13929/Life Choices

Life Choices
Date of Scene:	05 November 2021
Location:	Eastchester, The Bronx
Synopsis:	Alexander and Natasha discuss ideas for his future.
Cast of Characters:	Phobos, Black Widow (Romanoff)

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Phobos has posed:
    Autumn showers and overcast skies bring the dreariness to the Northeast. The city's color grows more prominent toward the greys seen in the world with the way the landscape seems to slowly blend together. Occasional hints of red and yellow lend some respite on the few trees that live along the streets, but overwhelming the world is one of monochromatic blandness with only a sparse touch of brown for the occasional hint of mud.
    Yet through those chilly months as the nights become longer, there are small touches that bring to mind that this too shall pass. They can come at the oddest times, taking one by surprise without warning.
    Such as a moment when one might look up, a morning during the weekend with the day beckoning and a future unplanned and so free with potential. A day when there are no obligations and if one were to allow a flight of fancy might imagine that there is nothing beyond the small world of the Victorian they live in. It's in one of those moments, with no weight of responsibility, with little in the offing, that the form of Phobos would be seen. Alexander to those that care. In reflection his features are at ease, handsome and gentle in that calm repose. His attention on the book he has open across his lap that offers some insight into Empire State University. Near at hand is a section of newspaper left on the sill of the window, and at the closest table is a pad of paper and a pen left for the moment.
    Yet if his features offer some look toward casual engagement yet easy relaxation... well his body language speaks much more toward how comfortable he must feel in the home he shares. For he's settled in a wooden chair, rocked back on its two legs, his own legs crossed at the ankles and upon that window sill. Casually the chair creaks back and forth as he leans a little forward, a little back, still thinking and distracted. Despite the change in temperature he seems to insist on still wearing shorts when about the house, long black basketball satinny shorts that have slid up his legs simply from the angle of the way he's seated. His t-shirt is a casual one with a kitten in an eyepatch on the front. Nine times out of ten he wouldn't gain a second glance. But in that bare moment as he leans back, in that single second as he leans back, the sun takes its time to reveal itself casting a ray of sunshine down through that window in the moment. It's enough to bathe his athletic form in a pale golden light. And for an instant... it might feel as if Spring is not so far off.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Days like this are pretty rare, especially at this time of year. In places further south, it might be taken for granted having that bright blue sky and sunlight year round. In New York, seasons were an actual thing.

Though the air was a little chilly, it wasn't enough to be uncomfortable. Especially for him since Olympians seemed to run warmer than the average human. Though there was a human in the house as well. She was wearing more than just a pair of shorts though. Instead a pair of yoga pants with an oversized t-shirt advertising Cobra Kai dojo. She had pulled on a gray cardigan, older and worn. Lightweight but enough to keep the chill off.

At the moment, she was sitting on the couch finishing up some work on a laptop. She paused to stretch her arms above her head, leaning back a little to relieve that crick she didn't want to settle into her neck.

That's when she caught sight of him there. The way he was so at ease as he looked over the university information. The light glistening on him, sort of highlighting his physique. She took her time looking over him. It wasn't ogling, at least in her mind. It was more like looking at a piece of art created by Michaelango, which had life breathed into it. He could blend in while being a good looking person in a crowd. But at certain times, that unearthly beauty was there.

She remained there looking at him for long moments but made sure if he started to turn her way, her eyes were back on her screen and fingers on the keyboard.

Phobos has posed:
    For the moment his attention remained on the catalog in front of him. Possible futures flitted through his thoughts, possible ways to spend the next few years. Something preyed on those selfsame thoughts though he only looked up a little at first to focus off on some distant imagined vision. Yet whatever he had been thinking, it does spawn some sort of inner monologue, some hint to the internal conversation he must be having is seen there as his facial features subtly change. An eyebrow lifts and his head tilts to the side as if acknowledinge a point he himself had made, but then he takes a deep breath and seems to accept whatever counterpoint might have won the day.
    Yet his attention did stray in her direction. Just briefly, for a moment. A ghost of a smile flitted over his lips as he looked at her. Her laptop's cover, then past towards the kitchen that took up the corner of the house nearest the stairwell.
    Shaking his head he looked back and away, then leeeeeaned over slowly to grab the newspaper. It crinkled and rustled as he opened it a bit, turned the page, folded it.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
She managed to not smile. Keeping her attention on the screen in front of her a bit longer as she sifted through some documents sent over from SHIELD. Details about some ops that were finished and questions about future ones that would piggyback off those. The normal boring drivel. Which most people might not think it was boring but, for her, this was all so rote. She did it all the time. Day in, day out. Years. Decades.

She found her attention wandering to him again, looking over the line of his legs up to his shorts. Then further up his torso to his head. The way the sun was glistening in his hair. Another little lift at the corner of her lips as she admired him.

Things had been good of late for them. Getting used to things. It was different from what it had been but not uncomfortably so. Actually was pretty good all things considered. Though she wasn't sure what he was wanting to do from this point forward.

As he settled in with the paper, she tried to get a peek at what he was reading. At least which section of the paper he had opened it to.

Phobos has posed:
    It was, of course, the employment section. Though something about how his lip twisted might think he was reading it a bit ironically. Though there was a sour twist to his lips after a moment and a way his eyebrow cocked that might lead one to think he was also being a tough severe about his own prospects. Yet he did finally lift his voice as he murmured a little over his shoulder.
    "I've found my new career." He lightly gestures with the paper then adds, "Apparently I can make good money selling beauty products out of my home. That sounds like a good choice."
    Yet he turns the page, and part of him expects her to not respond since at times she is often engaged in her work. And, to be fair, they both often speak to each other with grumpy rhetorical statements or questions. For him it was at times a stream of consciousness thing. At others it was just to maintain that small connection with her and break the silence in the creaky old house.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"You'd make a killing at it," Natasha said in response, focusing back on him instead of the paper when he was speaking.

"Most Avon sellers are annoying people who harass you constantly at work. Now, you'd have to be okay with being objectified of course. But there are a lot of people who would be glad to buy stuff just to get to spend time with you. In the hopes of swaying you to dating them. Or just sleeping with them."

She couldn't help grinning. "It might be a good choice if you want to make a lot quickly."

Phobos has posed:
    As Natasha takes his premise and runs off with it she causes him to look back, folding the paper closed, and his eyes meeting her with incredulity. Shaking his head slightly he looks at her as if she were mad even as the grin at the end tells him she's joking. Somewhat.
    "I'm not serious." As if she had to be told that. But then his smirk twists his features again as he continues, "Or you know what, maybe I should skip the beauty products all together and just get a job down at that strip club, Mango's?" He gestures with a nod in the vague general direction of Uptown.
    "I mean sure I wouldn't be around much nights and okay they might not be so tolerant of me running off to do the occasional mission. But still." His smirk is crooked as he ups the ante, as if seeing if she'll chicken out first and tell him nooooo to the stripping.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"No, you cannot become an exotic dancer. First, there are not enough bullets to fight off the people wanting you. Second, we would need to move and have extra security measures because of the people following you home."

The fact she was approaching this logically might make him think she missed it was a joke. Until Natasha's smirk appeared as she added the final reason.

"And three, I would go broke stuffing your g-string." She winked playfully then glanced back down at her laptop. Not that she stayed focused there long. A moment then back to him.

"Still trying to decide about university or career? Or both?"

Phobos has posed:
    "Something like that, yeah." Alexander bites his lower lip in thought as his own eyes drift back to the newspaper, then the catalog under it before he looks to the distance again. It's a roundabout trip before his gaze returns to her.
    "I spoke to dad and he..." There's a slight tilt of his head then he waves a hand, the newspaper rustling. "Recommended I find something to maintain a connection to people. In general. Like how he tries to keep his head involved with the union and down at the work sites."
    His attention once again returns to the catalog as the newspaper is pulled to the side and slides off his lap even as he leaaaans further back in that chair. Most other people it would seem precarious, but she knows him well enough that he won't fall. Well, unless he wants to for some reason.
    "I could always go to graduate school. For. Something?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Which why would he want to? Course with him, he might do it just to make her laugh. He was like that at times. Thus his customary weird call-outs when he entered the house and she was home before him.

"You have connections to the world with me, at least. And our friends." Since his friends still wanted to remain as that, despite the situation that had happened with the loss of a teammate. "So that isn't as much of a worry. But having things to occupy your time and keep your mind busy are always good."

She considered his thought of graduate school, picking up her laptop to set on the cushion next to her. Not to get up but just since she wasn't dealing with it immediately and it was less precarious than a lap. She stretched a little again before continuing. "What do you like to do? What would you like to grow up to be?" she asked in that light joking tone.

Phobos has posed:
    A snort was the first answer she was given at that casual joke. He only then, however, leans forward as his feet slip off the window sill and the chair returns to all four legs with a wooden creak. Turning in his seat he rests an arm across the back of the seat and gestures with that hand. "I could become a professor. History? Something that I enjoy so it seems less like work? Since that could be fun. But I hear academia is insane and everyone in it is a chucklehead in some form or another."
    Looking up then he ponders, "Could go into sports medicine since I have an edge with that in some ways." Considering all the different ways he knows of how to take apart the human body, being able to help it mend might well seem second nature.
    "Though more I think about it, stripping clearly is the answer."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"There is a lot professors have to deal with. The good news is your classroom, your rules in a lot of ways. Plus most of those who want to analyze actual history are not as much of chuckleheads as the ones who prefer to interpret it into their own versions rather than reality," Natasha pointed out as she weighed that option in her brain.

"Sports medicine? Didn't know you were interested in medicine at all but that could be interesting if it appeals."

But at the end she had to smile and give a nod. "Or you could strip to pay your way through school. Plenty of people do it. Or setup a a page on one of those pay-to-view sites online! That's it! I could take the pictures and help you manage it."

Phobos has posed:
    As Natasha comes up with that 'brilliant' plan, the newspaper finds another use in this day and age which is for it to be crumpled up and /thrown/ across the distance between them, and with a good amount of heft to it. But the aerodynamics of the matter don't entirely cooperate as it partially unfolds and fwupfs onto the couch near the evil Black Widow.
    "You are such a butt." There, judgement passed.
    "Money won't be a problem with my trust fund and all. Still." He then says, "If my dad found out he'd kill me. With just like, a look of condemnation. Death by Lethal Disappointment."
    He pushes a hand through his hair and bites his lower lip, "Besides, if I did take that up as a career I think eventually you'd get growly about it and suddenly we'd lose all our customers through various 'myserious' causes."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The flying paper earns a laugh, especially as it falls short of the target and lands next to her laptop. She picks it up, putting it on the coffee table, then settles back where she was. "Well mysterious causes would be a necessity. Remember number one was there aren't enough bullets. I'd have to get creative." At least she had been honest about it, although likely she wouldn't be /that/ grumpy. Not enough to actually kill people. After all, she trusted him so she wasn't concerned he would actually stray.

"You don't think John would approve? I guess not. Probably not manly enough or something equally archaic. Love your father," she said, not meaning in /that/ way. "But he does have some old fashioned concepts on things."

She looked him over a moment. "You would look good in a fancy jacket tweed jacket with leather at the elbows though. Course, you'd look good in practically anything. So if you wanted to teach, that's an angle. For a while at least unless something else catches your fancy." Not like he didn't have time for multiple careers in his lifetime.

Phobos has posed:
    "Tweed jacket." He says as he looks at her sidelong, as if she just said something rude about his mother. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes he turns fully around on that chair, resting his arms over the back of it and straddling it now, his head tilting to the side as he looks to her.
    "But I don't know, that might be fun. I could go into archaeology, find the Ark of the Covenant." He nods a few times as if serious, those pale hazel eyes lifting upwards.
    "Or could go into super-science, work with Professor Richards? Dr. Richards? The bendy stretchy guy." As if she didn't know who he was talking about.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"You might be able to work for his company. Not sure you'd get to work with him. He tends to do most of his work solo." Since she does know the Fantastic Four personally, even if they aren't go-to-lunch pals. They have worked together in the past.

"Ark of the Covenant." Natasha pursed her lips a little as she tucked a foot up, under the opposite thigh. One of those half-pretzel positions since she hadn't brought up the other in matching fashion. "Your father doesn't have that off in some safehouse or storage facility?" she teases. But then she sobered a little and gave a shrug.

"Whatever you want to do, I'll support you. Simple as that. You could try a few things to see what appeals most. Take some archeology courses and they'll have opportunities to go on digs to see if you like it or hate it."

Phobos has posed:
    With a casual grace that one can only find in the truly felinian or unimpeachably lazy he /rolllllls/ slooowly forward over the back of the chair, hands tightening to grip the frame as he executes a casual forward somersault lifting himself over the back of the chair with deceptive strength, then easing down onto the floor with the smoothness of a snake on a hot desert day sunning itself on a rock. He sprawls and crinkles his nose from lying there on the floor looking at her.
    "And what if I just want to spend all the day eating bonbons while you work and bring home the bacon? Ever think of that? What if I want to..."
    He looks over in the direction of the kitchen, "Eat until I can do nothing but roll around this house like some big beach ball? Support me in that too?" His lips twist as he drops his head back to the floor with a wooden thump, just lying there like some big lump on the ground. A handsome lump, but still.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
She gets to enjoy the view as he shifts his positions. Going from sitting to laying on the ground in that languid motion. Muscles sliding smoothly under golden skin. It was lovely to see. Then at his suggestion, she rolled her eyes.

"You would never want to do just that. If you did, that would mean you couldn't spar anymore. And I know you wouldn't want to give that up, any more than I would." Natasha shook her head a bit. "Now if you just want to stay here and me support you, sure. I'm fine with that personally. But if you do reach a point where you are not a challenge on the mats, then you are out on the streets and have to go back to your father. I suspect that Death by Disappointment might be far worse."

Phobos has posed:
    A laugh shakes his chest and he pillows his head with his hands, looking at her from on the floor. "You jerk." At that moment when she talks about booting him when he ceases to be a challenge.
    Then his eyebrows lift again, "That's a thing. Could open a dojo. Off in Jersey. Could call it... Cobra... Kiyai? Or something." His lips twitch, "We got all the t-shirts, could just scribble in the two extra letters, voila. Free t-shirts. I mean with the surplus we have it's a crime /not/ to do it."
    Though, really, they'd probably get sued.
    "I think. I'll do... what most people do my age when they're pondering graduate school. And take classes until I figure out exactly what I want to do."
    He rolls over onto his side, shifting languidly to lie sidelong and supporting his head with one hand as he watches her casually. "Since whatever it is I'll have to juggle it with staying in shape and training hard enough so you don't kick me out."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Now you are thinking more clearly."

The whole avoiding being booted out by getting sloppy. It didn't even matter if he did gain weight or the like. It was all about the fighting. He got to where he couldn't effectively, he would hate it. She knew that. He knew that. It was simple. That was one of the things they enjoyed a lot of various reasons.

Nevermind being the son of Ares, god of war. Not being able to fight simply would never do.

Natasha shook her head. "No, we would need to come up with something else for the name of the dojo. We'd get sued since this one is part of pop culture." She had googled. It filled in a lot of blanks for her.

The classes until you find your place is probably your best option," Natasha finally agrees. "You did enjoy going to school from what I gathered, right?"

Phobos has posed:
    "Somewhat," Alexander leans out and points the toe of his left foot casually poking her kneecap with it and then sliiiding slowly forward on the floor until he can rest it in her lap. Sprawled and looking entirely too comfy he lifts his head until he's looking backwards back toward the window.
    "It felt like I was in a holding pattern, like how this will feel I'm sure. But who knows? Maybe I'll find inspiration."
    But then it's back to the idea of the dojo as he stops looking behind him and then looks back to her. "How about Team Arachnophobia dojo? Cuz. You know. Spider. And Fear. See, I'm smurt."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"You're going to take a spider codename now? Or nickname?" Since he was not exactly part of the spandex crowd. Despite his abilities.

Natasha took hold of his foot, absently starting to massage gently along the sole with her thumbs, her other fingers curled across the top of the foot. "Brown recluse bite more people than black widows anyway. Could go with that?"

Which was about as uncool of a spider as was possible. Outside those little jumping spiders which were not exactly frightening or dangerous in any way, shape, or form.

"If you weren't happy in school, then maybe teaching in one isn't the way to go either. I'm not sure what to recommend here. At least if you are there, you can see what catches your attention?"

Phobos has posed:
    She can see the intake of breath as he starts to answer her, but for a moment all response is foregone and lost to the instant as he then slooowly exhales and makes a faint contented sound as she starts to dig her fingers into the curve of his foot. His eyes half-lid, closing partially as he makes a small 'mmm' sound then takes another deep breath before he answres.
    "It wasn't I wasn't happy. Sure I was happy, was nice talking to people, meeting people. I think I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe if I can let that sentiment go I can sort of... I don't know, enjoy things more. Teaching could be fun. Maybe... not college, maybe High School? That could be kind of fun and interesting."
    A pause as he eases forward a little, giving her free rein to do as she likes and making it easier for her to do so. "Though teachers' unions are worse than construction unions I'm told. I think bottom line is I can come up with enough positives and negatives for most things."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"So that boils down to you have no idea yet but you've got some options." Because that is all it sums up to. He isn't sure what he wants to do. He has to figure it out, find something that appeals. He was only in his first lifetime. He had plenty of centuries ahead to likely try them all out and figure out what he liked most.

It wasn't like he was wanting for money. He'd have access to that through the trust his father had setup. And likely his father as well directly if it came down to that, unlikely as it was. Plus he was with her so Natasha knew he wouldn't be hurting in that area. She had plenty saved up from her long life as well.

She continued to massage his foot. Not that he had asked but it seemed the thing to do since his foot was right there in her lap. She did pause long enough to shift her position, tucking her other leg up and settling in tailor style now. Then back to the gentle massaging.

Phobos has posed:
    "Plenty of options." He nods thoughtfully and for a moment his eyes distance.
    Then, still like a so demanding feline, he slides closer and plops his other foot into her lap as if requiring equal attentions. For it is his right. Because. Yet his smile is a warm thing, a tinge of color reaching his cheeks as he pillows his head with his hands behind it.
    "Not to sound too cheesy but so long as we're together that's..." He lowers his eyes, then brings them back up to hers, "Well that's what's important to me."
    There's a deepening to that faint flush to his cheeks, but he doesn't allow the moment to live long before he banishes it with a wry, "Now press harder." As he holds up one foot ever so demanding.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
As he adds his second foot to her lap, Natasha continues with the one she already was kneading. Taking her time, moving through all the muscles. It was a great way to relax a person. As long as they weren't ticklish. Thankfully Alexander hadn't kicked her through a wall so she was safe there.

At the admission of as long as they were together, she smiled softly. Pleased to hear it. That little happy butterfly feeling inside.

And then he didn't shut up.

The next comment earned her stopping the rubbing and smacking the bottom of his foot sharply with her palm. "Don't you dare. I was being nice here. Nothing more. I am not your personal servant so check your attitude right there, buddy."

Phobos has posed:
    There's a small laugh as she can feel his body jostle with the chuckle even as he turns his head to the side, but then turns it back as if to sneak another peek at her. Those pale hazel eyes narrow ever so slightly, hooding with a tinge of the mischievious to them.
    Then they seem to smoulder ever so slightly as he draws his lower lip between his teeth and tells her quietly, in that bedroom whisper tone of voice that she's heard before and promises much. Especially when he murmurs to her.
    "I promise I'll make it up to you later?" Even as his eyes drift down a little as if noting the way those loose clothes hang upon her lithe athletic frame, then his eyes meet hers again as he lifts his chin just a little. Perhaps a hint of a challenge. Or an insight into the future.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"That," Natasha says pointedly with a little disdainful sniff. "Was a given. You will make it up to me later."

Despite the silliness, she did catch that look. And she knows they will have time later to explore whatever promise he is making. It could be something as simple as a return foot rub. Something more intimate. Or even just sparring. With them, all were equally welcome and adored.

She put her hands on his other foot, giving it the same attention she had the first. Working her way along with that strong grip, rubbing until she would feel the muscle relax then moving an inch down to continue the motion.