3985/Rising Tide: Red Solo Cup

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Rising Tide: Red Solo Cup
Date of Scene: 01 March 2018
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: May supervises Skye's self-medicating. Girl has good taste in liquor.
Cast of Characters: Quake, Melinda May
Tinyplot: Rising Tide


Quake has posed:
Skye was.. subdued until they made it to the car. Well, until they made it to the car starting and heading back from the meeting with Red Robin. It wasn't like any of this was unexpected, but given this was her first time at this particular rodeo, Skye hadn't known what to expected. Now that she wasn't sleep deprived, and now that she was starting to deal with the fallout fromm what she'd done.. she was feeling deeply lousy about things. Tim's two-year old was the kick in the gut that Skye couldn't ignore.

"I need us to stop at a liquor store." Or, you know, anywhere alcohol could be bought. Lots of alcohol. Like roll me into bed and laugh at my hangover tomorrow amounts of alcohol. Hell, roll me into bed and talk to me in a few days amounts of alcohol.

Melinda May has posed:
"No." May is her usual verbose self. Yippy fucking skippy. Of course, as they're currently on the expressway that leads back to Manhattan from Gotham, there's little opportunity to stop at the moment. "You don't need to stop at a liquor store."

She is very much aware of why Skye has made this demand. And she's fully expecting the younger agent to not respond well to the refusal. But there's no need. Apparently, both Tony and Clint made good on her demand that they replace the bourbon they consumed, and now she has two unopened bottles in addition to the one they seriously dented.

Quake has posed:
Nope. Not taking it well. Not well at all. Full on scowl in three.. two... one..

"You're not my mother, you know." It's a small measure of self-retraint that Skye employs in NOT adding 'as much as you act like it' - she's not dumb. She's just hurting and anggry right now. Not a great combo. And she's none of those things at May, which is the only saving grace she can employ at the moment.

"Look, I want to buy something to drown my sorrows in so I can wake up and pretend all this is better than it's going to be. Just leave me off somewhere if you don't want to be part of it."

Her scowl remains as she bites out, "You know, I have a copy of those Index Files."

Melinda May has posed:
"And I'm saying no. I have two unopened bottles of bourbon. That needs to change." May doesn't elaborate further, mostly because she knows that Skye is more than smart enough to figure out what was just said. "Also, I flatly refuse to let you try to get drunk on those disgusting microbrew things you and Clint insist on drinking."

She actually glances over for a split second at the mention of the Index files. "That's a very dangerous thing to have."

Quake has posed:
Skye's lips twitch over a laugh she doesn't want to give, but fails to avoid entirely, leaving her grinning somewhat but trying very hard not to. "We don't drink those things because we like them," she protests. Well, she's not sure she likes them beyond the fact that they've now part and parcel of the ritual that is Clint and Skye. Clint likes them. That she knows. "He brought them over the night we first started dating. It kinda was a personal joke that got out of hand."

Out of hand, she says, as though it's not their regular drink 'of choice'. Well, if not of choice, at least of date night. Or any excuse that might be date night. It really was kind of a backhanded joke at one another and how they had stumbled into finding each other. The alcoholic representation of Clint and Skye.

"Fine, you have bourbon. I drink bourbon." She's not even sure if that's a lie. Right now she'll drink anything she can get her hands on if it dulls her senses.

Shrugging, "I know a lot of dangerous things, May. I'm just saying, I Have a copy." Leaving it out there. Dangling. Things unsaid.

Melinda May has posed:
Oh, May has totally picked up on the Things Unsaid. And she nods to indicate it. "I will need to borrow said copy, then." Again, things are left unsaid, but considering where they've just been and what was just discussed, it's easy to infer.

And then, possibly changing the subject right back again though it might possibly be unclear, she says seemingly idly, "You should probably call Clint."

Quake has posed:
There's a reason this portion of the discussion is being held before the self-medicating portion of the evening. Skye needs her brain in gear for it.

"Not mine. I'm not giving that one up." She considers, her lips twisting up as she does so. "You know, they didn't release all the ones they had, right?"

Of course May should know.

Melinda May has posed:
Nodding slowly, May replies. "I kind of figured as much. If you can perhaps find a way to share a copy of your list with Robin back there, that'd probably go a long way." She didn't get to see every last entry that was leaked, but she did see a couple, and they were ... damning. She was honestly surprised that her own file wasn't in there somewhere. Not that she's anything beyond bog standard human, but she's worked for SHIELD long enough that she might be on some index or other just because.

Traffic is, well, the usual, but they're making pretty good time and will be crossing over into Manhattan proper soonish.

Quake has posed:
Skye nods slowly. "Pretty sure Fury knows I have a copy. We didn't discuss it." She and he didn't discuss a lot of things they both knew the other knew. It was kind of the thing between them. Stuff she couldn't officially know, but did, with just enough rope to hang herself. The measure of trust Fury had put in her all along. And her acknowledgement thhat she wouldn't put him in a position where he had to step in because she'd crossed official lines.

Skye was pretty sure May knew a lot of that. Or had guessed it was going on.

"Sure. I can clean up a copy. And uh, yeah, we can make that happen."

Melinda May has posed:
May is QUITE familiar with Fury's style of letting agents sit on intel they shouldn't have to test their trustworthiness, loyalty, and plain old intestinal fortitude. She's been the bearer of similar intel in the past. It is NOT fun. But it's guaranteed to prove which agents can hack it and which can't.

Skye just seems to have found the fast track into that sort of trust-testing .

"Good. I'll help you arrange to meet with one of the Bat's representatives. Probably next week sometime." Enough time for Skye to drown her unhappiness for a while and then at least start to pull herself back together.

The car makes it into Manhattan. "Were you going to call Clint or not?"

Quake has posed:
"Good," Skye echoes May's word. "That'll give me time to pull mine from the list." And May's. She'll be pulling May's, too. Though now she has to consider what does she say about that. If anything.

"No," the young woman shakes her head. "I don't want him to feel like he has to stop me or make it all better." Or be thinking that this is what Skye just signed herself up for on a more permanent basis. Or any of the other thoughts he might have. "Not right away, okay?" The 'please' was implied.

Melinda May has posed:
May clearly disagrees, but she relents. "Okay. Then when we stop, we're not leaving again. At least not tonight." So, since Skye has no plans to make any phone calls, May does -- using the car's bluetooth of course. But clearly, she's not calling Clint when the person answers in Cantonese instead of English. After a quick conversation, May hangs up again and they leave the larger roads and head into a quiet neighborhood of well-maintained brownstones.

Quake has posed:
It's that 'At least not tonight' that has Skye frowning. She's more than willing to have a few drinks before going home and pouring herself into bed, but she's not willing to just not show up, or not tell Clint where she is.. it was really just the minor reprieve she wanted. This, though? A whole other ballpark of thought.

"I can't just not go home," she says quietly. "He'd flip. And I wouldn't blame him." Which, of course, means not telling him is no longer on the table unless May has some other solution. Which Skye isn't asking for. Sighing, she mutters, "Fine. We call him." Correcting herself to, "I call him." Because if there was anything she'd learned from the mission, it was that /not/ telling him was a bad choice. "I just wanted a bit of time before I.. you know what? Doesn't matter. We call him."

Melinda May has posed:
"You'll get that time. You don't have to call him right now. Dinner first. Then bourbon. Then you can call him, or I will." But she'll only contact Clint herself is Skye is in no place physically or emotionally to do so. Because.

They drive into the neighborhood proper and somehow finds a parking space along the surprisingly quiet for NYC street. And yes, May can parallel park as easily as she brethes. "Let's go."

Quake has posed:
Skye's lips twist over a wry grin. "My man. My job to call him." Only she adds, to clarify, "Unless I'm too far gone to. In which case, yeah, call him." She's not about to leave him worrying all evening. Even if she doesn't want him to be worrying over her being upset over the job. Then again, what else had he done for her this entire mission but be there for her. He'd listened to all her worries and fears and hopes and successes and been a rock for her.

"Actually, he can come for dinner if you want. I mean, it was stupid of me to be worried. Unless you have things we need to talk about first."

And again she had to consider the fact of May's file. But if Clint was coming over, there wouldn't be a chance to talk about that later without him overhearing. And while she trusted him with her life, she couldn't trust May's secrets to anyone without her permission.

"Uh.. May? Before we do anything, you should know. There's a file on you in what I have. I wasn't going to include it in what I gave Robin."

The young woman sits quietly, letting May do with that as she will.

Melinda May has posed:
May doesn't get out of the car like she'd been about to. She looks at Skye for a long moment while the car's engine gently ticks its way into rest. "Thank you." She doesn't specify whether she's thanking the younger agent for telling her about the file or saying she's going to not share it with Robin. Maybe it's both.

She lets Skye sit for a couple of minutes longer and waits for a car to pass by before finally saying, "Come on. The food will be here in about half an hour."

Quake has posed:
Skye's next nod is much more concise and considered. Much more in control. Less of the hurt and lost she's been feeling, even if she still intends on allowing herself to dwell on those things with a bourbon in hand, hoping that letting those things live for a time will speak themselves and leave her to her peace.

There aren't any words necessary to frame what has passed between herself and May. The why of the thank-you not as important as knowing that isn't a secret allowed to fester and grow questions. There are so many things Skye knows, or has access to. To be allowed to breathe one of them somewhat freely was a relief.

"Thanks," she offers in return. For the food. The companionship. The allowing her this. So many things there are that Skye is thankful for at the moment. "You know, you were a kickass Supervising Agent. I know you thought I wasn't paying attention to half that shit, but I did."

She lets herself out of the car and starts the walk up to what she presumes is May's home.

Melinda May has posed:
Locking the car behind them, May goes to unlock the door and let Skye in. The house would seem like any other safehouse, but it clearly isn't. There are little touches here and there that make it clearly a more lived-in place. Like that scary-huge potted ficus tree in the front parlour.

She leads the way to the kitchen -- something she didn't do for Clint though likely because he'd already started his liquor party -- and opens a cupboard to reveal the assortment of cups, glasses, and tumblers inside. Clearly, she's letting Skye chose a beverage container for herself.

She actually pulls a small step stool out of the kitchen's pantry and uses it to open the small cupboard over the fridge which appears to be where the booze hides. She pulls down three very different bottles and sets them on the counter. The first, that looks like a regular wine bottle, is nearly empty. The second is a chunky, short-necked thing with the black and yellow seal still in place3 over the cap. The third is... noteworthy. The bottle is a faceted sphere with the neck and cap topped off by what looks like a small pewter figurine of a horse and rider at full gallop.

Quake has posed:
Skye notes the personal touches to the place, guessing that she's being afforded a privledge few are given. In the kitchen, she peers over the assortment of glasses and picks something short and squat. Serviceable.

When shown the bottles, Skye shrugs at them, her eyes drawn to the one with the black and yellow seal. Not being a connaiseur of the stuff, she suspects the one adorned with the pewter figurine is the most expensive, and is reluctant to drown her sorrows in such a thing, choosing, instead, to wallow in the one with short neck and unbroken seal.

"That'll do," she gives with a grin. "Looks like something no-nonsense and willing to speak to your misgivings in a stern voice."

Melinda May has posed:
May nods to Skye as she picks the bottle Stark sent, not giving any clue as to which one came from where. "I guess you'll find out." She reaches to get a short tumbler of her own from the cupboard, adds a few ice cubes from the freezer, and then pours from the already open bottle, only giving herself about a fourth of the cup's worth of alcohol. Someone has to stay in control of their faculties and the situation, after all.

Quake has posed:
Skye finds a seat at the table and sets her tumbler in front of herself. "Hit me." her fingers wrap about the tumbler, two-handed. "You know, Fury didn't pull any punches. He said it was going to be bad after. Said you do what you have to; you come home; you have a few stiff drinks."

Fine he'd said 'self-medicate' but the translation is roughly the same when you look at it. And he'd poured her first mission glass.

"I guess you can't really prepare someone for this, can you? I mean it's kind of like the first time you shoot someone. You don't know until you do it what it's going to feel like."

Melinda May has posed:
"No, you can't." She breaks the seal on the short-necked bottle and opens it, then pours the same quarter-glass for Skye that she poured for herself, and doesn't offer any ice. If the kid wants ask, she'll ask for some after the first snoot-ful of the bourbon. "Doesn't get any easier, either." First time you shoot someone, fiftieth time, they're all equally bad. But she doesn't want to cause the kid to completely spiral into depression, so she doesn't elaborate THAT much.

Holding up her tumbler, she offers a toast. "Some days are just going to suck. To learning to cope."

Quake has posed:
Skye's glass remains on the table for a moment, her fingers spinning her tumbler on the table before lifting it. "Shooting the second guy wasn't so hard," she mutters with a half-grin. Clint had been the kicker. Perhaps that was how the other had been easier for her. She'd already faced that demon fair and square and won.

She lifts her tumbler in toast - no ice needed. "Our job sucks," she says, that half grin turning into something of a grimace. "Still wouldn't trade it for the world." Which might be saying a lot considering Fury still hadn't accounted for her childhood and SHIELD's hand in it. "Not like I should give a shit. But I do."

A large swallow of the liquid is taken, the young woman blinking back eyes watering and a cough, all without complaint. At least about the liquour. About the job? She has complains. "Did you know he did it to me again? Got me all pissed off and then threw a promotion at me? Didn't say a word about my file. Just tapped his......."

Skye's voice trails off as it hits her what that was. What she'd missed because she was just too damned pissed to pay attention to what she was being told. "Fuck me. Not the time, Agent Johnson. Too many ears. Well, damn him. Guess I'll be saying hello again soon."

Melinda May has posed:
May takes a very small sip herself. That and the ice are probably why she makes it look like she's drinking water. "Wouldn't, can't. Sometimes they're the same thing." She watches the kid swig the liquor and withstand the effects admirably, and then nods. "I'm not at all surprised. That's rather typical for Fury. His secrets have secrets." She gives Skye a significant look, as if trying to silently convey that she doesn't even trust her own home to be entirely free of unwanted ears.

"You should definitely go say hello to him again at some point."

Quake has posed:
It isn't a far hop, skip, or jump for Skye to follow that look. It isn't like she and Clint didn't have similar discussions about her suite at the Trisk. Hell, she'd gone looking through the comp systems and security while she cleaned up SHIELD's systems, looking to shut down anything she didn't want in her rooms. It was also how and when she tossed that bloody birdsong hello morning shit that she couldn't stand. Morning person, Skye was not.

Her own drink is enjoyed in large swallows. Possibly to make it more palatable, or possibly because if she stops to think about anything she might get caught in the reality of it. She wanted to purge the things she could, which involved some dwelling and wallowing, but she didn't want to relive them or revisit them on any large scale. Some of what had happened because of what Rising Tide had done - what you did the nasty voice in her head spoke to her - was the reason for some pretty horrific outcomes. And telling herself that the greater good really did win out in this one didn't make up for what had happened. It just didn't seem possible that the capture of one man balanced out what she'd seen and heard about of the loss of the data and communications networks.

In short, as much as she'd told James Rhodes to go to hell and shove his opinions up his judgey ass, she agreed with him. Or at least part of her did. Which had her saluting May once again, and taking a third, large, swallow.

"Yeah. Think he's pencilled me in somewhere. Still on leave, though. Indefinitely. Which I guess is their way of saying until we think people forget what you did."

Melinda May has posed:
"Or maybe is so you time to do exactly what you're doing right now." Maybe not the drinking, but the dropping the 'strong and stoic' act and being just plain old human.

"Because I can tell you right now that some things will never be forgotten by SHIELD." Like the stupid Cavalry thing. She WISHES that would go away, but it's been literal years now and it still hasn't.