12866/That's New

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That's New
Date of Scene: 20 March 2021
Location: Westchester, The Bronx
Synopsis: The safehouse needed a stove!
Cast of Characters: Phobos, Black Widow (Romanoff)




Phobos has posed:
    Safehouses are nothing new to SHIELD agents. Every intelligence agency needs sites in active areas for their operatives to function from, to provide support, and give them a place to recharge. They're often in areas that are populated but not heavily so. Areas where there is either very little population, or a good amount of population is ideal, with activity providing its own form of cover. Such as this one in Westchester, the Bronx.
    A three story home on a skeletal lot amidst a line of almost identical homes all almost entirely empty. Several down the street are likely focal points for a drug trade, others along the road have people shut in who don't venture out unless they have to, as the neighborhood and the times have passed them by.
    Yet this one, standing tall and green in a sickly pea-soup variety of the color, it had served the last few days. Though it did not appear on any manifest nor logistical inventory for SHIELD.
    Though for now SHIELD agents used it.
    Later in the evening, past eleven, Agent Aaron made his way down the street. Civvies were what the night called for. Jeans, black sweat shirt, white sneakers, and a large black winter coat that was buttoned up with only three buttons. He didn't disguise his arrival. Chances are the other operative there would detect his approach rather easily. But as he opened the door he lifted his voice just a moment before closing it.
    "Hey!" A single word called out, no code, no secret message. Just a greeting.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The first floor looked line one would expect. It was run down. There was a living room, dining room, kitchen without appliances and a library that had seen better days. There were some scattered bits of furniture but they were obviously very old, possibly from a second-hand store. It didn't really have a lot of features that would stand out, no personal touches. It didn't feel really lived in yet it had been seeing a lot more traffic of late.

Natasha was already there, sitting no the worn down couch that could really use some new springs on one end. She was on the opposite. She had a paper plate in her hands with a piece of cheese toast that she was munching, a bottle of water on the floor in front of her. She was dressed casually. A pair of jeans and a sweater, feet covered in socks. Her boots were on the floor by the end of the couch.

As he entered, she gave a little wave since she was still chewing. Once she swallowed, she managed a smile and proper greeting. "Hey. How did work go? Watch with Kelso, right?"

Phobos has posed:
    The first floor was all about disguise, perfectly furnished for the run down area, set to look like someone could be living there... might not be. Yet with little of interest to draw the eye. Natasha's presence and the paper plate, however, definitely didn't entirely gibe with the image that disguise was trying to cultivate.
    Then again neither did the presence of the tall Olympian as he steps through the door and lightly thumps his shoes near the entrance to clear some of the snow from their tread. His lip curved up a little as he started to slip out of that coat, sliding his arms free and turning his back to her, albeit briefly, as he lifted the heavy thing and hung it over the hook on the door.
    At least the room was chipper and warm. If only the fireplace had been cleaned in the last twenty years. "Yes" He answers her, but something is pregnant in the way he says that word, as if more were on their way and the portent was ill.
    "Not exciting. But. I spoke with Skye on my way out."
    A pause as he looks back to her, "And she knows who I am."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
That has Natasha going still a moment as she considers the ramifications. It was not really surprising that Skye would figure it out. She knew the woman was digging. And it was in the records that he was the son of John Aaron. Someone who had been a consultant for SHIELD a few times and was a friend of Natasha's.

"As in she knows who your father is and thus you are Olympian? Or as in Phobos?" She wasn't concerened that Skye would do something bad with the knowledge but it was something they had to be awware of now.

Phobos has posed:
    The young personification of Fear starts to walk forward, resting his hand upon the banister for the stairs, he smiles as he looks sidelong at her. One foot comes up to sit on the lowest step as he tilts his head sideways, "Well. She met my father apparently, and his image is in my file. So while she was poking around she recognized him..."
    A shrug is given, then he makes a face. "So she knows I'm related to a man who calls himself Ares. But I don't think she has anything concrete beyond that." He bites his lower lip for a moment thoughtfully then adds. "However..."
    A faint smile lights his features, "I don't think she's going to do anything with the information." His eyebrows rise, "In fact, I think she's going to clean it up a little more so the next person won't be able to make that connection."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"She had asked me about your story. As I thought she would. I told her any story you had was your own to tell so she took that at face value, I guess," Natasha said as she picked up her plate and water, preparing to follow him upstairs. Easier to talk when on the same floor and not screaming back and forth.

"She did meet John. In my office, I think. We were consulting with him about the Apokolips Invasion a few years back, for advice on how to deal with them." In case he wasn't in the know that his father did that. He was still a boy at the time after all. "If she does clean up your records, she will make them foolproof. No one will suspect anything if they look you up after that. She's one of the good ones so I don't think she'd do anything amiss with the info."

Phobos has posed:
    "Yeah," Alexander says as he ascends, shoes clumping and stumping as he takes each step at a time. A few more steps as he makes it to the top and then steps out of his shoes, using the toe of the other to pull at the ankle, then repeating the same once free of that sneaker. He waits for her to follow him up as he leans there with both hands upon the banister, and a hip leaning there as well.
    "She was concerned others finding it out and using it to target me. I told her I wasn't hugely concerned. But we'll see." A deep breath is taken and then he says formally. "What did you do with your day, Agent Romanoff?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Targeting the son of the god of war?" Natasha says it like she's testing it out, not sure if that makes any sense or not. "While yes, it is possible you could be targeted by enemies of your father, should it become known who your father is outside being John Aaron: Construction worker and union man."

She had picked up her shoes as well, wandering off toward the bedroom to put them down for now. Then she stepped back into the hall. "If they were to learn who you actually are the son of, they'd be stupid if they targeted you then."

She shrugs to the question about what she did though. "Took the day off. Did a little shopping."

Phobos has posed:
    Rounding about as the other operative gets squared away and reemerges, Alexander returns to the ascent up those steps, climbing with a few tromps and stomps along the way until he reaches the second landing. Pausing there to look back down toward her he says, "I think she might not have understood why I was not worried, but... I don't know. Couldn't think how to say it without it coming off as hubris."
    That said he rounds and moves into the second floor area with its storage and equipment areas clear to view in that first room. There's the training area, with mats and equipment, then the storage with gear and crates. And then there's the tacit living area with...
    The youth stops, hands on his hips for an instant, then points with one hand. "That. Is somewhat new, isn't it?"
    He glances in the direction of the kitchen, then waits for Natasha to join him before affixing her with his curious hazel gaze.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Natasha looks the direction he points. "I did mention I went shopping."

She follows him into the kitchen to look at the suspicious item in question. "I was tired of the hotplate." Which he might spot that offending appliance sitting in the trash can nearby. "I figured the place could use an actual cooking surface." She motions to the brand new four-burner stove sitting in place looking all silver and shiny. "Went with the stainless steel since it's durable and looks good. Turns out the gas to this place was still available so just had to hook it up and voila!" She flipped a burner and there was a tiny hiss of sound then the fwip of the flames coming to life on the burner itself. She slips it back off and it extinguishes. "And..."

She opens a cabinet by the stove. "I got a few pots and pans too." It's just like a boxed set that can be purchased, a few of each size, all non stick.

Phobos has posed:
    She can likely tell there's a stream of thoughts that flicker through his mind. Words unvoiced, thoughts given no iteration. But the way his features shift a little in the course of the next twelve seconds likely gives her some insight. It starts with a little furrow to his brow hinting at confusion. Then a smile playing at the corner of his mouth until his lips come together pursing as if to start to say the word, 'but,' only for him to draw those lips inwards as if biting his tongue to prevent himself from saying something he might regret.
    Sliding his hands into his pockets he walks over and casually nudges the stove with the toe of his shoe, just enough to cause the metal to make a small 'clank' of sound before he nibbles at the inside of his lip before he turns around to look at her. "Hnh." He finally offers.
    "This is." Another pause, "Surprising." But when he looks back at her and half-smiles, "It's... a little domestic. Don't you think?"
    Dangerous words, even for a deity.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
She can read those expressions but waits patiently for him to work through them to find the right words to use. Then he chooses the ones he apparently thought were best.

She considers then shrugs. "If you like the hotplate so much, you can use it." She fishes it out of the trash can and sets it on a countertop where it once had been. "You get to clean it though." Not that there was anything /in/ the trash can as it was a new bag in there but still!

"I am not sure why it is wrong to be able to cook food if stuck in a safehouse."

Phobos has posed:
    "No, no it's... not wrong." He continues to work at his lower lip thoughtfully as he turns to her and takes a step closer to the oven, drifting fingertips over its surface. Then eyeballing the hot plate and he smirks a little. Something amused seems to light his gaze as he shakes his head and rests a hand on the old and to be honest rather ratty cooking device, then gently nudges it into the trash can again, like a cat non-chalantly knocking a vase off of a shelf. Thud.
    He turns back to her and says with a smile that's restrained, but curious. "Just kind of, you know. A step. As it were. In. Life. Things."
    Which is clearly a brilliant rendition of philosophy about one's progress through existence.
    That said he takes a step toward her and he tilts his head to the side a little. "I umm, kind of like it. Does that make me weird?" He says as he blindly feels his way through what could be a relationship with all the expertise and aplomb of a blind man in a mine shaft filled with razor blades.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
And there is where he made the mistake. As he says it is a step, Natasha goes very still. Then with each word after, her eyes are narrowing. "It's a stove. Not a life anything. Not a step. It's just a stove because sometimes I like to cook more than one item at a time. Don't read more into it."

Then he adds he likes it even though he stated it was a 'step' and that gets him a hard shove from the smaller woman. She was strong for her size and her intention is for him to have to step back and likely bump into the opposite wall right behind him.

Phobos has posed:
    There's a /thump/ as he hits the wall behind him though he laughs a little as he holds his hands up, as if trying to stave off another violent outburst of such grand magnitude. But he's still smiling, though perhaps a hint of amusement touches his eyes as well. "Hey. I'm just saying..."
    A glance over towards the stove, then back to the terribly aggressive 5'3" former ballerina. "I kind of like it." Then he uncurls a hand as he explains himself. "For a variety of reasons."
    Which he might actually seem like he's about to pull it off with that particular reason or excuse, perhaps even in the home stretch of having it accepted before he adds. "So you like to cook. Hnh."
    It might not be what he says, but how he says those five words. The jerk.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
He is just determined to try and rile up the former Russian assassin. "Yes, I do like to cook. For me. Not anyone else, when they are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves," she says as she takes two steps forward to close that distance between them. Yes, one of his, two of hers.

"Now if someone want to cook /for/ me, that would be even better. I could go workout while they slaved over the stove. Y'know, if you are interested in that job."

Phobos has posed:
    There's a hint of something between them, a tinge of an edge even as she takes those two steps and looks up at him, his head lowering a little to stay eye to eye. He straightens up and then lifts a hand to touch a stray crimson lock that hangs just close to the subtle curve of her brow, then pushes it back as if clearing it from her eyes.
    His gaze lowers to meet her green irises, his own flitting back and forth as if seeking which might hold a better window to her thoughts and her soul. At first he bites his lower lip, then takes a breath before he murmurs quietly.
    "I think I could be convinced." Then those same fingertips curve along her cheek, his other hand resting upon her hip as he takes a step to close the distance entirely, not sure whether this might have been in her thoughts, or if perhaps a stove truly is just a stove.
    His eyes close as he leans in.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Does this mean another sparring match?" she asks with a hint of amusement. "We know how that ended the last time. With me winning." In case he had forgotten. She had considered phrasing it different then thought that was probably most prudent phrasing.

As he tucks that lock of hair away, she doesn't budge. Nor as he steps in, putting his hand on her hip. She has to tilt her head to look up at him, since he is a few inches taller than her. Then he is leaning in and she tilts her head opposite his, rising up on tiptoe to meet him halfway for a kiss.