Owner	Pose
Michael Erickson	In the aftermath of the departure of the angels from Manhattan, and with training program for SCAR being put together, Michael hasn't seen Jessica for some time - and, given that his handler is also his sweetheart, he's had a time to take a breath and try and change that. So, taking the initiative, he leaves a note for her in her email box: 'Harry's, 7:30pm. Let's catch up, halan.'     Which is where he waits on her now, glass of scotch in hand - ruminating over said drink while he looks out across the bar's big room and waiting for the lady to arrive.
Jessica Drew	Work has kept Jessica sleeping at the Trisk when she is not in the field. Lucky for her that she doesn't own a goldfish, it would be dead from lack of care. The world is returning to some sort of normalcy and it can be measured in the small things like meeting your sweetheart after a normal 10-hour day at work. Jess wears a little black dress, very Audrey Hepburn with a modest hemline that shows just enough thigh and a scooped neckline that flatters her long neck and graceful collarbone. She walks in with a Hermes red jacket draped over her shoulders and stops long enough to find her target. "There you are!" she murmurs, as she squeezes his upper arm and slides onto the stool next to him.
Michael Erickson	"Here I am." He gives her a smile as she takes the stool, looking over her Hepburn dress - he himself wears far more casual fare, jeans and t-shirt and that battered old cafe racer jacket. "You look amazing, halan. I feel like a bum, looking at you like that." Michael lifts his glass to her in salute, smile turning warm and affectionate as she takes her eat. "What can I get you, huh?"
Jessica Drew	"A bit over dressed, I guess. Well, that's alright, as long as you like it." She looks at the bar in the mirror. I should have worn sneakers and jeans from the look of it," she smiles and shrugs. "I'm feeling very James Bond this evening and would like a martini of all things. Tanqueray with three extravagant olives, please." After the order is given, "How is school? How is Grand Central Station?"
Michael Erickson	"I should've thought to dress," he says with a shake of his head. "Next time /I'll/ dress up nice for you. Anyway, you outclass everyone here now." A wink. "Which I like." He reaches out to touch her hair, then, before rapping on the bar and gesturing to the bartender who squinting comes over to take the order.     "School is fine," he says as the bartender goes off to do the thing. "Bit hard cramming everything together but I'm handling it. Kids look at me like I'm insane a lot, you know, explaining some of the collective weirdnesses of space. Tell someone you had a layover on a moon with a surface made primarily of solid diamond and they tend to think you're full of shit. The Station's been deplated, which makes the city happy, I'm sure. Minimal damage, nothing that couldn't be repaired. Needs cleaning, but I'm seeing to that." He takes a sip from his glass. "You?"
Jessica Drew	"Hmmm. I wish I could talk about it. Suffice it to say, it's cold in Eastern Europe at this time of year. I mean the rivers are still frozen over." Jess, feeling awkward, makes duck lips at him apologetic for not being able to tell him something that is above his clearance. "Never marry anyone in the spy business if you like to talk about work. I'm so glad we will get to share a project and can talk about it." The martini arrives, Jess nods her thanks to the bartender before pulling it closer, andpulling out the toothpick skewering the olives. After a sip and a bite of olive, she observes, "Most kids think their teachers are impossibly old, out of it and uncool. It's easier to make fun of them than to think you might be like them some day."
Michael Erickson	"So I'm told." He chuckles, then, taking another sip. "Oh, I get more suspicion than anything else - the students know me by this time, and while there's a lot of that 'uncool guy' thing going on they're mostly still waiting to see if I don't try and murder the Headmistress." He takes another sip. "They pay attention, at least. And they don't think I'm lying. It scares a lot of them, though. The enormity of space an its wonders can be terrifying in general."
Jessica Drew	Toasting him with her martini, "To mayhem and the murder of Headmistresses! Really? So they know enough about interstellar politics to at least suspect you? Which is saying a lot! They sound like a smart lot which at least, must be fun for you." She grimaces slightly when he describes how they might be scared, "Do you think that is a bad thing?"
Michael Erickson	"I've been telling them about the political structures out there, to boot," he offers. "I offer courses in galactic politics and the like, but they're sparsely attended. People just have this allergy to space." Michael shakes his head. "I don't pretend to understand it. But then again, my people have been a spacefaring culture for thousands of years."
Jessica Drew	"That puzzles me and yet it doesn't surprise me. Most of us are only concerned about what happens in their backyards. Your backyard just happens to be much larger than most, halan." She occupies herself with polishing off another olive, then points the olive skewer at him, "Bigger than mine, certainly though I have a feeling you're going to do a lot to enlarge it."
Michael Erickson	"That's the idea." He grins a tad at Jessica, then. "You don't ask me much about it yourself, you know. Don't you have anything you'd like to learn about? Some burning question that I can maybe answer?"
Jessica Drew	Knitting her eyebrows in concern, "Do you feel like I don't care enough to ask questions?" Speaking slowly, "I suppose I didn't want to hear the tale of planets overrun by technologies far superior to their own, no matter how benevolent the leaders paint themselves. Are there any planets that are happy in themselves and that haven't raped their own planets with constant warfare or ecological disasters?"
Michael Erickson	"Oh, plenty." Michael chuckles faintly at the question. "And you know, the Empire's brought a lot of races into the fold nonviolently, too. There's the..." He squints a moment, as if trying to recall something. "...the Mrhmhrnrm. Crystalline organisms. They grow in mineral deposits. Everything they need is extruded from their own bodies - they don't tax the environment at all."
Jessica Drew	"Enlightened biology. They are the exception that probably proves the rule. Most intelligent species are not so bright to my mind." She toasts him with her martini which is half-finished now.