich, now, and pauses. "So. I've got some images of the rings I can show you later, that I took while out there. It's a Hell of a view..."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Back on the other side of the booth, she picks up her sandwich, but asks before taking a bite. "Oh! Can you show me? Who mined the rock and who made the pearls, Michael?How did you now they would be this beautiful?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I can," he says with a chuckle. "And I found the rock - I made sure that the armor's instruments confirmed it was harmless, but you'l see from the shots how I just...came up and bumped into it, basically. Stone the size of a fist, just floating there amid an ice formation." He makes a faint face. "Lot of black ice in the rings. I didn't dare get too deeply in lest I miss somthing and smack a boulder. But I saw it, took it home, cut most of the stone away with the plasma cutter and broke it up to take to a specialty jeweler I know. Just tumbled the stuff and smoothed it into beads, you know."