11000/That's Not How You Play Gin-Rummy.

That's Not How You Play Gin-Rummy.
Date of Scene:	06 February 2020
Location:	Medical, Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Cards help pass the time while everyone's enduring the inanity of the medbay.
Cast of Characters:	Wasp (van Dyne), Captain America

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Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:

"Skip, skip, reverse, reverse, draw four!" Janet slams the last card in her hand down on the hospital bed between her and Steve, and beams triumphantly up at the recovering soldier. As he's sitting propped up in the bed, she's straddling the bed near the foot of it, with her bare feet dangling over the sides. Carefully manicured toes wriggle with triumph.

"Wanna play again?" she asks Steve, already reshuffling the deck. It's been a few days he's been quarantined in the hospital bay of the Avenger's tower, though at least he's now off drip medications and saline, and onto protein shakes and the aggressive antibiotic mix that was prescribed to him and Tony. She's in a rose-red one-piece sleeveless romper, with a collared neckline and shorts brief enough to be anticipating a spring that's a few weeks off yet. "We can go back to Gin, you seem to lose at that a lot less."

Captain America has posed:
Janet gets a squint.

"...no, we can do another round at this," replies the bedridden super-soldier with a suspicious gleam in his eye. Normally, Bucky's giving him this look when they play gin-rummy and poker -- now it's his turn to wonder at Lady Luck's fickle wiles verses somebody STACKING THE DECK. "'s'not a matter of losing anyways. Gotta pass the time somehow." He does blow a sigh that flutters his blond bangs; they remain longer given he's not had time (or the release from the medbay) to get a proper haircut. Janet was kind enough to run a straight-razor over his face to remove the itchy scruff.

"What do you want to do once 'm out of here? Missed a lot of date nights," the man notes with a dimpled grin.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Yes, by my count, you owe me at least two dates per week," Janet says, and starts dealing cards back to Steve. If she's stacking the deck, it's not in a way readily apparent to a watchful eye. She frowns at her cards, nails flicking the corners in thought.

"Plus one per weeked. At least one gala event. Few trips to the movies. Plus interest, compounding," she tells Steve, and lays down a card to start the next set of exchanges. "Penalties for interest accruing over time, additional fees for not calling me to tell me where you were, and then there's a roaming/distance charge. Oh, and the extra fee for rescuing you, we can't forget that."

Janet holds her cards over her mouth, failing to hide a smile that dances around her green eyes. "Yeah you're gonna be on the hook for a while, I think."

Captain America has posed:
Steve's eyebrows do their sardonic lift while his own cards hide his own smile. He makes a grand show of fussing over which card to put down then, bringing the hand down low enough and plucking at each one with a fingertip. Blip -- blip -- blip -- blip --

"Sounds like a mess of numbers," he agrees, pursing his lips in theatrical thoughtfulness, his eyes still upon his hand. "Reminds me of when SHIELD had to account for everyone's 401Ks being budgeted when I showed up again 'nd had some investments." He tosses down his next card to counter Janet's starting gambit. "Wonder about when 'm gonna sleep in there, given there's a backlog of paperwork to deal with back at the Triskelion. Being a senior agent there's a matter of importance, y'know." He gives Janet a dramatically-blithe look, as if this should be blaringly obvious in the scheme of things.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Is that really the best use of your time?" Janet inquires of Steve, with a tone that's droll and sympathetic, but yet just a bit suggestive. Dark-painted lashes bat twice at him. "C'mon. There have to be dozens of agents who can handle that kind of nonsense, right? They got by without for a month, they can get by without you doing paperwork indefinitely, as far as I'm concerned. You're a lot more useful in the field than behind a desk."

"And anyway, you're not going back to duty until I'm done with you," she informs him with a regal toss of her head. "You owe me a healthy backlog of lovin' and dutiful adoration. I--" she says, with an imperious tone, and throws down a card. "Take precedence."

Captain America has posed:
And Steve throws down a counter-card nearly on the tail of the Wasps's card landing on the haphazardly growing pile on the gurney sheeting.

"'m not saying 'm gonna go in there 'nd tackle whatever pile's been growing on my desk. Nobody in the right mind is gonna let that stand. The interns are there for a reason," he notes with a hint of a smile. "The bullpen's probably all over the paperwork. I know they know 'm back, my phone flooded with emails about twelve hours after Banner had me stabilized. Had to silence it."

The object on the bed's side-table still gets an idle glance and he cranes his head to see what's on the screen. Not important by how he settles back into the pillows again. "You do take precedence, <<seillean>>, 'nd I know you'll be beside me if anything crops up that needs our attention."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Nothing's going to need our attention for the next /month/ at least," Janet tells Steve, quite firmly. "And I don't care who complains about it. Fury can call me up and complain and he'll get an earful from me about hiring more interns. God knows what he does with that black hole he calls a 'budget'," she says, sourly. "They can buy a few less spy satellites this year and hire a couple more staffers to handle the paperwork. You," she says, and flicks the edge of a card pointedly. It's cast on the pile with the spinning grace of a falling autumn leaf. "You, I need in bed. Resting."

She draws a card. "Or whatever," she adds, and feins a coy glance.

Captain America has posed:
"Or whatever," Steve echoes with laughter beneath his words. His next card is flung horizontally from between fingers and it skates to just off-center atop the pile. "Doubt it'd be Fury interrupting this month you're budgeting out. It'd be somebody in connection to Mikonia."

Some of his light-hearted air fades and like a goose knows south, he looks off in the direction of the Triskelion. He knows the alien-bounty hunter nee general is still confined somewhere within.

"Still, the idea of Fury trying to convince you to let me come in..." And the Captain chuckles, the mirth coming back to bring his eyes up into that breathless blue that once captivated audiences on-stage. "Odds aren't in his favor."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Mikonia's dealing with a really nasty infestation of ticks in her cell," Janet remarks, and examines the cards in her hand. "Not that I know anything about it. They say those holding cells are isolated chambers but I guess something keeps getting in through the drain system. Someone *really* ought to look into that."

Her tone remains quite light despite Steve's sudden introspection. "And no. The odds aren't in anyone's favor. I'm not letting you out of my reach until my peace of mind is assuaged," she tells Steve. "Which might take a while. Also, you need a new mattress. Yours is awful and lumpy, and if you're not in it, then there's a giant dent in the thing whenever I try to sleep. I keep rolling onto my side. I can't sleep on my side."

Captain America has posed:
There go the eyebrows again. "Can't sleep on your side? I had no idea," he comments honestly. "'s'nice to be able to fall asleep wherever I want when I can manage it. Could try developing that skill?" It's a rhetorical suggestion by the way Steve smiles faintly down at his hand of cards.

"Got that mattress last year anyways. It can be flipped, it's got two sides to it." Pragmatism shines as brightly as his spangled shield here. He plucks one card to place it elsewhere in his hand. "'nd I'll be fine, <<seillean>>. Don't need to mother-hen me. Buck did enough of that growing up. Portal was just a thing of bad luck." He doesn't seem overbothered by the entire affair by the way he looks levelly at Janet over his cards. "I'll be fine. All's well." She gets a soft smile.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"....I'm sorry, in what universe did you think this was a discussion?" One of Janet's immaculate brows hikes minutely, and she brushes a troublesome bit of hair behind her ear. It's grown out enough to curl into bangs over her eyes and a roll at the top of her neck. "I'm buying you a new mattress, and you're pitching the old one," she informs him. "A nice one, too, one of those ultra-comfort ones like at my place. Hah!"

She slaps a card down and beams with a triumphant swing of her hand. "Reverse, draw four."

Captain America has posed:
Both hands are held up, one with a fan of cards and the other palm-out, as if Steve were under the black maw of a gun pointed dead at himself.

He then glowers down at the card thrown. "Right, well..." -- and after drawing four cards, throws down the exact card. "Right back at you, Shortcakes."

Despite his bigger fan of cards, the Captain seems lacking in dismay. "'nd you wanna buy that mattress, you buy it. 'm not stopping you. Might be nice to see what sleeping on the world's most refined marshmallow feels like," he teases gently as he considers his cards.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet draws four with a smooth gesture and adds them to her hand. She doesn't seem the least disheartened by the reversal, though she does rock around so she can fold one leg under her and sit on her calf for a bit more support.

"It feels exactly like sleeping in my bed in the penthouse," Janet repeats with an exaggerated patience. "You know, when you wake up, and you don't do all that old man groaning and creaking, and popping your back? Like you do when we sleep in the Mansion? Or in your shoebox in Brooklyn?"

"Six thousand square foot apartment with a sauna and a private deckside hot tub, and /you/ make me schlepp down to Brookyln to listen to your neighbor's cat screeching in the alley at three AM." Janet's sour face extends when an exchange of cards leaves her with a net gain in her hand.

Captain America has posed:
Steve chuckles. "I dunno what you're going on about my back doing any sort of popping 'nd me groaning. Don't put actions to my body," he quips back. "'nd Brooklyn's home where no place else is on this planet. The cat's not the worst thing."

He smirks at Janet down the bed. "You should've heard what it sounded like at high summer in '38. Cats, kids, somebody dropping scrap metal off, engines backfiring 'n horns honking because somebody's stickball got knocked out into the street, somebody hollering at their spouse about getting home late from work...'nd that didn't include the rats in the walls," he points out with a literal point at the petite fashionista.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's hands spread at Steve with a boggled expression. "How is this /helping/ your argument? 'It's not as awful as it used to be?'" she rebukes him. "That's like saying 'Oh we should just find a place in the Bronx, there's way less murder and street crime than there was ten years ago."

A hand bats at his index finger with no force, and curls around it instead to wave his hand back forth with a gentle swaying. "I'm just saying, while you're recuperating, stay with me," she clarifies encouragingly. "There's staff on hand to do the cleaning, we can send someone into town for food if the chef can't make it in. You can paint! You do love my studio, you said so yourself," she accuses him.

Captain America has posed:
Leaving his finger in her grip, Steve smirks mildly as he listens to the full plan put forth. "<<Seillean>>," he begins quietly. "I'll stay with you for a while, that's not the thing. Don't mind your place at all. It's about the comfiest place on the planet. I do love the studio with the lighting 'nd the view -- it never ceases to make me want to sit 'nd indulge in some brush-on-canvas."

Turning his fingers under, he then captures the fashionista's more delicate grip and gives an inwards tug so he can lean to kiss at her knuckles. "But I need you to understand that 'm not always gonna be at your place. 'm gonna be needed, 'nd 'm gonna come back. I always do."

A beat. "That, 'nd if you think you're gonna play that run of Skips 'nd Reverses, you've got another thing coming."

Because he totally peeked at her hands of cards while he used his Boy Scout charm to his advantage.

No wonder Barnes hates playing poker with him.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet narrows her eyes at Steve, mostly because his entirely effective technique is working a little *too* well on the fashionista, who ought to know better, and yet falls for it anyway. The eyenarrowing does nothing to suppress a smile, however slight, and it forces a bashful drop of her gaze.

"Steve, I'm not-- well, I mean, yes, I'm totally advocating that we drop everything and move to the Canary Islands," she admits. "But I've always been pretty up front about that. And I know it's not practical. Fun, and .... full of reckless hedonism, sure..."

She lifts his hand to her lips, kisses his knuckles, and then dimples the skin of his index finger with a gentle bite.

"But, I know you've got duties. I have duties. I have a business to run. Not to mention--" she gestures vaguely around them at the Avenger's mansion. "It's not like I wouldn't miss this life."

Two can play at Steve's game, though, and his Earnest True-Blue Gaze is countered with a theatrical dampness in the corner of Janet's eyes. "You keep saying 'I gotta not be with you sometimes'." She tries to wibble a lip but it just turns into a pout. "I mean, that's hurtful, Steven. It's very hurtful."

"Also, draw two," she says, and makes a forlorn little play in order to go along with her forlorn little appeal for pity.

Captain America has posed:
Ouch, Wasps bite! -- but not hard at all, it's more that Steve is surprised to be nibbled upon. The jumpt of his eyebrows communicate that clearly enough. He recovers quickly enough with his own faint smile and accompanying narrow of his eyes.

After he rescues his hand from her grip, the Captain plucks two cards and then grimaces after he needs must pull another //three//. Ouch indeed.

Janet still gets a long, measuring look after the man places his cards, face-down, on his lap. "...you can't be //that// worried about me, Shortcakes?" Uncertainty makes his voice quieter.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet winces. Well, that plea backfired on her. "Goddamnit," she says, and heaves a forlorned sigh like a teenager resigned to an unpleasant task. She looks at her hand, then folds it and drops it on the bed in front of her thighs to indicate she's giving Steve her full attention.

"I don't-- honey, I *know* you're not going to step out on me," Janet says, and taps the side of her head. "But down here?" Two fingers rest over her heart. "I don't hear 'Duty calls and I have to serve my country', down here. I know that's what you *mean* to say," she assures him. "Maybe... ugh." Fingertips press to her brow and she sighs.

"I keep forgetting I'm your first girlfriend. This is one of those couple/language things," she says, and expresses it with a back-and-forth of her fingertips between the two of them. The effort to exude some extra self-awareness looks physically taxing for the petite fashionista. "Every breakup begins with 'I need space' and 'I think I just want to be on my own' and 'Don't drop by, I have plans with someone'. There's a reason I don't text you with 'We need to talk'," Janet says with a very pointed look. "Because there is no good talk that follows that statement. I know you're married to the job. It's part of why I love you. I'm not asking you to change that," she promises him.

A sudden lopsided smile crosses her face. "I just wish you'd stop talking about your job like you're having an affair with the Triskelion behind my back." The smile turns into a beaming expression as a fractional moment of self-realization breaks through the oftime vapid self-absorption. "That's it, isn't it. You're cheating on me with SHIELD. Is it because they look better in a black jumpsuit?" She rocks up to a kneeling position on the bed, fists on her hips. "Or do you just have a secret kink for imposing granite buildings? I can do a whole fashion line, 'Regulation Government Building'. Everything will be that shade of institutional taupe and linoleum green."

Captain America has posed:
At first, having an accusation of unfaithfulness thrown in his face has Steve's mouth dropping open in bewilderedment. "Bwuh -- ?" is all he manages before the rest of the line of thought takes a turn for the more ludicrous; it softens the impact of the entire affair and he laughs softly if wryly to himself.

"Throw some 'gunmetal grey' 'nd 'caution tape yellow' in there 'nd you've got yourself a multi-jurisdictional fashion line," he agrees. "'nd never have I ever said anything like 'I have plans with someone else'. Doesn't matter if you're my first gal, 'm not going anywhere. Dunno how else to phrase that 'm not gonna be able to spend as much time as you'd like because 'm needed, Janet."

His broad shoulders rise and fall in a shrug as he quietly sighs, never looking away from her face. "Y'know you're my <<seillean>> -- my Shortcakes -- nothing's gonna change that, not even a backlog of emails 'nd a sudden attack on a bioweaponry facility by Crossbones," he offers as an example. "Or a near-month's time away on another planet. You don't have to worry."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet knee-walks forward and settles into Steve's lap, with a feline possessiveness. At the crack about additional colors, Janet grins in amusement and squeezes his hips with her knees. The petite Avenger rests her rear against his thighs and loosely interlocks her wrists behind his neck, arms lazily extended.

When he calls her by that pet name, the grin turns into something that is quite a bit more affectionate and full of warmth. "See, *that* is progress," Janet says, and touches her nose to the tip of Steve's with a playful touch before sagging back again. "Now just lead with that all the time, and stop comparing me to your paperwork priorities. Like..." She rolls her lips inwards and searches the sky with a theatrical upwards look and her shoulders rocking back and forth. "'Honey, I'm so sorry, I want to stay in bed but I have to go do sexy soldier stuff somewhere'," she offers as an example. "Or, 'Oh hey, I'm going to be late, but it's because I'm fighting for Freedom and I have to do it with my shirt off, so I'll be all sweaty and mussy when I get home and ravish you."

She looks at Steve again, then raises her brows promptingly. "Soooo... when you go back to work, you're going to need a few days to get caught up, and you're going to text me wiiiiiith....?"

Captain America has posed:
Warmth sinks into the back of his neck where Janet's hands interlink and settle. The tension of her arms is light against it and Steve can't help the fond little smile when the fashionista considers the ceiling as if for deep fonts of wisdom.

He can't help the little cough of a laugh at the examples to follow, nor does his Irish heritage save him from blush showing at the tips of his ears. When prompted, Janet at first receives an arched eyebrow and a grin just this side of wicked.

"I'll text you with a wonderment about what you're wearing 'nd a reminder that I prefer to shower after strenuous engagements," he offers.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"I'm sorry, whose fantasy are we fulfilling here? Mine, that's right," Janet pre-empts Steve. Fingernails plow little furrows through the shaggy blonde hair at the back of his head. "I'm not saying make a habit of forgetting to shower after the gym," she adds, with a dry tone. "We'll compromise, and take a shower /together/." She pats his chest and rubs a palm briskly over his sternum.

"I say we bust you out of here today," Janet tells Steve. "I can have a medical suite brought into my place and I have a great private doctor. If it's just a matter of keeping you on IVs for a few more days, there's no reason for you to stay in this grotty little cupboard of a room," she remarks. Janet casts a dour look around the immaculate, well-lit medical facility, which would stand out even among the finest medical centers in the world. "We could set up a lounge for you in the living room," she offers. "Hospitals are the worst place for recovery, everyone knows this."

Captain America has posed:
Steve can't help the laugh now. It's belly-deep and more than likely might jounce the petite fashionista a bit where she's settled on his thighs.

"Shortcakes, 'm fine here. Look, wait a few more days -- just a few. 've got faith in your patience. Hmm?" A lift of eyebrows implies that he's fully aware of how patient the brunette can be when she puts her mind to it. Then you bet: we'll cart me off to your place 'nd your private doctor can do whatever else's necessary to finish off. Only, what..."

He reaches to pluck the small cylindrical orange bottle with white labeling and peers at it. "Two more days of this 'nd 'm scot-free, technically," he says as of the bottle of high-potency antibiotics.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Uh, no, I'm only good at patience if it's something I can't *get*," Janet informs Steve. "I have you, right in front of me, and I want to take you home and play with you there. Like a kid at Christmas."

She cranes her neck to examine the bottle, which brings her face near Steve's. Lips nuzzle at the side of his mouth distractingly, then she smoothly plucks the bottle from his loose grip and sits back on his knees to read the label.

"So if this and an IV drip is all you need, whyyy can't you just come home today?" The bottle's clutched tight to prevent Steve's predictable attempt to reclaim the medication Janet's now holding hostage, and she impishly clutches it behind her back with both hands. "Do you really enjoy hospital food that much? Or is it because someone ordered you to stay in bed, and you're physically incapable of defying orders? Here, I'll fix that-- I 'order' you to bedrest in a more wholesome environment," she advises Steve.

Captain America has posed:
"Janet." Her name comes on a sigh. Now Steve gives her a patient look, given she claims to be incapable of such a behavior.

"'m technically still contagious for whatever I have. You're brave enough nibbling at my lips as it stands. You wanna be taking those horse-pills too? 'nd stuck in a place like this? Because if you think you're gonna be relegated to a cot in your apartment if you test positive for whatever's still got Stark's face looking like a two burnt holes in a wet burlap sack, you've got another thing coming. You'll be stuck right here in the medbay, just like me."

He puts out an empty palm presumably for the bottle of antibiotics. "'m being responsible with a disease that isn't safe for anybody human. Not gonna tempt the safety of the city."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Yes, I know," Janet grumbles, sourly. "Hank's got me on them also. As a preventative measure. Kissing you means I haven't had a drink in *four* days. My brain feels like it's filled with molten fudge."

She eyes that outstretched palm, then slaps the pills into his hand and folds her arms huffily across her stomach, and sits back on Steve's knees again. "Spoilsport," she mutters, and sticks her tongue out at Steve a beat later. "And I'm not contagious," she adds. "Metabolism runs too hot and I wasn't exposed to enough of the bug. You and Tony were out there sucking ditchwater out of muddy streams, where... spacecows... pooped."

She makes a face. "Ugh. Now I *am* rethinking that kiss."

Captain America has posed:
"'m proud of you, <<seillean>>," compliments the Captain honestly at her current circumstance of sobriety. When the pill bottle rattles into his palm, he calmly puts it back on the sidetable and then settles his palms on her knees. In gentle mockery, he sticks out his tongue right back before chuckling through his grin.

"Dunno about spacecows, but definitely not any sorta clean water. Almost done though, remember?" Her knee gets a patpat of commisceration. "Believe me, I wish I'd been shot 'nd not had a gut full of foreign germs. Bullets're much more cut 'nd dried: lie here, wait for the wound to close, pull the stitches, don't do upper body workouts for a week, done 'nd over it." Janet still gets a coy little grin brimming with apology for the example chosen.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Spacecows," Janet repeats, stubbornly. She matches Steve's juvenile expression a few times, escalating the theatrics, then crawls forward and rotates so her shoulders are on Steve's chest and her head rests under his chin as she curls atop him.

"You're not allowed to get shot, either," she reminds Steve, and pinches his bicep pointedly before wrapping his arms around her like a blanket. "Or stabbed. Or anything else. You're not immortal," she says, pensively, and the angle makes her face hard to read.

"Just... really, really old," she quips, and wriggles in Steve's grasp.

Captain America has posed:
Given the breadth of his shoulders, there's more than enough warm chest for Janet to sprawl against. His arms are easy enough to maneuver and settle across the base of her ribs, their enwrapping presence interlinked by a grip at each of his own wrists in turn.

"I know 'm not imMORTAL -- " Volume briefly shoots upwards at the Wasp's deliberate movements. "Miss Van Dyne," he then grumbles, the very image of affront. His arms tighten against any further wiggling before he smacks a kiss hard and audibly against her hair.

"Don't make me hold you here 'nd tell you about the horrors of a time before Instagram 'nd things like no bubbling jet-tubs or mascara that ran at the least exposure to humidity -- oh, 'nd the fish markets down by the river, you'd love hearing about those if you're concerned about spacecows."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's knee elevates as she drags her toe along the inside of Steve's calf where it's outlined by the blanket, but then he starts in on fish markets and runny makeup. Her leg flops flat and Janet sighs with a weariness so profound one can almost hear her eyes rolling in her head as if to look back at Steve.

"Wow. So hot. I'm so turned on by this. This is good sexy banter," she informs Steve, her sarcasm as dry and withering as a Saharan breeze.

"And don't threaten to pin me down and hold me unless it's a promise you're willing to follow through on. Some things you just don't tease your girl about." Her voice lilts just a bit into something more sultry. Fingernails rake featherweight passes on his forearm.

"You know what you want for dinner? I can let the kitchen staff know. I'm sure you're sick of protein shakes."

Captain America has posed:
By the way his chest jounces, the man isn't even one bit sorry for his maligned banter. He relaxes his hold and lets out a long sigh that sounds even somewhat content. Janet might be a featherweight, but there's something about her familiar presence that loosens a concerned little corner of his heart. His head leans back against the pillows as he considers, eyeing the far wall of the medbay room from behind drooped lids without truly taking it in.

"Mmm...can't say 'm looking forward to another shake," he admits quietly. "Better keep it simple though. Chicken? Some sorta side, grains 'nd vegetables. Cuppa decaf coffee cut with some condensed milk -- if you can slip all that past the docs." Janet will feel his smile form against her dark hair before he kisses at it again.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's phone is already out and her thumbs flying over the virtual keyboard. It's almost as fast as Steve can dictate, though done in the shorthand of a season Millennial. "coffee... decaf... cream," she says, and off it goes to the Mansion's kitchen staff.

There's a few seconds of silence as Janet curls into Steve, reaffirming that cozy contentment he generates by dint of his mere presence. It's warm and reassuring, and the way she clings so closely to him speaks volumes about how his absence has affected her.

Her phone buzzes softly and Janet glances at the screen. "OK. Twenty minutes. We can start a new game up if you want," she offers, and slips off Steve's lap to start gathering the scattered cards up. "Want to try and teach me cribbage again? I think I was getting the hang of it," she offers.

Captain America has posed:
Up and down along one of her arms, to the shoulder rounding and to the elbow, Steve rubs a palm as if sensing the relaxation she's been missing for weeks and wanting to soothe all the more. She'll probably catch the minute lift of his head off the pillow at her phone's buzz as well as the nod to follow. Excellent. His stomach growls quietly in agreement.

"Sure, can teach you cribbage," the Captain agrees. "You were getting there. You'll have the hang of it shortly enough 'nd then we can start playing for keeps." His grin is easy and familiar as he holds out a hand after the cards are collected, set to shuffle them. "Alright, so after the draw 'nd the cut, you get six cards..."

In even less than twenty minutes, the food arrives, and it's as delicious as anticipated -- no one tell Pym!