6533/Frequent Flier miles

Frequent Flier miles
Date of Scene:	16 February 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Lady Blackhawk, Captain America

---

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    You know how to tell if you're in nowhere? Shit stops being named after people, this for instance. "Southern North Dakota Airport #2". There isn't really a terminal of course, its an un-insulated metal building with a barn heater and a TV that might just predate the invention of water. I mean hey the Dakotas are great, but this airport?

    That lovely charger lear that SHIELD had hired, well it ate a turbine compressor and hey great it managed to land but now you're stuck here. Nearest town, twenty miles. Nearest rental-car agency, almost a hundred. Nobody is dead, or maimed but this has got to be the -next- worst travel thing ever.

    <<This just in, the National weather service is predicting another six to eight inches of snowfall and windchill of ten below. Stay inside, stay off the roads and close up your barns>> The TV drones, before flickering back to some sort of fuzzy soap opera. This is it, this might just be the next twelve to fourteen hours of your life if you're not careful.

    <<fzzt Tower this is uh, oh hey no air traffic control here huh?>>A woman's name crackles over the speakers, <<Well Southern North Dakota Airport number two, Blackhawk one Actual. Be advised making my approach, North to west.>>And sure enough distantly comes, the sound of a jet engine.

Captain America has posed:
Steve's breath puffs white as he sighs for the umpteenth time since the lear-jet's impromptu landing in the middle of nowhere. A brief jaunt to the West Coast seemed like a great idea until the weather did its glorious work on the turbines. At least he's got the warmth of his bomber jacket overtop a black hooded sweatshirt. The combat boots are lined as well, to his benefit. Cold toes are the pits.

"What's the call, Harley?" he asks the mechanic standing nearby who's busy texting madly on his phone.

"Grounded until we fix the wiring, Captain," he replies with a wince towards the man. "They said there's coffee if you want some, a mix you can stir in with some hot water."

"Better than nothing," replies Steve with a wane smile. "Thanks, Harley. Keep me updated." He goes to walk away from the cracked bay door of the building and pauses, frowning. Is that the sound of...another jet plane?

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Theres winds, icing, this airport has no lighting to speak of really and...it's fine. That jet slips in like it might as well be a spring afternoon, touching down ever so gently before it taxies around towards the fuel pumps. Jet black with a neat yellow pinstripe, and on the tail? Painted in brilliant hi-viz yellow, the Blackhawk's roundel. That PC-24 comes to a halt, and well the door pops open.

    Nearly knee high combat boots, a skirt that's too short even in this day and age. That black leather jacket emblazoned with the brilliant yellow logo over her chest, and a neat black cap? Well gee golly, it'd be pretty damned difficult to confuse her for anybody else. Apparently unconcerned with the obnoxious weather, as she slips around to pay the pump and get the bird refueled.

    This executive jet has no cabin lights on, there are hardpoints under the wings and yeah. You can be pretty damned sure Zinda Blake isn't playing executive pilot to some boy millionare, right? She's just -gotta- have room.

Captain America has posed:
The mechanic pauses in his texting as well, looking at Steve with brows knotted above his large nose. "That sounds like another jet," he says as he walks alongside Steve towards the bay doors. The Captain makes opening the sliding metal door look easy as he cracks it open against the swirl of the winter wind that blasts against the building. He squints out at the jet pulled up and his expression goes nearly blank with surprise.

"In ainm Dé," he mutters in Gaelic before he glances at Harley. "Stay here for a second." Harley obeys after the Captain holds out a hand to accent his point. Ducking his head, Steve steps out into the gusts. He holds up a hand to shield his face against any errant pellet-sleet as he approaches. "Hey! Pilot! You're a Blackhawk!" Part comment, it's also part question given the uplift of his tone. He squints at the woman, thinking to himself that the skirt is...very short for this weather.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Those neat white gloves half shoved into jacket pockets, Zinda leans back to peer around the nose of that plane. "I'm -the- Blackhawk."She corrects, wincing against the cold before a candle of recognition lights a familar face. The shock is plain as day, though it probably shouldn't be. I mean she read he was back, it just didn't process yaknow? The response is immediate, automatic. She's got a hand halfway there before she even realizes it, knocking off a crisp salute.

    "You're Steve Ro..Saints alive I thought you and the cold didn't get along Cap, What in damnation brings you up here of all places?"Stepping foreward to offer a gloved hand, and well that smile? It's like a magic trick, it's downright playing dirty. "I always wanted to meet you, but we never had a recruiting tour at the same time."And well, she fought in the pacific. Thats a big part, right?

Captain America has posed:
Steve pulls up nearly just as short, his steps slowing until he stops just by the nose of the plane. -The- Blackhawk? That means this woman is --

"Yes, Steve Rogers," he manages to reply as he reaches out to return that handshake. He does attempt a smile of his own, crooked and still a bit bomboozled despite his return to proper composure. "You must be Zinda Blake. Heard a lot about you during the war. You were on the opposite side of the world, I don't blame it for our paths not crossing." He puts his hands back in his pockets and his shoulders lift a bit against the wind. "Our plane broke down. Harley said it was something about the turbine. We're stuck here until it gets fixed."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Guilty as charged, hoo-wee small world right?"Theres a peer offered towards the hangar, and a bit of a wince. "No spare parts on board sugar, but I can give you boys a lift no problem. As long as ya'll ain't lookin for Normandy, I should be able to accomodate."Thumbing back towards her own bird. "I'm afraid It won't be too luxurious, I'm on a supply run for the island, but I ain't gonna strand you boys out in the sticks up here."

    She crosses back under to eyeball the fuel pump, before peering back. "Ya'll go talk to yer man, see if he's willing to ditch his bird. I'll get the bird fuel fat again, and we can get the hell out of this god forsaken frozen wasteland? Sound good to you, Captain Rogers?"See, a refined age. People used ranks and stuff.

Captain America has posed:
"I don't think Harley will complain, m'am -- Miss Blake," the Captain amends, again smiling as if he hadn't slipped up. "I'll go make sure he and the ground crew know what's been offered. Someone might elect to stay behind with the jet. I don't blame 'em." With a brisk nod of his head, Steve then turns and marches quickly back to the metal hanger. If he looks like he's hurrying against the cold, it's just the length of his stride.

It doesn't take long for Steve to return -- by himself. He wanders over, arm upheld against to keep the worst of the sheerwind from his face. "Harley's elected to stay, along with the other crewman. They don't want anyone touching the plane while it's here. They said they don't mind waiting around for someone to reach out to them." He shrugs and gives Zinda a one-sided dimpling of a smile. "Couldn't convince them otherwise. You mind giving me a lift back to New York City?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Zinda gets the bird gassed up, before pausing at the ladder to wait for Steve. "New York, yeah not a problem mack. Climb aboard."And well she ain't waitin outside no longer, you seen how short that skirt is? Casually slumping into the captain's chair, before lifting her cap off to exchange it for a headset. "Pull that door shut, and hey you can join me up'ere if ya'll fancy the company."One hand tugging her belts on as the other lifts to start flipping switches, getting the bird warmed back up.

    So just what is she hauling back there? Well there are big crates marked "AIM-9X", cans of fifty cal, crates of food, and beside the door? A thompson and a pair of drum magazines, affixed to the wall because why the hell not? This is Blackhawk Airlines, what the hell were you expecting?"So what in the world you been up to, besides learning how to work a phone again and trying to keep up with the pop culture references?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve follows behind Zinda on the ladder, but not without affixing his gaze firmly off to one side and towards the metal building because -- indeed -- that is a very short skirt. Once she's inside the plane, he climbs up it at speed and makes sure to pull the door firmly shut. Pulling the airlock handle into place, he then ducks into the cabin at the front of the plane.

"Don't mind if I do," says he, in regards to joining her. He settles into the co-pilot's chair with the ease of someone who's done the motion thousands upon thousands of times before and glances over at Zinda. A wry snort at her question. "I've got most of the movie references these days. The TV shows are more difficult. Still catching up on history." A frown out through the plane's front windows. "World hasn't changed much though. Still working with SHIELD to keep the peace. The Avengers too, of course," he's sure to add.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Oh TV is the worst, I can never get caught up. The island doesn't get cable or whatever it's called, so I've been watching it online but we still don't have a cable dropped so that's off the menu when the weather gets back."The engines spool to life, the displays and that -glorious- heat comes back. So does the bluegrass music, but well she's quick to crank that back down to a reasonable volume. "So I just gave up on the TV stuff, lots of good music I missed though."And well they're away, taxiing towards the runway already.

    "I figured you'd be in the thick of it, they don't quite make'em like us anymore. SHIELD tried ringin, but I've been busy with the company. Bunch've rich sacks'eh shit, ain't a pilot's wings in the board room when I ain't there."And a pause as she bring the plane up on short, double checking things. "I'm putting the Blackhawks back together though, already scrounged up a few airframes and built another. I'd accept a contract, if you need a mercenary fighter pilot watchin your back."And throttles up, they're off!

Captain America has posed:
Steve slouches just a touch in his seat as the heat comes back on. Even if he won't complain to a soul (outside of Bucky Barnes), he's relieved to be in an environment that doesn't make his innards twist at the idea of bone-deep cold. He's as comfortable as he can manage as Zinda turns the plane about and further readies it for take-off.

"I heard through the gossip around the place that SHIELD had tried to contact someone, but not that it was you. A shame." He grunts as the forwards thrust kicks in and plasters him back into the comfortable co-pilot seat. No vertigo overtakes him. If anything, he grins a little at the sensation of such a fast take-off. "You want back into the fray though? Seems that hauling goods is lucrative. Not enough danger for you?" he asks, glancing over at Zinda again.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Captain, I tried."Looking well, happy to be in the pilot's seat. Happy to be flying, happy to have her own plane and her own island and actual "fuck you money" as the kids say. However feeling you don't belong, and saying it are two different levels of reality. Now faced with the one man who's experience can compare... "I tried doing interviews, helping with history. I tried restoring planes, I tried racing them, I tried test pilot work. I tried dating, I tried to Miss Blake. Hell I even tried to bring back my father's business, Blake Bourbon? I tried everything I could think of, and yaknow what? I don't think in all my life I was ever really happy, until I was Lady Blackhawk. I don't think, people like me are built for peacetime."

    Gear up, flaps up, throttles back to 70 percent. Climb angle at fifteen degrees, one hand on the yoke sliding that executive jet through choppy air like a biscuit through heavy cream. "Spent too long thinking it'd have been better if I'd died in '45, I had people back then. There was a place for me, even if my skirt was too short."

Captain America has posed:
Steve listens, his eyes resting on one of the many flight instruments on the instrument panel of the cockpit. His wheat-gold brows meet to showcase the melancholy that haunts him from time to time. Leaning his weight on his elbow and his jaw on his fist, he sighs as he watches the ground below them become more and more distant as they climb in altitude.

"Hell of a thing to think about," he replies quietly overtop the sounds of the jet. "But we're around for reasons still, I like to think. Might be because we still have an impact to make in this world. It's changed -- the culture, the music, the shows on TV and not on the radio -- but much of it hasn't. It's getting more complicated." He sighs. "But people still want someone to look out for them. Everyone's got dreams and there are still folks out there who want to see it all fall apart. Peace...it's a dream anyone can work towards." He gives Zinda a small smile. "Even a pilot not built for peacetime."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Steve, I'm a Hawk not a Dove. If you need one, I'll cut you a sweetheart deal alright?"Offering a gloved, oh hey fist bumps are a thing so she does that. "Just, I ain't fightin for no peace. I'm fightin cuz I'm a fighter pilot, and thats what fighter pilots do. Sides, the 'hawks could use the visibility. You realize there hasn't been an ace pilot anywhere in the world since Vietnam, you have any idea how rough that makes recruiting?"

    Oh hey, and well this is Zinda Blake. Obviously she doesnt drink in the cockpit, but she does manage to fish a mason jar out from beneath her seat before flipping it to Steve. A mason jar full of, well moon shine of course. "You get feelin lonely, you get into that and give your old friend Lady Blackhawk a call alright? Lord knows we ain't had a guest over at the Island since like 47', and I wasn't there for it."

Captain America has posed:
The fist-bump is returned as Steve gives her a bemused little smile. "I can imagine it makes recruiting difficult," he agrees with the lady-pilot as he settles back into the co-pilot chair again. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he takes a moment to fire back a text to Harley and then to the Avengers hanger crew about the downed airplane.

Motion in his peripheral makes him look over to see the revelation of the jar of clear liquor. He takes it out of polite manners and sniffs at it, eyebrows rising. "Dunno when I'll find the time, but I'll do my best to make some time for a visit," he replies before sipping at the liquid. Whew. GEEZ. Licking at his lips, Steve blinks. "It's not gin," he says in good humor before offering it back to Zinda.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    And thats enough to bring fourth a snort, and a gasp...followed by proper laughter. "Gin it is not, as my pappy would say it's real honest."Snirking, as she eases the plane into a cruise. Throttles up to eighty as they find their favored altitude and, right out of those angry clouds the plane glides. "Nono, you keep it. It's yours, just yaknow don't tell anyone where you got it. Unless they want some, in which case lemmie know alright?"

    "One of the perks of having an island in international waters, ain't got no god damned revenuers creepin round the back sixty trying to roust the family business. Hell you see they legalized the uh, Pot they call it now yeah? I remember readin how that stuff was supposed to be like devil work, but you know what? I'm kinda fixin to try some, I mean shit I been shot, stabbed, drowned, brainwashed, beaten, frozen, burned and every other god damned terrible thing. The hell is that stuff gonna do to me, right?"The fact that everyone told her not to growing up, may or may not be a major motivation but of course.

Captain America has posed:
Pulling the mason jar back to his lap, Steve takes one last experimental sip and smacks his lips silently. "I'll let you know," he replies very evenly before he screws the lid back onto it. "Can't drink when I'm on-duty. Buck might like this..." he wonders to himself.

Up here, the clouds below are filmy and grey, sucking up all of the light with the snow still caught within them. It's clear and sunny and the Captain leans out to admire the blanketing below them that hides the earth away entirely. "You mean marijuana. It wouldn't do a thing to me, so I haven't tried it." Steve doesn't sound like he's boasting, telling Zinda this; simply informing her that he's got no experience in matters and that it wouldn't matter anyways if he did.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "So thats the, whatever they did to make you -you-? Is that how, I mean you -actually- spent your time in actual ice, not a turn of phrase right? Like actual literal Ice, Thats how you survived all that right?"Theres a pause there as Zinda ponders, letting her gaze wander through the cockpit glass. "And who's Buck, shit that was my cousins name."Theres a wince at that "Married Lou-Anne Peters, who was like a woman built out of spite and maybe sixty rats in a human shaped bag. Figure they deserved each other, but anyway."
    "Flier, seven o'clock low. See him out there, bout a mile?"and yeah ok hey, that is a flying man. Bright garish colors, out for a flight and...down into the clouds he goes. "And gone...god I wish they wore transponders. Always afraid I'm gonna hit one."

Captain America has posed:
Steve leans forwards and catches a glimpse of the flying superhero, whomever it is. He grins, a little perplexed to see the person, and then sits back in his chair again. The jar of moonshine gets tucked to one side on the floor by his seat where it won't get accidentally kicked.

"I think they'd be fine if they bumped off the plane. It'd be the plane with the problem," he quips. "But literal ice, yes. Cold as you think it was. The serum put in me changed my body more than they initially projected. It fends off any reactants in my system, good or not. Can't get high, can't get drunk." The man shrugs in long acceptance of the fact. "'nd Buck's a friend of mine," he adds, not expanding further on this as he glances out the cockpit window again.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Yeah for me it was instant, well just about. I mean I was fightin' a pair of zeroes about thirty miles off the coast of Japan, compasses went wild and the radio made this god awful screech. Boom, just like that. Zeroes just kind've faded like shadows, based on fuel consumption when I landed I'd reckon took about three minutes or so? Hell at first I thought they lost me, it was just a recon flight anyway so I turned and headed home. Saw a few ships flying the meatball, strafed them, then the Japanese Air force shows up. They're telling me to land in Japan, I'm telling them very unladylike things. They keep trying to get in on me, It turned into a proper dogfight."Theres a little shrug there. "Nobody on the boats was hurt, thank god. Raptor came down to Okinawa, talked me down. Thought I had lost my mind, but they gave me a beer and a camel cigarette and I knew we'd won the war."

    "As for your, can't get drunk bit? I accept the challenge."Wink wink. "You like spicey foods, by the by?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve laughs despite himself and shakes his head at Zinda. "You're gonna have to find something brewed not on this planet itself to win that challenge, Miss Blake. Don't get your hopes up." He grins despite himself. "That moonshine isn't going to do the job. Spicy foods?" The Captain shifts in his seat and pulls out his phone to see if Harley's gotten back to him yet -- not yet, the mechanic must still be working.

"Depends on what you call 'spicy'. Why, you have something hanging around here?" The man leans to look around the seat and back towards the cargo area. "Or you're thinking of stopping someplace on the way over? No flying through loops or holes in time, please," he adds in mild jest.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Hah, no. Not unless we head to the Island first anyway. I just got this stuff I brewed back in uh, fourty? Right when we went from North Africa over to the Pacific. It was part of some, sauce or something Stanislaus wanted to make. Anyway we left and I forgot all about it, so I get back and find guess what has been sittin in a copper still getting meaner and meaner. I mean it was mostly peppers'n snake venom, and thats literal mind. Figure it came out around hundred fifty proof back in 40'."Zinda nods sagely "I was gonna sample, but I mean it etched the glass I poured it in and put me into a coughing fit off the fumes alone. Pretty sure it's the surliest thing man ever brewed, and well it'd likely take a superhero to tolerate it."

    There is a term for what Zinda created of course, it's called a "Chemical Weapon". "I've got about ten gallons of the stuff, and I mean I hate to throw out hooch just because it's too strong for me. Besides, it cleans carberators like a magic trick. Figure I'll look around for some titanium cups, if you're brave enough to put that boast to the test."

Captain America has posed:
The Captain gives Zinda a suspicious squint. "I didn't fall off the apple cart last night, Miss Blake. It sounds to me like you want me to drink caustic, if it cleans the grease and grudge off of mechanical parts. It also doesn't sound like it's going to get me drunk. It sounds like it's going to burn my innards."

He eyebrows in the pilot's direction. "I meant more like Asgardian mead when I meant a liquor not of this planet. Have you ever tried that? Woof." And Steve shakes his head slowly. "It goes down like honey and all of the sudden, you're half hanging off the couch like a wet blanket, wondering why you can't feel your fingers and toes." He points towards her. "That's something you should try if you get the chance."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Well maybe if I hang out with you more often, but I do not in fact have a connection for actually otherworldly hooch."She doesn't make an effort to hide the grin though. "Caustic, well sort of. I mean I've had some mean stuff we brewed in the Pacific, I mean it was best when mixed with a little av-gas."And a little shrug. "You know, to take the edge off right?"Zinda blake, most heroic booze hound to ever live ladies and gents.

    "I have seen pictures of course, some of those Agardian folks ain't too bad on the eyes you know? Hell neither are Kryptonians, or hell half these folks running around in spandex and whatever if we're being honest. In fighter parlance, we'd call that a "Target Rich environment" you know. The fact that some of them can hook me up with somone that'll knock my socks off, all the better. "And well a little frown, as she glances sidewards towards Steve somewhat confidentiality. "Hey no jokes, but one old timer to another. You tried this Tinder nonsense or whatever, I mean I ain't tryna get awkward but there was a whole sexual revolution for women while I was out."

Captain America has posed:
Leaning back in his seat, Steve eyebrows at the lady-pilot yet again. "Av-gas," he echoes dubiously. A subtle shake of his head yet. "You want me to try your 'Chemical Weapon', you mix it with something better than av-gas. Like...vodka," he volunteers as a standard liquor. "Or the moonshine." The mason jar is gestured at where it sits upright on the floor, proof of masterful piloting in action.

But then, Zinda gets serious out of the blue. It's enough to make the Captain lose that small smile lingering around his lips and he gives her his total attention, wearing a slight frown. Oh god. Tinder. The severely-polite mask slips on to his face, bland interest yet another defense. Damn the tips of his ears going red at the blunt question.

"I haven't tried Tinder, no," he replies evenly, " - and I believe there was a revolution, yes. I wasn't around for it either." Oh so tactful, the Captain.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Yeah but the costumes these days Cap, keeee-rist. I mean back in the day I had people lose their minds with the skirt, but these days? Can we agree, it's a good change? I mean back then I think the first costume I ever met was "Spy Smasher", and they were dull as dishwater considering kids these days."And a little smile, as she gives Cap a punch on the shoulder. "God Steve I'm not your mother, alright? Jesus we're both soldiers, and for god's sake I flew with the Navy and the Marines. We're in a cockpit, cruising at twenty five thousand feet. You can at least admit you look, what kind of man doesn't? You think I was in a unit with a bunch of monks, that I didn't play wingman?"

    "And as for the hooch, why don't you trust a daughter of Dixie to brew like her daddy taught her? How you think we kept food on the table during prohibition, I was brewing before I was old enough to talk to boys without parental supervision for goodness sake. If I says the booze needs av-gas, the booze needs av-gas. Not like we're talking bath-tub gin here, ain't no antifreeze in my hooch."

Captain America has posed:
"There shouldn't be antifreeze in hooch anyways," agrees Steve in that same easy-going, polite tone of voice. "I shined shoes. Much less exciting than brewing up illegal alcohol." He snorts despite himself and looks out the window again. The scenery hasn't changed much. The cotton-ball carpeting of clouds stretches nearly endlessly to the horizon; it must be a big weather system below.

"You can look at my phone if you want, Miss Blake, there's no Tinder app on it." He even flashes the screen at her to make his point: indeed, no app icon present. "Too busy for the dating scene -- and I look," he says with emphasis despite his cool demeanor. "Just don't have the time." Still no text from Harley. Scowling at the phone, he shoves it back into his pocket again.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Yeah well maybe you should Steve, I mean jesus you're a catch so go find someone before I feel inclined to "Help"."She even did air qoutes, see she's sort of being modern. "I mean I saw Power Girl the other day, I had to shoot a giant robot with a recoiless rifle so we didn't talk much but hey. You can get your star spangled ass back on the market, or I can start giving your number out."Tough love, with Zinda Blake everyone.

    "I don't need to see your phone, I trust you. I don't need proof of how stubborn men are capable of being, or how eager they are to pretending they're an island. You can't do this stag thing, You deserve somone to come home to and some girl out there deserves to have you in her life."and another shoulder punch. "You get out there, or so help me I'm going to drag you out there kicking and screaming. You deserve a sweetheart."

Captain America has posed:
Leaning towards the window of the cockpit nearest to him, Steve attempts to bring himself out of reach of the next shoulder punch. Eyeing Zinda side-long, he remains silent for a long enough period of time to make it known that he's actively considering how to reply to this attempt to help his nonexistant dating life.

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Zinda, and for the compliments, but if you start handing out my number, I'll probably change it. I don't have time in my life right now to entertain that kind of thing." 'That kind of thing' being dating, apparently. "I've got other priorities at this time," he explains evenly.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "And thats how you get your noodle bucket emptied out all over some god forsaken beach, thinking that nonsense. If you don't have time, you make time."Zinda's response is curt, almost sharp. "You got to make time for yourself, in -your- life Steve. You keep up like this, and you know what's going to happen? One day you're going to roll out of bed and ya'll are gonna be tired, not sleepy just tired. You'll go get suited up, you'll get briefed and then it's going to happen. You're going to misremember something, forget something. You're going to say the wrong thing, at the wrong time. Some guy is gonna hear that order, and he won't think for himself. You're Captain America, so he's going to go do exactly what you told him to do. You'll get him killed, and then you're going to feel like shit. You'll feel like shit, because you're a good man. Morning after, you'll be more tired. You'll make another mistake, maybe you get lucky. Then comes the frusteration, right?"

    Zinda's not punching, but well she isn't raising her voice either. Gaze fixed foreward, as one hand slips off the throttles to rub at her kneck. "You'll know you're better than that, you'll blame yourself. Then comes either the depression, or the rage. Take your pick, but thats what'll come. Then you're no good to anyone, you're not avenging nobody and you sure as hell ain't no shield for the people. Your shit gets twisted up, you don't think straight. You start getting emotional about things you shouldnt, irrational. You're smart though, so you'll realize you're not being logical about all this. It'll make you more frusterated, until somone clicks that light off upstairs and something -really- bad happens. You know what that is, that I just described?"

    Not that she gives Steve the time to respond, mind you. "Thats how a case of "Acute combat Stress" unfolds, I've watched it happen to -two- good men right in front of me. You like thinking of yourself as America's weapon against fascism or whatever, well what the hell did they tell you in basic about taking care of your weapon? Now I'm sorry I'm being sort of a bitch about this, but dear lord Steve tell me you've never seen a soldier burn himself out and lose his edge?"

Captain America has posed:
"I've seen burn-out. More than once." Steve isn't looking at Zinda either. He's watching the clouds below begin to thin out to reveal the snow-covered plains below. No mountains to break up the scenery just yet and the weather remains thickly patchy. The pristine view from on-high disappears behind the froth of storms again.

The Captain rubs at one temple as he replies, "Just don't see how romance is supposed to solve that particular problem. I've got a network. I've got friends -- hell, I've got one older than me who's been through //more// than me," he emphasizes. "They understand that I'm still functional without a date." His voice drops to something near to a mumble and he asides resentfully, "Besides...they wouldn't be dating Steve. They'd be looking to date Captain America."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "They understand you're functional without a date, or they don't have any idea how to even have this conversation with you because you're you? See I think they love you, and they gloss over the bad stuff because you're the reliable one."Theres a sigh at that, as Zinda leans back in her seat. "You go pop out your phone, and pick somone. Anyone in your contact list, and we'll give them a call and we can ask them point blank. You can stack the deck, pick anyone there. Which one is going to tell you that you -shouldn't- be dating?"

    "And you think I got it easier? It's hard so lets just throw up our hands and give up? God you are so down on yourself, Captain America is the -least- interesting part of you and by no means the best. You date a girl, and if she gets it then you keep going. If she's there to date Cap, you part ways and keep going. You act like "Lady Blackhawk" doesn't get folks dating her for the wrong reasons."Theres an eyeroll there, finally as she loosens those shoulder straps. "You want me to get sappy, I'll get sappy. Love is important Steve. We make war, so it's doubly so. Otherwise all we do is give out destruction, we have got to balance it. You need that shit so you can get -home-, so you got somone there to patch you up in ways your buddies can't."

Captain America has posed:
Apparently, sappy is enough to put a dent in the mulish wall of logic Steve's put forth so far. He aims a vaguely disgruntled look yet at Zinda, but not for long. Giving a quiet 'hmph', he then goes back to watching for scenery below again. The clouds part and, again, the stretch of white snow for miles upon miles, broken up only by low rolling hills and high mountains in the rarest instances.

"Can't give up if you've never tried," he mutters. "And I'm sorry for your troubles. It's a shame that you've had to deal with men who hare after the title and not after yourself." He doesn't pull out his phone even after it vibrates in his pocket to warn him about a text -- no feeding that idea, of calling one of his compatriots. "Why're you interested in fixing me up with a date anyways, Blake?" The Captain looks at her again. "Think I can't manage it myself?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Oh Steve, thats nothing. There's the whole thing with growing up lesbian in rural Alabama in the 30's, or dressing like a man just so I could take a girl I fancied on a date like a normal person without getting the shit kicked out of me. Oh and the whole Queen Killer shark episode, where I got brainwashed into this nutball's queen for a few months whilst I tried to kill the only people in the world that'd accepted me for who I was. Having people want to hook up with Lady Blackhawk over Zinda, well shit Steve at least it means I ain't alone sometimes, yeah?"And well bombshells are getting thrown around free and easy now, even if Zinda seems awfully casual about the whole affair. "You should have seen me when I realized King Killer Shark, was still alive after I'd come back. Got -another- needle jammed in my neck, that was something to feel sorry about."

    "As for you, Mr.Perfect? I'm interested because I care, because I walk around and sometimes it doesn't even feel like any of these people were born on the same -planet- as I was. How many people do you meet, who can look you in the eye as Steve and not put you on a platform as Cap? You are my countryman, I mean it we came from the same America. So I expect you'd look me in the eye and tell me to get my shit squared away if I needed it."Theres a huff there, as she cynches those straps back down. Almost deflated as she sinks back into her seat. "So talk to me like a brother in arms, cuz let me tell ya mack. I need it. Who the hell -do- you like, just talk. I won't set up any crazy dates, but can we at least talk about dames like civilized soldiers?"

Captain America has posed:
The revelations put forth to him in what must be unquestioning trust are enough to drag Steve's attention fully back to the pilot slouched in her chair. He listens, somewhat startled by the subtle widening of his eyes. He hadn't known about the Queen Killer Shark episode, but does make a mental note to hunt into SHIELD's archival files for the incident because, by the description of it by Zinda, it must have been a fiasco. Concerning? Absolutely.

"Well..." and the Captain rubs at the back of his neck, still parsing out what Zinda just shared. "We can...talk about dames," he allows. "I...you first."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Oh sheesh, uhh ok. Batgirl maybe, I mean the whole "no killing" thing is silly. Still She's graceful, and Gotham is a rough ass town."Theres a rub of the neck there, as Zinda sits upright. "Super girl of course, but I think it'd get awkward. You know, I mean I'm not super strong or something. That just seems like a recipe for accidental injury, and then you know the whole flying thing is complicated. I mean I don't know why it matters, but I kinda feel like it matters. I mean does she -get- what flight is, to humans I guess?"

    "I haven't heard so much as a rumor that either are into women, so I'm probably barking up the wrong tree but hey a girl can look right?"Theres a reach across the isle, and another punch."Alright choir boy, give me some idea who I need to start lookin out for on your behalf. Spill the beans."

Captain America has posed:
The Captain echoes flatly, "Choir boy." That's enough to make Steve scoff again and shake his head as he turns a glower away towards the window. He replies at his reflection rather than directly at the lady-pilot. "You don't need to look out for anyone in particular. But -- BUT -- " And he holds up a hand to forestall any guff he might get for being momentarily superficial in his response.

"She's gotta have a good heart. Patience. I'm gone a lot, so not too much worrying. Faith that I'll come back from missions. Hell, if she can handle weaponry, all the better. The shield isn't going away anytime soon. Independent. Funny." Steve smiles despite himself as he stretches out one leg as far as can be managed before him. "A sense of humor's never a bad idea. Nice gams. Nice...physique." He's trying, ignore the pinking at his ears.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "See, there you go. Ain't no shame in being frank about it, even if it takes awhile. No promises, but I'm happy to have the excuse to -look-."Theres a smirk there, and a wink. "And if you see a pretty woman you fancy, by all means don't wait on my account. God knows you don't need much help."

    "Oh and hey, before we got all heavy there. I was serious before, about lending you a hand if you need it. Hell give you run of the island for a few days if you need some time off, be nice knowing there's somone else out there who knows where it is."And a beat, as she punches buttons at the console. Scrolling through charts, before nodding to herself. "Just keep it out of SHIELD yeah? It's important we stay independent, I mean we're Mercenaries so contracts are lovely but they don't need to know my home address right? I trust some people, but I don't trust alphabets you know?"

Captain America has posed:
"Duly noted..." Steve replies quietly as to not delaying if he does find someone who sparks his fancy. He glances over at Zinda again as she offers the invitation to the island once more, albeit with understandable precautions.

"I get it. I've got no reason to share the information with SHIELD, not without some very serious need. Besides, if you want to get into contracts with SHIELD, they'll get your information without my help. Still, not about to aid things along in that matter. You've been gracious. I've got no reason to make you doubt my gratitude about all this." The blond soldier gestures to the plane around them. "For the lift and for the homebrew. I'll enjoy it as I can."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "See that's spooky to me, I mean we never even took OSS contracts back in the war on account of how snoopy they were. Ain't like we got much to hide, these days especially but I dunno. I grew up worried the revenuers were going to shoot my dad, or the IRS."Theres a pause there as Zinda ponder "Or the Sheriff, State Police or the Mob. Point is, I like a little distance there. Not always possible, I know but it does give me the willies."

    "And it's nothing Steve, hell I got pie if you want some. The feller I was gonna give it to on account of how kind he was with settin me up with Sidewinder -Xs, well diabetic and so yeah. I never brought it up, but I was sort've over Pecan pie when I was about eight years old yaknow?"And a little shrug, because well. Alabama.

Captain America has posed:
Steve seems to perk up at the idea of food. "Never say no to pie. Can't hurt to have some. It doesn't stick on me anyways." Still all absurdly-graceful muscle under that jacket and jeans despite being able to take anyone on in a pie-eating contest. Time to challenge Thor, clearly.

"I understand the need for privacy well enough, believe me. SHIELD's got a dossier on me with things I've probably forgotten over the years." Or rather, never realized that he had shared or that they had access to, given the man's got eidetic memory as is. "Not gonna spill about the island if I find -- whenever I visit." The Captain makes a point to amend his thought on the off-chance that he'll get more razzing over his sense of time management.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Theres a thumb over the shoulder "No plates but there should be a old army mess kit in the black bag behind the bulkhead, Pie's in a foam cooler behind that, left side I think?"Incidentally, ya know what -isn't- in SHIELD's file on Zinda Blake? The woman doesn't make a pie, there are few words you can use to describe her baking skills. Life affirming pie, like no joke it's actually -amazing-. The black bag, with it's mess kit is perhaps interestingly enough, also where she keeps more of her "social tools". Cut down Ithaca, fragmentation grenades, typical stuff.

    "I trust you, you ain't what I'm worried about. I just don't want us to turn into some, creepy cut out for US foreign policy. Sometimes corporations get a little too much say, I mean hell the Bananna wars?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve makes his way over to rustle about for the foam cooler in question. Indeed, a pecan pie inside that looks and smells worthy of a court of royals. After scrounging up a metal spoon as well, the Captain takes up his place in the co-pilot seat once more, now having an entire tin to himself -- unless Zinda asks for some. If this be the case, he'll politely find another spoon and hand off the tin.

"I have the suspicion that you'll keep your nose clean. SHIELD isn't perfect, but it's better than most institutions around the country. Don't remember much about the Banana Wars, however. Tell me about that." Again, the man plays the part of ear as the explanation comes his way, full of those little blunt addendums and asides that make a Zinda-tale so much its own thing.

The flight isn't bumpy at all and by the time the two soldiers-out-of-time touch down in New York City, there's an empty tin and a sincere handshake of gratitude along with a promise to touch base again sometime soon.