Owner	Pose
Jonathan Sims	After the visit to the Tower went not /remotely/ like he expected, Jon decides to head back to New York to think things over. Specifically, he heads for his old apartment in Chelsea, which he's barely seen in the past few months. He's decided he's going to suggest they move back there, partly to spare Martin the commute and partly because he can now just make portals to Westchester if he needs to visit the Archive. But largely to make sure his daughter grows up somewhere that /isn't/ SHIELD headquarters.     The whole place is musty, so he digs into the cupboards to find his spices and starts a pot of water boiling on the stove--the idea being to boil some spices and make the place smell better while he's cleaning and sorting things. Very shortly, the whole place smells of cardamom and cinnamon, aided by some judicious magical breeze-summoning, while Jon is pondering the bookshelves.
America Chavez	Usually the emergence of a star portal into a room is a tedious thing. After all five punches -through- reality takes some effort. But after the events of earlier, Ms. America's blood is pumping and she's in the punching mood. The five pointed star's V-shapes come on top of one another in quick succession. CRU-CRU-CRU-CRU-CRUNCH!     The interior of the star shaters away and the brunette steps through he portal into Jon's apartment. "Wow... New York. Metropolis is a bit out of your jurisdiction isn't it, Dr. Sims?" she asks giving the man and the apartment a once over as she rolls a shoulder, sliding the star-spangled jacket back into place. She turns a bit behind and waves a hand to dismiss the opening in reality as easily as she made it.
Jonathan Sims	Jon's hair does not /literally/ stand on end, but that is definitely the impression one might get, from the way he yelps and turns toward the portal. He'd put on his prosthetic, which is probably fortunate, because it makes it difficult for him to channel magic through the arm, and so he can't just summon a magic sword into being to deal with the sudden intruder.     "Good lord!" they gasp, staring at America. "Wh-why do people think it's okay to just...!" They huff. "A little /warning/ would be nice." They glower for a moment, indignantly, looking the very picture of millenial British high dudgeon.
America Chavez	If the indignation or tone puts any sense of anything other than amusement in America, she doesn't show it. "Usually the crunches as I break through reality and imminent star forming in midair is enough warning" she replies casually. "I'm just... a little worked up today. Really wanted to maybe take a swing at THE Jabberwock but..." she shrugs. "Terry and Not-Donna called a retreat and so, as I was following their lead, I listened."     She moves over to the couch and flops down into it, blinking at the immediate small cloud of dust that billows up from the cushions. "I take it this isn't your usual place?" she asks, waving a gloved hand in the air to disperse the lingering cloud.
Jonathan Sims	Jon sighs and turns to regard his visitor. "It used to be. It hasn't been for a few months. I'm hoping to move back. Things have been... weird, lately." Understatement of the decade, for him at least. "Sorry about the dust. I... don't know that I have much to offer... there's water, probably some liquor in a cabinet somewhere. Or are you, err, old enough for that?" He never knows, with the Titans.     He goes toward the kitchen, to pull down glasses and offer water, at least. "I'm just as glad you pulled me out of there. I think it wanted to /eat/ me." He shudders. "You're... Ms. America, right? Terry did a piece on you a while back, but I don't know the details. Punching holes in reality is a normal thing for you?"
America Chavez	"That depend on the country," America replies with a grin. "For the USA, I'm not. But that's never really stopped me" she says. "But water is probably fine for now." She leans back. A smile appears as he mentions knowing her from Terry's piece and she nods in agreement.     "That I am and yes it is. In the world I'm from it's a pretty special power, only gifted to special individuals. And..." she shrugs a shoulder. "Seeing as I'm the last of my kind in existence, well... You're a doctor. Two plus two, right?" There's grief there, but its mostly settled and taken care of.     "There's a lot of things I can do. Strength, flight, durability, speed. Nothing like Bart but those Speed Force boys--and girl--cheat so..." Another smile. "I figured I should track you down and we can do a sort of chaperone debrief. Don--sorry--" she clears her throat, "Troia said you made it hungry. Makes sense. You -are- a beacon of Order and it's a beacon of Chaos. So... sort of rang the dinner bell when you stepped in."
Jonathan Sims	Jon's brow furrows briefly and he looks up at 'last of my kind.' A soft sigh, but he doesn't comment as he comes back out of the kitchen (which has a bar so one can see the living room while cooking) and offers America the glass of water. "I really should have thought of that, I suppose. Terry's glitter, and Chaos magic in general, makes me..." He pauses, frowning. "Loopy might be the best term? It loosens me up, quite a lot. I touched Terry's mind once and that was a whole... experience."     He goes to sit down in an armchair, hitting the pillow first to be rid of the dust. "Thing of it is... Wonderland's /fascinating/ to me. I'm not the 'brittle and pure and pristine' kind of Order... I'm the 'turn a wild bramble into a garden' kind of Order. Terry's particular brand of Chaos is... fascinating and delightful and... well, I suppose I can see where the Jabberwock might feel similarly, but in a hungry sort of way."     They settle back comfortably; that might just be 'their' chair. "So... what did you want to talk about exactly? Chaperone debrief?" They snort. "I'm not really the best chaperone. I'm just about as liable as the kids to jump through a portal or touch something I shouldn't."
America Chavez	"Well... maybe it's more a hero to hero debrief then?" she says, taking the water with a nod of thanks. "I mean, if you plan on going back in--which I could see that much in you just from the few minutes we were there--I should have at least a moderate idea of what you can do as an Avatar of Ma'at. I know what the rest of them can do... well, mostly. Maddison is some sort of Jedi analogue..." she shrugs, "which considering some of the places I've been to isn't the strangest grouping of powers together."     She takes another long sip. "I'm definitely going back in. If that portal is as inconsistent in its location as it was today, I sort of -have- to to make sure everyone gets back in one piece. And besides," she smiles, "This Wonderland business is the -entire- reason I'm here. Being an interdimensional super hero and fixing dimensional inconsistencies and errors is sort of my thing."
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks rapidly at the first portion of that statement, opening his mouth in confusion--hero to hero? What?--and then closing it to frown at the second part. "Ah. So you... what, travel about dimension-hopping, punching holes in reality and showing up to help when you... feel like it?" There's an undertone of something there. Irritation, maybe?     His brow furrows and his jaw shifts a bit. "Funny," he says, "one would think that if /Wonderland/ is a draw to dimension-hopping heroes who try to fix dimensional errors, an underlying problem with the fundamental nature of the universe might be. One universe feeding off of others, threatening the entire multiverse so it needs to potentially be utterly remade, that kind of thing." He's clearly holding back a certain amount of anger, probably because America's a stranger, but he just can't help letting it bleed out into sarcasm.
America Chavez	America's own irritation isn't as subtle and it creases her features heavily as Jon speaks of the previous dilema of the universe. She sets the glass down on the coffee table a little harder than one would want and luckily doesn't break the glass (or the table) in the process. "You're right. It would. Which is why I've been trying to get back for the past four months" she says, her own anger clear in her tone.     "Four months of puching and kicking and screaming into the void." She punches the air to one side four times in quick succession, each with their own resonant crunch and V shaped crack as reality itself fractures under her assault. She waves a hand and the four Vs vanish in wisps of golden light. "First I couldn't even do that much. I'd punch and it feel like striking a jello mold. The impact would rebound and just keep on chugging." She punches the air again, and just as before four Vs appear with a single point of the star missing. Another wave of her gloved hand and the cracks disperse and seal.     "Then about two months ago something changed. It just sort of... stopped being a jello mold of a universe and started being solid again. So I could do this..." Once more she fires four quick jabs and eradicates the bonds holding reality in place four times with the sound and light effect and the V shape that almost completes a pentagram. "I'd get this far and then the next..." she punches where the pentagram would be complete and nothing happens. "Do you have -any idea- how infuriating it is to have your power allowed and then just... not... because some Cosmic Messenger -decided- that you weren't allowed to come in?" She waves a hand again and grits her teeth as the waves disperse. "It's... maddening what the Hosts can do, and even moreso when they decide to do it."     Her anger fades a bit, replaced by regret and sadness. "So yeah... I would've loved to come and help you all here" she says, picking up the glass again. "I like this universe and its funny differences. It's been almost a home to me a few times... and so it hurt like absolute hell when I wasn't allowed in to help save it and its people when it needed me."
Jonathan Sims	Jon watches this, punching of reality and all. "I have some idea how maddening the Hosts can be, if you mean angels, yes." He shifts his right arm for a moment, flexing the hand. He didn't /have/ that arm earlier; or rather, he did, but it was a glowing emerald replacement. He laughs and rolls his eyes. "Why am I not surprised to discover people who could have come and helped were being kept out?"     He sighs. "So now... now you /can/ come in, and you're here to help with Wonderland. Well. Better late than never, I suppose." A pause. "I'm sorry, I... I was /right/ at the center of that whole... business. I should not have... you're a guest. I should not be rude." Clearly, this is a guy who's used to swallowing his anger.
America Chavez	America shakes her head. "Nah. You've a right to be angry at someone. Better someone who should've been there to help and wasn't than someone who -was- and helping, right?" She shrugs. "Center of it all, huh?" she asks eying him, and his prosthetic arm, with an arched dark brow. "I mean, that makes sense. Avatars of new gods would be the ones to stand in the center of literal fire and brimstone and say, 'Yeah, no. We live here now so...'" she clears her throat and does a terrible impersonation of a London Accent while saying, "'piss off!'"     She laughs at her own terrible impersonation and takes another sip of the water. "So you're a big deal around town, huh?" she asks. "I mean, standing there in Wonderland, sword in one hand and magic in the other looked pretty badass to me... and I would know a few things about looking badass."
Jonathan Sims	Jon rolls his eyes at the bad imitation and then /blinks/ at 'badass.' Shifts uncomfortably. "I... wouldn't say I'm a 'big deal,' no. I'm one of the leaders of the Justice League Dark, and I led the SHIELD team that defended Manhattan during the angelic invasion, but otherwise I'm nobody much." A pause. "Well. I mean. Avatar of Ma'at, when there hasn't been one of those for a... very long time, but that's not..." He frowns, runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sure you understand the idea that you can save the whole bloody universe and nobody much notices." He smirks, and shrugs. /That/ doesn't seem to bother him all that much, really.     "But yes. I... wasn't an avatar when I started, not really, came to that partway through. Right before shoving a leaf from the World Tree down Ammit's gullet--with Caitlin Fairchild's help, incidentally--to fix the plumbing of the universe, as it were. It was more a thing of mortals than new gods, but..." He waves a hand. "That's neither here nor there. You're not here for the whole sordid story, I presume. What do you need to know about me in particular?"
America Chavez	America shrugs a shoulder. "Recognition isn't the point of it, not really" she says. "It's about doing what you know is right, regardless of the fact that possibly no one will notice or thank you." She smiles. "At the end of the day, you have to look in a mirror and say to yourself. 'I did a good thing.' If you can do that with a straight face, who cares if you get a medal or anyone knows your name." She finishes off the water and sets the glass on the coffee table with much less deliberate force than she had before.     She contemplates his question for a moment. "What you can do besides stand in proper super-hero poses awaiting giant monsters who might want to eat you?" she says with a grin. "I... uh... have a habit of sort of taking charge of situations when no one else does and... well, this Wonderland business. If Troia has to stay and man the portal, and Terry goes all teary-eyed when he goes in... someone's going to have to step up. If that's me, I like to know what I'm working with. You seem important to us figuring out how to help Troia. So naturally, you're there. What can you do?"
Jonathan Sims	"I don't care about recognition, as such. I used to care what people thought of me, admittedly." Jon says this with a kind of bemusement, like he can't... /quite/ remember why, but knows it was a thing. "But now..." He shrugs. "I know who I am. I care that I'm doing the right thing, I'll listen to advice or criticism, but the rest..." Another shrug. "Still a bit weird when people recognize me, though. 'Hey, Archivist!' I didn't even know the Archivist was a /thing/ until six months ago."     They consider the question, and then say, "I... would hope Terry gets himself together and can lead us, but it's good to know regardless I suppose. I... hmm. I'm homo magi, for starters. I can do magic, mostly through conjuration--I envision a form on the Astral Plane, and conjure it into reality." As if to demonstrate, he focuses on his water glass and water pours from nowhere, into the glass. He smiles. "The water's fairly easy. It's my... element, as it were."     He takes a sip of the water, sighs happily, then goes on, "I have access to the Archive, which houses the stored ancestral memory of every Archivist that's come before me, five thousand years and more... and the statements they've gathered from others, as well. I can see magic, I'm an empath and a telepath, I heal more quickly than normal, I have a sort of... sense that leads me places. Sensing the flow of fate, sort of? It seems to be giving me a penchant for showing up at just the right time."     He heaves a sigh. "The biggest thing, the... wings and the circlet, that's... I can merge with Ma'at, and become a direct avatar of her power. It seems to make everything I can do easier or more powerful, and I get the wings, so I can fly. There's more to it, I'm sure, but I haven't yet explored it all. I used to be able to... I could take a statement, and then judge a soul, but I don't... do that anymore, I don't think? I'm not sure /what/ I do now, exactly, but I'll figure it out in time."     He smirks. "Oh, and I remember everything. /Literally/ everything. I got /wasted/ on Asgardian mead the other night and I recall the whole night, if a little hazily."
America Chavez	America takes in everything he can do with a number of well placed nods. The conjured water jug and glass and the subsequent drink are all given a smile. "Very useful. So like Billy and then some. That's a good spread. And the memory thing... is quite handy." She brushes some of her curly dark hair behind one ear.     "I hope Terry can step up and lead us, too. But if he's going to go all 'I'm Whole' every time he goes there... it's going to cause problems and I like to have contingencies" she replies. "Especially with a place -that- unpredictable." Another shrug of her shoulders. "I mean, probably the first thing that will happen is all my plans will go out the window the moment we encounter something there but it's good to have a plan and not use it than to not have a plan and need it, right?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon snorts. "During the siege, I had contingencies for the contingencies. And even then, shit happened I wasn't expecting. /I'm/ certainly not expecting to step up, given that I'm not even a Titan. Terry came to me and told me that Donna was gone, and..." They have to stop, for a moment, frowning.     They shake their head. "I offered to help, since evidently the usual Titan magical expert is... indisposed. And I've already admitted to being /terribly/ curious about Wonderland. And the Titans..." They hesitate. "Terry was there through the whole damn angel thing. The Titans as a whole gave us technology that was instrumental in cutting down casualties. Caitlin helped me save the universe. Donna..."     The frown deepens. Jon's left hand flexes and releases. "Donna believed in me in a way nobody else quite did, at a time when I desperately needed someone in my corner. When I was... not being at /all/ worthy of being 'Gaea's Champion.' She lectured me and berated me, but without her..." A sigh. "I owe her, whatever version of her... exists. I owe them all. They're the only team, besides SHIELD and the JLD, that sent out much help in force to the whole bloody business. So." A shrug. "So, I'll help."     He flashes a smile, maybe trying to shift the subject off of himself--a place he's clearly not entirely comfortable with it resting. "And what about you, then? How'd you take up with the Titans, if you normally wander about dimensions punching star-shaped holes in reality?"
America Chavez	America grins. "Oh you know how it is...you show up as a woman and punch holes in monsters as well as reality and soon the local young Amazonian decides you're one of them now" she says with a small chuckle. "After that I was just sort of adopted in. I'm not even a full member far as I know, unless they grandmothered me in. I had to go to Earth-3143 for a while. The Brood--giant insectoid aliens who like to colonize and siphon entire galaxies of all life--decided that it was time for the Milky Way in that universe to end up on the menu. And then when I tried to come back... well... we covered that."     She sighs. "Donna is a good person and this Troia woman is her in every way but memory...so..." she shrugs. "That place. New Kronos... everything about Troia from the world she projects over the main room to her very presence... it's all... like painting over a Gauguin with a Van Gogh." She can be cultured, after all she's been to worlds and times where those people still lived. "It's in the same likeness, but it's overlaid what is there. I need some time alone with Troia, but I might be able to parse out exactly what's going on better. Part of being what I am is being able to tell exactly -what- is going on with dimensional issues. Maybe not the 'why' but knowing the 'what' might give us some insight into the 'how' and that's a step in the right direction."
Jonathan Sims	"She speaks like the gods." Jon leans forward a bit. "I mean that literally. I've spoken to gods, I've had them speak /through/ me, you heard that today. There's a kind of... resonance," he taps at his chest, over the heart, "down in your soul. For a moment there, she spoke like that. Like a goddess."     He frowns. "That place, it feels... /real/. More real than real. More real than this." He gestures around the room. "It feels like the realms of the gods, or the dead. Or both. It's..." He hesitates, shakes his head, clearly frustrated. "I don't know. I don't /know/! I mean... overwritten? Does that imply that Donna /is/ gone, or still... there underneath? And if she /can/ come back, what does that mean for Troia? And /who/ did this? Terry thinks it's something to do with Wonderland, but I'm not... so sure about that. He told me there was a prophecy. Why would /that/ have anything to do with Wonderland?"     He scrubs a hand through his hair. "I was going to go tell her she was right, about everything. About... /everything/. And then come to find out she was gone before I even..."     He shakes his head, puts the water glass down on the coffee table, and abruptly stands. "I need a drink," he declares.
America Chavez	"What you need is to let off some steam... somehow" America says, watching him move across the room. "Like... find something to keep you busy until the next Wonderland trip. Whatever is going to help the situation is in there... maybe it's somthing connected to it, maybe it's a clue to the -real- problem. But it starts there. And you're wound tighter than a--" The next words come out garbled and unintelligible. It's not that her voice changes, but the words she is using are being spoken in a language that this universe doesn't have actual words for.     She opens her mouth and blinks. "That's never happened before. I guess those just aren't here in this universe. Strange. Well, what I mean is that you're wound up and need some form of release, however you define it. I usually go out and find some small good deeds to do... because it helps me feel better to help others." She looks at him. "I really don't know what you can do... but you need to do it soon. Otherwise all this bottled up... anger and irritation..." she shakes her head. "It's not going to help you or anyone if you don't let it out somewhere."
Jonathan Sims	"I'm--" Jon actually /chokes/ on the attempted lie. He coughs, reaching up to massage his throat. "Well, bugger all. I suppose I /am/ angry." He sighs, as he pours himself a glass of whiskey. "Sure you don't want any?" He glances over, and when she indicates she'd like some, pours a glass for her as well.     He shakes his head as he comes back into the other room. "Wonderland /is/ the thing keeping me busy." He hands over the glass of whiskey. "I'm supposed to be going on vacation for a week or two... I just got back from dying and coming back to life, I got tortured a few months ago... I have a therapist, but it's not an easy thing to process. I need to sort out the leadership of the Justice League Dark, we just got this new base... and there's so many people that died, or got hurt, and the angels don't give a flying fuck, and it shouldn't have /happened/ in the first place... and my best mate gives my girlfriend nightmares, and people I thought were my friends..."     He lets out a long breath. "Sorry. That's not really..." He waves a hand, and takes a drink of the whiskey. It's good stuff, well-aged. "Wonderland's the good deed in between. Letting off steam. It matters, but it's not /my/ project. If I don't show up, it doesn't fall apart, you know?" He snorts. "I /tried/ to get out of the whole angel business when I thought I might be compromised and was told in no uncertain terms that I /had/ to be involved. Weight of the whole bloody universe, etcetera. But I don't... I'm not..." He frowns. "I'm not... good, with anger. It all comes up and out, all at once, and I... well, I pummeled Michael's face, once. I throw around energy bolts. I'm genuinely afraid I might kill someone, if I'm not careful."     He frowns at her. "...Does it really show /that/ much?"
America Chavez	America shakes her head at his question. "It's not that it shows... but I've seen enough people crushed under the weight of emotions so I know what to look for and what to see when it rears its head." She sips some of the whiskey and doesn't even wince at the burn of the drink.     "I don't know if a vacation would be a good idea..." she says. "Not with all that on your plate. Or at least... not a super long one. Week tops" she offers. "Just my opinion." Another sip. "You seem like the sort of person who needs to be moving and -doing- things..." she smiles.     "After all, what's the point of sitting on knowledge if you don't add to it. And to add to it, you've got to experience life, right?" She makes a fist. "There's a huge difference between punching a guy and watching a guy get punched." As if to accent her statement she punches the air. There's no crack of reality or anything, but there is a sudden displacement of air behind the strength of her punch.
Jonathan Sims	"I'm... /driven/ to experience things, actually," Jon admits. "Driven by my gods. It's... something I wish I could explain to people. I /need/ to go out, and do things, experience things, get in trouble, hop through portals and see Wonderland." A smirk. "And I /enjoy/ it too. I mean, gods, wasn't that... /exhilarating/? Standing there in... in /Wonderland/? It's amazing, you know? I love it. I'm terribly grateful I get to /do/ this now, instead of... sitting and listening to other people talk about it." A pause. "I... used to be a therapist for superheroes, see."     He swirls the liquid around in his glass with a frown. "A lot of the rest is just... responsibility. And I don't mind; most of it's a responsibility I volunteered for. My friends keep insisting I need a break. 'You need a vacation, Jon! You need to get away!' Well, yes. I do. And, I mean, there's... skiing, and caves, and things to do, it won't be sitting around on a beach sipping mai tais or anything." He smirks.     After a moment, though, the smirk fades. "I'm... worried, though, about what happens when I... stop, and let it all in. All that weight. I know I need to, I think I can't bury it forever, but what happens when the dam bursts?" He huffs out a breath and shakes his head. "I wish I could figure out how to let it out... slowly, but one thing after another just... piles up."
America Chavez	America takes another sip of the whiskey. "It's a problem a lot of us have" she replies. "You've probably seen it enough times yourself. It's just... different when you're dealing with it internally rather than externally." She crosses one leg over the other and the bright red high-top bounces a few times.     "My advice, and I'm not syou so maybe you can't do what I do... but..." She takes a breath. "You've got to realize that you can't be everywhere at once. Some things are going to slip through the cracks and you have to just trust that those things will work out, even if you're not there to see to it." There is an underlying sadness in her tone, like she's experienced the same issue.     "No one person can save everyone, everytime. But there are more super heroes out there than you and I and while not having control over things is scary..." she sips more of the whiskey. "Sometimes you just need to trust that those heroes are going to manage to take care of whatever lingering worry you have nagging at you."     A smirk. "And for the love of all that is Holy... delegate. Don't -ever- try to lead a big group alone. -Ever.- Enough of us have been down that road, and it -never- ends well."
Jonathan Sims	"Well... that's why I'm glad there's three leaders of the JLD. Or, well, there's /supposed/ to be. I need to get with Phoebe about a third." Jon smirks and shakes his head. "The man that suggested a Trinity, he was so certain he'd pulled some kind of coup, but I was /grateful/. Should've thought of it myself, to be honest."     He sighs. "Maybe... maybe I /should/ sit up at night, thinking about all those people I can't save. But... I don't. I think about the ones I could have saved and didn't. That's... something you do. But I went to medical school, I'm a psychiatrist, you learn to recognize that you can't save everyone, and you definitely can't help anyone that doesn't come in your door. But I don't worry about... Gotham or Metropolis, or things in New York I might miss. I have a responsibility to my people, and the things I've found out about. I'm not about to pretend I can do everything. I've seen what trying does to people."     He smirks. "See, you think it's 'too much responsibility' too. And it isn't. It... /really/ isn't. The responsibility is..." He pauses, then says slowly, "This will sound more boastful than I mean it, but I very nearly became an avatar of Ra and Osiris rather than Ma'at. The king, the pharoah. Some bit of that came with me, I think, or maybe I was already suited for it and that's why it worked...?" He shrugs. "It doesn't bother me, is my point. It's not the burdens of leadership that are getting to me. If that's all it was, I'd sort out the third leader with Phoebe and head off to Austria to ski without a problem."     A sigh. "I don't want to be angry, is the problem. I'm no good at angry." He shakes his head. "I'll figure it out. And Wonderland's good for that, it keeps me from taking myself too seriously."
America Chavez	America listens and nods before downing the last of the whiskey. It was a bit much and this time she does wince just a bit. "That's... probably true" she says with a grin as she uncrosses her legs and leans forward the set the tumbler on the coffee table. "It will do that... for all of us I imagine."     "Except maybe Vorpal. But that's just the thing, he sometimes needs to be serious..." She smiles. Suddenly she starts. "Oh, right! You got a phone?" she asks, reaching into her coat and producing a rather expensive looking phone. Her fingers fly over the keys of the device. "Just in case I need to get ahold of you in case wonderland excursions are a go for part II."
Jonathan Sims	Jon pulls out his phone, a sturdy-looking thing in a heavy case, something that looks government issue despite being sleek and black and silver. He gives America his number, Manhattan area code and all, then says, "It was good to meet you, Ms. Chavez. And... thank you, really, for making sure I got out of there. Sometimes my own instincts get the better of me." He makes a face. "Best that someone's around to make sure I'm not being a /complete/ idiot."     If the guy thinks he was an /idiot/ for being willing to face down a monster and trying to make sure the others got out, well... maybe there's deeper problems.
America Chavez	America makes a face. "Ew... not a fan of that. America is fine" she says and sends hima text from her phone. The string of numbers is unlike any configuration on Earth. Sixteen digits long with asterisks at the begining and end. "Best to just route it to a hot key rather than trying to remember it" she says. "Even if I'm on a mission Out Of Town" the words have significance, "I'll get the call. Not all Loki's out there are bad guys" she grins.     "And hey, you trying to fight a giant monster isn't being an idiot. Not unless you're completely inept at that sort of fighting--which I saw how you used that kopesh; you've got some skill." She rises and gives him a wink. "Fine line between stupid and brave. Key is to be on the brave side more than the stupid and everything can fall into that category." She tucks the phone back in her coat and offers her hand to him for a shake. "Nice to meet you, too, Dr. Sims. Look forward to working with you."
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks at the number for a moment, then plugs it into his phone. He frowns at it for a long moment, gaze flicking between the woman and his phone before inputting the number under '*Columbia*' for... whatever reason. "Don't know that I'd want to meet a Loki one way or another," he mutters darkly. Evidently there's some kind of history there.     He tucks away his phone and stands, smirking. "Perhaps. Sometimes I think it's a matter of the outcome more than anything. Thank you, though." He takes her hand to shake it, firmly."     "And... Jon's fine, if I'm calling you 'America.' He/they pronouns, if you please." Their cheeks darken, just faintly, but they manage not even to stumble over that bit of information. Progress!