7268/Perfect Resources

Perfect Resources
Date of Scene:	18 April 2019
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	Tony assists Natasha remotely while having dinner with Steve. (This log coincides with Log #7228)
Cast of Characters:	Iron Man, Captain America

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Iron Man has posed:
"Right now? I thought this would be in an hour," Tony suddenly says to 'nobody,' lifting a hand to tap the side of his glasses. The holograms appear in the edges of the his glasses as he pauses with the menu, looking at the information flickering in his vision instead of the various choices of delicious food.

Tony's treat, to go grab something to eat, has led the two Avenger leaders to a somewhat quiet meal at Genghis Connie's. They are in a booth, and shielded from most of the people coming in and out. Tony's clearly recognizable at even a glance, but set with his back to the door, it's as subtle as he actually gets.

Unapologetically, Tony seems to focus on the information, but he's ever the multitasker. "Know what you want?" he asks, probably at Steve.

Captain America has posed:
The bemused look given to Tony doesn't cease. Upon hearing the sudden shift in attention and seeing the flicker-flash of technology obscuring part of reality before the genius-inventor, the Captain paused too in looking through the menu's myriad choices. With a wry little smile, he glances down at the ordered lines in red ink, their pricing tucked to the far right margins of the cream-colored paper.

"Figure I'd do the usual. Number 27 with pork fried rice instead of white rice, two orders of eggrolls, and a platter of crab rangoon. You want the barbecued pork again?" Steve reaches for his tall glass of water, condensation dripping down the sides, and sips from it, eyeing Tony and his spectacularly-advanced glasses. Memories of 'Rock-em-Sock-em' robot banter briefly echo through his mind. It makes his lips twitch.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony flashes a thumbs up at Steve's question; yes he wants the pork again. There's a pause, then Tony's answering his comm verbally: "Yeah, just run the scanner over it for me."

The waiter comes by, tentative, and looks hopefully from one of the men to the other. "Do you have a pen?" Tony asks the waiter abruptly, making a pen-click motion with his fingers in the air. The waiter stares for a long beat, then immediately gives over a pen, with a sort of wide-eyed expression. It's a hero-worship reaction. Tony doesn't seem to be aware of it, and takes the pen, drawing over his white paper napkin, and taps the tip a few times, before drawing some lines quickly. The napkin is creasing, so he presses it down with the heel of his hand and draws a few more angles, and makes some quick notations.

"It always falls to me to save the day," Tony observes: possibly to Steve or the person on his communicator. Or both.

Captain America has posed:
A small sigh from the man's table-mate. He reaches to the front pocket of his button-down shirt, a casual thing in a matte medium blue, and plucks his own pen from it. Yes, it came from the Triskelion and does not belong to Steve, which makes the Captain a pen thief -- shame!

"Here, if you want it," he says to the waiter with a small smile as he offers the simple ballpoint pen. He then gives the order along with the addendum of an additional cuplet of hot mustard, certain to clear the sinuses if not cause coughing in larger quantities. The sound of the pen working on the napkin is an odd muted quick thing.

"You want anything else, Tony?" Number 27 is a lot of food as is, mostly guaranteed to disappear into the near-bottomless stomach belonging to the super-soldier waiting patiently for an answer.

Iron Man has posed:
"No, the pork's fine; we're defusing a bomb," Tony says to Steve, willing to 'share' the fun little puzzle. He moves the napkin out to where Steve can observe as well. "There's whole pile of unnecessary junctions in the wiring, to induce extra anxiety. I can't see another reason for it. Here, here and here." Tony shares the napkin. Not that it will probably make any sense without more context.

"...But they're all dummy: the power's all wrong. So you can ignore anything coming out of that dampened side with the series that runs along the casing," Tony chatters. "So anyway. Count from where that zip-tie holds the center, outwards to number six. Cut." He folds his menu and hands it off, while still describing directions. There's a bored confidence to it, as if he'd solved the puzzle, and now it's less interesting.

"Actually, to drink, I'll have..." Tony flips around to the alcoholic drinks. "An Orange Dragon. Sure."

Captain America has posed:
The Captain leans over to properly observe the napkin, his brows meeting. The internal components of bombs aren't his forte, but he's learning if only through osmosis of the definitions and information flowing from Tony. He looks away from the sketch of the box and its wiring to browse the beer list at a glance and then hands his menu off to the waiter, adding,

"The oatmeal stout you have on tap, please. Thanks," and he gives the waiter a grateful smile. Then, he leans back over again to see the drawing.

Once he's sure the waiter's out of immediate range of hearing, he asks, "Tony, who're you talking to?" The question is accompanied by a quirk of curious brows.

Iron Man has posed:
"If I tell you, it may mean she has to kill you," Tony 'warns' playfully, which should be all the clue Steve could possibly need. It's obviously Black Widow.

"Hold on, that's the third one." Tony suddenly warns, pausing. "Didn't I say fourth? Well. If I didn't, I meant fourth, assuming those two wires stuck together are two things," he says, with a roll of his eyes, as if Steve would entirely agree with it.

The waiter returns in record time, but when he reaches the table, he accidentally tilts the tray, and the beer goes crashing, by accident, to the edge of table and then to the floor with a loud noise.

"/Language/," Tony teases into his earpiece. "Steve's with me. ....Some beer fell overboard," he clarifies, as if answering a question. He uses the napkin to pat at a spill near his hand while the waiter freaks out about the mistake.

Captain America has posed:
A silent 'ah' from Steve at the revelation of just who is on the other side of the call and he can't help the quiet laugh. A flick of his brows is silently-amused consternation. Natasha, calling Tony? This must be... His expression actually goes transparently surprised.

He got the memo from Director May. If this is what he hazards it to be...

A quick slide inwards along the booth seat saves Steve's tan slacks from all but the splash of the dark beer onto the cuffs of his pants. He gathers up his own napkin and gets to wiping at the section of lined seat he recently vacated.

"It's alright," he reassures the waiter, "It happens." Stooping, he reaches under the table for the shatter-proof pint glass and hands it to the flustered waiter. Tony gets a mildly resigned look across the table as the Captain wipes off his hand. It's a bit sticky and he swipes another napkin along the outside of his sweating water glass for a better removal of the dark beer.

Iron Man has posed:
If he wasn't distracted with his bomb task, Tony might have cared more about the spilled alcohol, but there's only so many things he can do at once. "Hey, it might have a remote sensor in there. I think I see one. But yeah, two more cuts should take care of the timer, and you're golden," Tony describes into the comm. "From clockwise, two and twelve. I've got a drink to start and finish," Tony bids by way of being 'done', and taps the side of his glasses, before removing them fully and putting them into an inside pocket of his coat.

There's zero apology, just a sudden and bright smile to Steve. "Right... Where were we?" he asks, drawing his Orange Dragon towards himself and out of a sticky patch, taking a taste of his tasty rum drink.

Captain America has posed:
The waiter's disappeared again to try and deliver a second beer to the table, like as not this time being as careful as a cat on a hot tin roof to not spill. The process requires first returning with a towel to mop up the excess spill.

Steve gives the waiter another small smile, imparting that no one's offended or inclined to press complain upon the restaurant's manager. Once the waiter's disappeared again and Tony's glasses are folded away, he glances back to the genius-inventor. Tony gets a grin and a laugh followed by a shake of the Captain's head, chin slightly tucked.

"Tony, you know Director May's gonna come after your hide for interfering. You know what that was? Yearly evaluation for the agents. Memo went out this week. Did my own not too long ago."

Iron Man has posed:
Tony lifts his brows a little bit. Doesn't appear that he knew, or cared. "Was it? Huh. Well, I think she should get bonus points for using the perfect resources available to her," Tony says, with zero humility at the fact that he just called himself a perfect resource. He relaxes back into the booth some, one arm lifted to drape against the back of the seat.

"Oh, so you're done? Then you're not going to need me too?" Tony teases with a wink over the top of his drink. "Just as well, these bombs aren't difficult enough to be interesting past the first one or two."

Captain America has posed:
"No, Tony, not gonna need you," replies Steve, his tone dry. His smile hasn't faded, however. "Unless Director May wants another run-through, the numbers are in and crunched. Accidentally busted a hole through the wall into the men's locker room though, so if you end up down there, just be ready for some drafts if you choose to use that locker room." He means the one tucked off the main athletics hallway, the path to many of the training and testing rooms.

"Other'n that, no, no bomb testing. Shooting exam, yes, and a test about catching someone in a lie." A little shake of his head at the last bit. "Ever played two truths and a lie with Director May? It's an experience."

Iron Man has posed:
"The Triskelion locker room isn't a place I frequent," Tony says, amused at the idea. "I'm not sure I actually know where it /is/," he comments offhandedly, with a pause to squint at the air. It doesn't last, and he doesn't linger on it, because he really doesn't care.

"Two truths and a lie? Hm. How does that work, with her? I can imagine it would be," Tony chuckles. "I'm good at poker-face. I suspect she might be better. She's no doubt more sober; the sober ones usually seem to do well. But I'd argue that I have more fun."

Captain America has posed:
The beer arrives and is set upon the table successfully. The waiter appears deeply relieved for this and scurries off before Steve can so much as finish his thanks. He glances back at Tony and laughs again as he takes up the pint, sipping at the creamy-brown foam floating atop it.

"I might pay to see you go up against Director May in a bout of two truths and a lie, Tony. I really might. Agents might make popcorn and start making wagers. Who gives up first. Clint would have a betting pool going in a shake of a lamb's tail." The Captain snorts, envisioning the eat-shit grin on the agent's face.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony responds to a slight vibration from a small handheld phone-like device, pulling it to look. He quirks his brows. "SHIELD is calling. How about that." Tony doesn't answer it, he slips it back away, with a vague, self-satisfied little smirk. "I'll get my praises and accolades later," he assures Steve. Accolades. Right.

"Well, the thing is, I don't have to pass any agent tests. A benefit to not being an agent," Tony laughs, arching his brows. "I rather enjoy my consultant-sized freedom."

Captain America has posed:
Another soft laugh from the back of Steve's throat and he drops his face upon hearing just who's buzzing the head of Stark Industries. A shake of his head before he looks up again, still dimpling to one side of his mouth.

"There's a lotta freedom in consulting, I'll grant you that, but not from Director May's accolades." Since that's what they're calling it, apparently. The waiter, assisted by another staff member, then arrives with the platters of food. It's delicious, hot from the kitchen, and the savory combination of spices and oils sets Steve's mouth to watering. There's just enough room on the table for the spread of it all and after the waiters depart, the Captain unfolds a new napkin on his lap.

"Eat up. You'll be taking home half the leftovers," he informs Tony in good-natured and forward manner. Steve, at least, finds having the takeout a blessing in his fridge between busy days. He grins at Tony as he takes up a pair of chopsticks and fishes an eggroll from the pile as well as one of the hot mustards. Time to enjoy some good food with good company!

Iron Man has posed:
((For those who are interested, Black Widow's side of the bomb diffusing: https://www.unitedheroesmush.com/scene/scene.php?id=7228 ))