10813/Betcha Can't Drink That Many Shots...of Espresso

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Betcha Can't Drink That Many Shots...of Espresso
Date of Scene: 21 January 2020
Location: Starbucks, New York City.
Synopsis: Since Bucky can tolerate eight shots of espresso in his peppermint mocha, Felicia decides that it needs to be twelve next time. Science!
Cast of Characters: Winter Soldier, Black Cat




Winter Soldier has posed:
He....doesn't look ordinary. Not even in those boring clothes: the old army parka, fatigue pants, dark blue henley, combat boots. He's tucked his watch cap into his coat pocket, wears only a silk glove liner over the metal hand. But it's the way he carries himself, the way he's picked the table in the corner that gives him vantage on entrances and exits. He's got his hair pulled back - well, the front's pulled back, the rest of it left loose. Not fooling with his phone. He almost never does that, star-collecting game aside.

Black Cat has posed:
She looks like something right off a college campus and, with a little imagination given her self-satisfied carriage, someone who better belongs out spending the evening glittering in diamonds and satin. Felicia's in her shearling-lined coat seen during their train encounter, a confection of dark treated sheepskin and silvery fur at cuffs and lapels. Her hair is loose with artful streamers of platinum-blonde hanging to frame her cheekbones from beneath the wine-red beret. Her boots announce her -- click-click -- even if her entrance into the coffee-laced warmth of the Starbucks doesn't.

"Ah, there you are." Her voice is soft and pleased as she walks over, hands still tucked into her coat pocket against cold. Her grin makes her cheeks lift. "I almost wasn't sure you'd show up. Looked at the menu yet?" A beat and her jade-green eyes narrow a little, her red-lipped smile not fading an iota. "Or you up for suggestions? Or dares?"

Winter Soldier has posed:
He's looking for her. This is a welcome distraction from the little lump of ice that's taken up permanent station in his belly. Where's Steve? How can he get him? Because surely Steve can't have left him here forever, alone in this time with his wounds and his scars. It's shadowed his eyes, brought that tension into his shoulders

"Hey there," he says, voice rasping. His smile's wan, but it's there. "What kinna dare can you do in a coffee shop?" Buck wonders, brows canting, curiously.

Black Cat has posed:
"A lot, actually, mostly with things like..." A finger appears, wrapped in fine kidskin leather, to taptap lightly at her plump bottom lip. "Mixing flavors or...adding extra shots. It's caffeine, right? Too much and who knows? You might vibrate into another dimension," Felicia surmises, her voice dropped low and theatrically dramatic. Jazz hands seem appropriate -- they happen.

"So. How much caffeine //can// you handle, bud? I bet you can't drink an eight-shot, extra hot peppermint mocha with extra whip." Her grin appears again, brightly-white. "You'll get all antsy-in-your-pantsy."

Winter Soldier has posed:
Felicia's treated to that guileless blue gaze. Paler than Steve's, less earnest, more lost. "I can," he says. "I'm....not entirely immune to most chemicals, but I'm close. Caffeine's just another drug that generally doesn't move the needle." He seems to mean it.

This is when Lili makes her appearance, nosing out from under the table and grinning up at Felicia. Hey, lady

Black Cat has posed:
By the twist of her red-red lips, the artifice doesn't have her convinced. "Alriiiight," she murmurs with a little shrug of one hand off a hip. "But I don't believe you, so I'm ordering you that anyways -- my dime, my treat." When Lili appears like a magic trick, the Cat's face lights up.

"And there's the pretty girl! Hey you," she schmoozes down at the German Shepherd and, in polite recognition of Lili's job, she keeps her hands to herself. "I bet I can get a puppacino for her. Can she have one?" Felicia glances back up at Lili's handler. "It's a small plastic cup of whipped cream."

Winter Soldier has posed:
Puppacino. She can see his lips shape the words, soundlessly. Then Buck's laughing, that soundless laugh that makes his eyes go to bright blue crescents, makes his shoulders shake. "Yes," he says, when he can speak again. "Sure. A puppacino for her, and whatever concoction you want, for me." He doesn't even argue with her wanting to pay. He can buy it next time.

Black Cat has posed:
"Eee." Felicia even claps once before her chest. Her smile shines like a diamond necklace. "Excellent. Gimme two shakes of a lamb's tail," says she with a kohl-lined wink. Turning on the heel of her boot (and a high heel it be), the Cat sashays over to join the short line. It's that magical time between shifts, when the day-workers have all gone home and the night-workers got their drinks earlier. For a Starbucks in New York? It's very, very quiet.

It's more than two shakes of a lamb's tail, but granted, there were two people in line before her. Felicia enjoys the hell out of confirming the order involving eight shots of espresso as well as the puppacino; her own drink is a tall vanilla latte with a hit of butterscotch syrup. She returns to the table with the drinks after they're called out and, frankly, sits down to watch Bucky avidly. It is eight shots of espresso, after all.

Lili gets her puppacino sat down before her paws.

Winter Soldier has posed:
And immediate permission to mlem the hell out of it. Lili's going to town, pink tongue working overtime. James, for his part, is just....drinking it. "THis is a lot better'n the stuff we used to drink back when. Hell, food overall's better, I gotta say," he says. Deliberately ignoring the way the baristas are watching them both.

Like they're waiting for him to go off like a rocket. "I really like this peppermint flavor," he adds. "I mean, this stuff might as well be a dessert."

Black Cat has posed:
"Yeah? I mean, I like peppermint chocolate mousse more, but a drink like that will do in a pinch." When she looks over towards the baristas, they pretend to not have been watching. Back they go to rinsing containers and readying implements for the next drink.

Felicia returns her attention to Bucky and continues to rest her elbows on the table, her drink cupped in her hands before her chin. Her eyes teem with mischief. "What did you drink back then? Engine oil? Grinds and water?" There's not a remnant of lipstick left on her white lid. It's magical make-up, clearly!

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Army coffee. So, yeah, basically, engine oil, dirt, and water," he allows. "Though the instant lemonade stuff was worse. It was like battery acid." And Buck pulls a face at that, at the mere memory.

Lili's trying to pin the cup with her paw, and succeeds only in upping her adorable level by orders of magnitude. "Where do you get a peppermint chocolate mousse?" he wonders, clearly intrigued by the idea

Black Cat has posed:
"Blech. I literally can't imagine. You couldn't pay me to drink that stuff." Another quick wrinkle of her nose and Felicia sips her latte as if to cleanse her palate of the mere idea of battery-acid-lemonade. The quiet rattling of the cup on the floor makes her lean to one side, the better to admire the Shepherd at her task. It makes the Cat giggle. "Cutie," she murmurs.

"And you get peppermint chocolate mousse at my favorite restaurant." She names the place. It's found in Manhattan and if Bucky knows it, it's a place where the hoi-polloi do not mingle. Reservations are rarely made and tables literally owned. It also has an amazing view of the river through the cityscape. "I can request it and they make it. It's verrrrry nice," she purrs.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"It was what we had....but man, did we bitch when it was all we had," he allows, simply. The drink might as well be warm milk, for all the reaction he shows to it. T hough he really does seem to like the taste.

The name he knows...and it makes his lip curl. Being very definitely part of the hoi polloi....and without someone like Janet to make him presentable.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia sits up straighter upon seeing the expression. "Boy, that's..." A sigh and her eyes slide off to one side. "Yeah, my bad. I wasn't trying to brag, just so you know. They really do make amazing chocolate mousse. I can bring you some one time, if you want? You're a friend and all."

By the way the Cat rolls her eyes back to meet and hold the pale ones across from her, it's an offering of something akin to an apology. "...also, you're not twitching yet. That's nuts."

Winter Soldier has posed:
He lifts that hand, covered in black silk. "It's fine. Sorry. I got, uh, kind of....some leftover feelings from growing up poor, even before the Depression. Sure, I'd like that. And I know you weren't. You're a high-class dame, you don't think about it...."

Yes, he's teasing her. "I told ya. You'd need something a lot stronger. They used to give us stimulants in the war - bennies."

Black Cat has posed:
"Heeeeeyyyyyyy..." the Cat drawls with only a hint of warning. Her smirk is sharp for a passing second. "Pfft." That's the dismissal Bucky gets of his tease, as nonchalant as his own was leveled. She does lift eyebrows at the mention of stimulants, however.

"Seriously? Bennies. Bennies..." comes the echo and she frowns at him, visibly trying trying to remember what that might stand for. Lo and behold, the generational gap is real. "I mean, it makes sense. You guys had to be ready for just about anything except for things, like, aliens and plasma guns back then."

Winter Soldier has posed:
"An early form of what they now call meth," he says. "Benzedrine. That stuff'd keep you up for days. Germans had their own version. And hell, we had to be ready for things like aliens and plasma cannons, we just didn't know it." Story time with crabby Uncle Bucky.

....says the man putting away what might as well be liquid cocaine, at this point.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia blinks. "Alright, so, you can't just go around saying that you fought in World War Two and you had to fight aliens and plasma cannons, bud, and think you're not going to expand just a titch on it." She pinches a minute amount of space between her fingers as accent before returning her hand to cupping at her latte. "Also, like, how are you //not// a meth-head because of that? Is it the whole..."

Bucky gets a pointed finger drawn in a lazy circling towards his body. There's something contemplative about it for a gleam of a second. "...the whole physiology thing?"

The whole 'Winter Soldier' thing, but even the Cat can be prudent.

Winter Soldier has posed:
He favors her with a blink, as Lili burps delicately beneath the table. "I.....yeah," he says. "Haven't I told you about it before? I mean, the whole war thing. I....uh....I enlisted on December 7th, 1941. Ended up in the 107th, fought in North Africa. So far's I know, I'm the last living guy who was part of Torch, Husky, and Overlord." James pauses, takes a slow breath, and then another sip of his drink.

"Well, they took me off of that. I mean, I had a pretty hard habit by mid-war. You'd get so exhausted....but when the Germans got me, I didn't get any, not anymore. So, I got detoxed as part of the experiments. Then....when Steve rescued me, I didn't need 'em anymore. So I gave 'em away when I got 'em."

Black Cat has posed:
Bucky's sip of drink is unconsciously mirrored. Across the table from him, the platinum-blonde listens intently with the slightest tilt of her head, yet another social signal that she's giving him her full attention. Even Lili and her masticatory delight doesn't distract.

"It makes sense to me." Her tone is light as she shrugs. "If you didn't have any need to keep them, giving them to your fellow soldiers might help more than hinder. I've tried meth once, back in college," she admits. "It was...I mean, it was pretty crazy. I didn't like how it made me feel, so I didn't try it again. I get my kicks out of my side-hobbies these days." Her smirk is pleased and not one bit self-depricating. "You don't look half-bad for a recovered meth-head."

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Perfect homeostasis," he says, with that rueful twist to his lips. "'s what the doctor who worked on me used to say was the goal. I didn't like the way the bennies made me feel. Too, uh, cranked up."

Buck spreads his hands. "I haven't.....I couldn't do drugs if I wanted to. Can't drink. Can't get high. They can dose me with some of the modern high-powered opioids, but the doctors get antsy. You don't wanna be the guy who killed Captain America's sidekick with a fentanyl OD."

Black Cat has posed:
"I can't imagine you'd want to be that guy, no. Captain America would go star-spangled on your ass and you'd regret every minute of it." She still grins, just a little, as if the idea were both terrible and funny. "It's amazing that you two are still around. I mean, what are the chances?" She spreads her hand off of her latte. "Like...pretty freakin' small -- and the world..."

Falling uncharacteristically silent, Felicia looks down at her coffee's lid. It's still free of red lipstick -- witchcraft, truly. "Boy, I bet that was weird as hell. I bet it's still weird as hell. But hey, we're not here to mope! You're supposed to be twitching and where's my entertainment for the evening?" Another brilliant grin is shot at Bucky.

The Cat then waves her hand again dismissively. "Eh, it's okay, no big. We'll try twelve shots next time. I want to see if there's a cut-off point where the baristas get worried about liability. It's a plan! You watch for my text, okay, bub? For now, tell me more about Army food. I want to really appreciate what I have in my high-falutin' experiences." Of course, another wink. She's shameless.