8430/So, You Found Hank!

So, You Found Hank!
Date of Scene:	21 July 2019
Location:	A rooftop in Brooklyn, NYC
Synopsis:	Felicia gets to enjoy hearing of Bucky's encounter with the fabulous Hank and ends up not being taught how to knife-fight after all.
Cast of Characters:	Winter Soldier, Black Cat

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Winter Soldier has posed:
Another night. Another rooftop. This one has no mural, just a high tide line of random tags and formless art. As if some strange, chaotic sea had subsided from the heights of Brooklyn. But this one's high up enough that it has a dazzling view of Manhattan and the bridge.

He's sitting on a box again, looking out at it. Impossibly bright and gleaming, a dream of a city. He doesn't have a lantern, this time, but a glowstick, yellow-green like a firefly, propped up in a little plastic holder. Meant to draw the eye, if there's a jade green pair to be drawn.

Black Cat has posed:
Another night. Another foray out into the city to assuage lingering boredom and a sense of unease brought upon by uncertainty. Of course, idle curiosity must also be assuaged and...she did set the Soldier upon a questionable course. Whether or not it was out of spite or twisted amusement or misplaced aid proves yet to be seen...

But the glowstick? It's been spotted from a block or two away and drawn the necessary audience to Bucky. He might catch the spooling of thin grappling line as Felicia approaches and arcs through the air feet first. Her landing, at least a dozen feet away, is a thing of predictable grace and she slowly rises to her feet. Clawed gloves comb her fall of platinum-blonde hair away from her face and reveals her red-red smile fully.

"Can't sleep either?" she asks airily.

Winter Soldier has posed:
It's a bright one, that. It casts an eerie light over the planes of his face, making them look more severe than ever. Gleams in the pale eyes, as he looks over to her. Oddly, his hair is loose, down around his shoulders.

"You don't just walk in the streets, do you, little sister?" he asks, voice wry, rough from cigarettes. There are butts around him - he's been here a while. "And no, I don't sleep much."

Black Cat has posed:
"I prefer flying," replies the Cat as she takes up the easy hips-akimbo stance he's seen before. It has the nuance of long habit and muscle memory. "Still...shame you can't sleep. If you're drinking coffee, maybe lay off of it a little. Same with drugs. I don't know if you do drugs or not, but if so, probably lay off those too."

Her jade-green eyes fall to the glow-stick and rise to his starkly-lit face again. Her irises take on the lighter hue and remain just shy of nightshine-reflective from behind her domino mask. "You sent out the proverbial bat-signal, Mister Barnes. Are you in need of assistance?" By her smile, she's wondering how on earth he'll reply.

Winter Soldier has posed:
He's leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. As if the little light were a fire giving off warmth. He cocks an eye up at her. "Nah. It's not coffee or drugs. Just me."

The mention of the bat signal makes him blink slow, amused. "I met Hank," he says. "Or should I say Honri, Fifi? I dunno. If I ask for help, would you give me a straight story?"

Black Cat has posed:
Her kohl-lined eyes widen in tandem with her smile and Felicia laughs, the sound a chiming peal of amusement.

"Oh man, you //did// go and find Hank! Here I thought you'd get cold feet once you saw the place." White teeth fret the corner of her lip for a second before she giggles again. Her self-satisfaction is apparent from head to toes in her stance. "I can't believe he remembered my name, how sweet of him," the thief simpers. Her lip pouts through her smile -- and any agent worth his salt will recognize her continued amusement as a lie having taken root at the bar. It's not her real name, not in the least.

"I haven't lied to you yet, have I, Mister Barnes? I told you to go find Hank. Whether or not he told you all you needed to know about his take on things isn't on me." She spreads her palm across her decolletage, showcased as it is by the deep vee of her cat-suit.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Yeah, but you didn't give me the straight story, either," he says, scratching the tip of his nose. "He was the real thing, though. I knew him." Looking at her wryly. He won't mention Steve's presence. "Even if the place was a hell of a joke."

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia grins broadly before she seems to take better rein on her reactions. A small clearing of her throat is followed by a purse of lips and gradual shrug of her shoulders.

"You didn't ask me for the straight story, Mister Barnes. You asked me who told me and where to go. I told you these things." Her spread of hands off her shapely hips pleads innocence in matters. "And the place is charming, you be nice to it. Georgie makes a mean Moscow Mule, remember?"

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Wouldn't know. Didn't have one," he says, deliberately taking out his packet of Luckies. He taps one out, then holds the pack out to her, in case she wants one. "Didn't stay real long. And I suppose you're right," he concedes. It's like dealing with faery. The real answer is going to cost you.

Black Cat has posed:
"But it was karaoke night! Hank sings exactly like this older singer guy. Oh, come on..." Felicia rolls her eyes to one side and the glow-stick's light glints on them. "Thanks, but no," she quickly interjects to the cigarettes. "His name starts with an F. Fred. Francis. Frank...it's Frank something."

A flitter of her hand off to one side is followed by a sigh. "Regardless, you missed out. Hank's a great singer, and he always dedicates a song to somebody. So, did he yap your ear off?"

Winter Soldier has posed:
He makes one of those little moues, the facial equivalent of a shrug, and lights up with a clink of the Zippo. "Frank Sinatra?" he wonders, brow arched.

A deep drag, and he exhales through his nose. "He told me a little. Enough to know that he had been on the right trail, back when. I told him a little of the truth, though, and he didn't like it, so I left."

Black Cat has posed:
"That's it," Felicia says with a nod. "That Sinatra guy." She listens regardless and shifts her weight to her other booted foot. The night wind riffles at the fur linings on her suit and dances in her hair to lift it slightly. With the prevailing direction, her perfume can be caught by a sharp nose: warm, golden, vanilla with notes of musk and caramel.

"Betcha you told him something he didn't want to hear. I think..." The Cat slides her gaze to one side introspectively and her brows draw together behind her mask. "I think sometimes...what we want to hear isn't what we need to hear." She meets Bucky's eyes again. "I get that one on a fortune cookie every now and then." Smirk.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Sir Lancelot wouldn't be happy to hear that the dragon he meant to slay for his queen dropped dead of influenza, yeah," Buck says, obliquely. He takes another drag, sighs.

Then he tosses his head, getting hair out of his face. "That's the truth, fortune cookie or no," he agrees.

Black Cat has posed:
The slant explanation has Felicia squinting and pursing her lips for a second, but she decides not to hare off after that line of conversation. There are more cards to play from each hand as is in her personal assessment of the situation at hand.

"Yeah, the truth sucks sometimes. But hey, at least you tried to clear the air, right? However you did it. So...what...you had another question for me or something?" She rolls a few steps closer, eyeing him with the light-footed caution usually on display, and stops again, tease in the foreshortened distance.

Winter Soldier has posed:
He, as ever, keeps that stillness. No hint of movement in her direction, as if too afraid anything might be read as aggression. "I dunno that I do. Y'got me, I guess." Buck shrugs, spreads his hands, the cigarette between first and second of the right hand, the smoke spiralling up like a little column, lit green.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia's pert nose wrinkles. She folds her arms loosely beneath her chest and sighs, her lips thinned. "Look...maybe it looked like that at first, but I did give you your answers, buddy. You got to meet Hank and it sounds like you at least got a little bit of chitchat before he got all old-aged and cranky with you over you trying to be real with him. I wasn't //deliberately// trying to punk you. God, not you...not the Winter Soldier, even if you //were// the Winter Soldier. I bet you still have all of your spooky skill-sets."

She lets the corners of her lips rise into an enticing little grin. "What's the coolest thing you can do?"

Winter Soldier has posed:
Ash flutters to the gravel, as he taps the cigarette discreetly to one side. He considers her for a long moment, lips pursed. Another inhalation, a smoke ring, and he says, "Keep my mouth shut."

Black Cat has posed:
A sassy tilt of her head shifts into a shake, her eyes holding his. Her white-gloved hands rise and affect a golf-clap. "Wow," she deadpans. "Wow, I am just...I am taken //aback// by the concept of a man who can keep his mouth shut. What a trick. I wish I had a little gold star to give you, but I'm fresh out right now -- left 'em at home in the pocket of my other pants."

Jeans, thank you very much, though the pair back at the ranch might as well be painted on Felicia once they're on.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Buck licks his lips, at that. "I'm sure you are, sister. I'm sure you do," he says, in that patient voice. Clearly savoring the cigarette, lazily, not disposed to move.

Or do tricks.

Black Cat has posed:
"Y'know, for being as cool as you are, you're kind of a fuddy-duddy. I didn't mean anything like...look how fast I can garotte somebody or draw a gun or whatever. I mean, like..." Felicia struggles to come up with an idea, her eyes downcast and to one side.

"Maybe you can throw a knife really accurately at the crate or something. Show off a little. I'll swap you: a trick of the trade for one of //my// tricks of the trade. Sound like a deal?" Her jade-green eyes gleam at him again.

Winter Soldier has posed:
She can see him consider that, purse his lips....and then shake his head. "No," he says, in that mild voice. "No thanks." Like she's trying to trade him a cigarette for a chocolate bar, or something. "The whole point of who I used to be was that I didn't show off. I wasn't a guy in a spangly, brightly colored outfit."

Black Cat has posed:
"Yeah, well, you //used// to be that guy. What, does your...not being him span everything? You forget how to handle a throwing knife now?" The Cat shifts in place, her boot's sole rotating silently on the rooftop despite its graveling.

"Sure, Captain America's all 'freedom' and 'stars and stripes' and goodie-two-shoes," and the young woman pauses to make a soft sound in the back of her throat almost like a gag. "Sorry, it's...it's nauseating, the amount of do-goodery. Not my type. I'm glad he's busy with bigger fish than me. You and me, we don't do the lime-light like Mister 'Murica does. We show off in our own ways." She tries a smile.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"I love Steve, but he *is* infuriating," Buck admits, no hesitation at all. Take that, Rogers. "No, I didn't forget. But I'm not a museum exhibit to entertain you, either. People act like that, sometimes. Like people were some how....different in the forties. The human heart stays the same, even if the slang and the clothes change."

He takes a last drag off his cigarette, grinds it out against the wall in a smear of ash and a few tiny sparks. "You show off. I don't."

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia's fingers ripple along the outside of her bicep and yep, that's a taptaptap of her toe.

"You //are// a fuddy-duddy. That's it. That's how I'm addressing you from now on. The Winter //Fuddy-duddy//," she enunciates. "Okay, so, how about this. Will you teach me how to throw a knife? I kind of know how to, but not enough to use it in a fight. Please?" Her entire stance shifts into an accessory to her request. A bend at the waist is absolutely gravity-defying in regards to her suit. Hank had a good point with his commentation in the bar. Fingers interlace beneath her chin and she pouts her bottom lip. "Pretty please? With sugar on top?"

Winter Soldier has posed:
How does she not just....tumble out of that top like grapefruit out of a grocery bag? It's a mystery worth the considering, even if he's not currently moved by all the pearly female flesh on display.

But he still says, with that lazy stubborness, "No." There's a glint of old memory in his face, strong enough to make him wince - other eager young women, determined to learn to fight. To become weapons in their own right. And some of them breaking in the process. "Why would I do that?"

Black Cat has posed:
Perhaps misinterpreting the flicker of emotion on the Soldier's face -- or very, very certain she'll win in this battle of attrition -- Felicia remains leaning in towards him, her white-gloved hands still clasped.

"Because you're not the Winter Soldier anymore? Because you're a good guy somewhere under all that fuddy-duddy grouchiness? Because I'm going to run into somebody one day who tries to knife me and I could use a lesson in self-defense? Because I'm very pretty and you can't resist me?" She flutters eyelashes at him most couquettishly.

Winter Soldier has posed:
He looks away, the picture of a big, lazy dog being pawed at by an importunate kitten. "No," he says, quietly. "No. I...." He can't bring himself to explain about the Widows, about all the uses they put him to in the frozen East. A final shake of his head. "There's plenty of people in New York that can teach you how to fight with a knife, if you want to learn," he says, rubbing at his temple with the heel of his palm. As if to ward off a headache.

Black Cat has posed:
"Yeah, but..."

Felicia now straightens up, her hands still clasped and resting before the belt on her cat-suit. She's frowning, but it's a couched frustration rather than an overt, excessive pout. "I mean...you're probably the best person I know who could. Lots of people teach self-defense in theory. Like...there's learning it and then there's the application of it. Believe me, I'd know." A glimmer of revelation offered out like a tiny gem. "Somebody could teach me how to throw knives and to fight with them, but you...you get it," she finishes on a quiet, deflated note.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Y'know the spiderkid? He's an Avenger. He knows some women Avengers who'd be better at teaching you out to fight. You could ask them - if he'll introduce you," he suggests, leaning back, resting his shoulders against the warm brick of the wall. "Natasha Romanova, for one. And I know there are others - that's the only one I know for sure, though."

God, he's a stubborn bastard.

Black Cat has posed:
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrfffffffffffffffffff......!!!!!!!!!"

Turning on the toe of her boot, the Black Cat literally stomps away across the rooftop. Four steps away, she turns again and marches right back, hands spread out at her sides. "Look, buddy. Pal. Jimmy. Winter Fuddy-Duddy. I //can't// go to the Avengers for training. I can't. I told you that already, that I didn't want to get on Captain America's radar. I bet I can guess who Natasha Romanova is and you're //not// going to see me tangling with her."

A pause and Felicia makes a thoughtful sound to herself, momentarily derailed by the thought of, "Unless it was shopping. She has good taste in clothing. Regardless." Back to scowling. "Come on. Come onnnnnnnnn. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?"

Winter Soldier has posed:
"What makes you think you aren't already on Captain America's radar?" he asks, in all apparent idleness, looking up at her from under his brows. "Who do you think Romanova is?" he adds, toying with his pack of cigarettes, in turn. "No," he says. "I barely know you. And from what I do know, you're up to various illegal things. Hasn't it occurred to you that I'm tryin' pretty hard to keep on the straight and narrow, these days?"

Black Cat has posed:
"You met Spidey. You think he'd lie to me about the Captain knowing who I am? Your spangled buddy has no idea," Felicia says with a grin, pleased as pie about this. "Empty threat, tsk-tsk." A finger tick-tocks back and forth. "Romanova's the other lady in the black suit for the Avengers. She has to be. I don't know anybody else who moves like she does. Some people I know are pret-ty scared of her." The word is broken two-piece for emphasis.

"Besides, you're a secretive kind of guy. I'm a secretive kind of gal. You teaching me knife-work could be our little secret...?" The singsong is everything conniving and enticing alongside the charming grin.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Buck shakes his head at her....and then has to promptly wipe his hair out of his eyes again. Embarrassing. "I don't think Spidey, as you call him, could lie his way out of a wet paper sack," he says, dismissively. "Who's scared of Romanova?" There's a fond little smile at the mention of her. There's a kind of dark pride - he had a hand in shaping the Black Widow.

"No," he says. "I'm not my own master these days. I have a job.....and that job has a lot to do with why I'm not in jail."

Black Cat has posed:
Bucky is literally raspberried at, the sound like a balloon losing its air. "You know what, I give up. Fine. Fine, Mister Barnes. You keep your knife-play to yourself and your job that keeps you out of jail." Felicia lets out a short sigh and turns to walk away from the Soldier.

She stops and glares at him a good dozen feet away. "You underestimate Spidey because you think he's a kid. He's not. He's good people. Anyone in their right mind would be scared of Romanova, since we both appear to know who she is." It's a bluff; the Cat has nothing but an inclination of who the name might belong to on the team. "You just...enjoy your cigarettes and your anonymity and your assumptions."

A deep inhale and she seems to smooth her hackles, returning to the svelte, composed Cat who arrived to conversate. "Anything else smart you have to add before I leave you to your glow-stick?"

Winter Soldier has posed:
"But I'm not anonymous," he points out, in that mild voice. "You know exactly who I am. I don't know who you are, though." Watching her go with an odd bemusement. What a strange little creature.

"I've known a lot of good people," he adds. "That doesn't mean they were smart, or competent, though."

Buck sighs, quietly. "You really like him, don't you?" The men that women choose....it never fails to amaze him.

Black Cat has posed:
Those jade-green eyes roll. "You're splitting hairs about being anonymous, mister. I got lucky overhearing your name as is in the bar. And yeah, what's not to like about Spidey? He's a good man," the Black Cat emphasizes.

"He's got honor and a big heart. I've never seen him kill anybody and y'know what? There are a lot of times where he should've done it -- lots of folks he stopped who didn't deserve another breath." Shaking her head, Felicia takes another few steps away before pausing again.

"He's better people than me anyways," she adds, barely loud enough to be heard.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"But you have it, however you got it," Buck points out. "Both the old name and the new. I don't have yours. And something tells me the Doctor won't give it to me, if I were to show up at his door."

But he shrugs again. "Sounds like Steve. No wonder they get along." Just what Rogers need, a little derpy padawan.

Black Cat has posed:
"I expect him to get along great with Steve, yes. They're both Boy Scouts." Another soft snort leaves Felicia. Still...the Soldier knows how to play her well at this point. She turns rather than leaving when he drops the Doctor's title. Her jade-green eyes narrow.

"You'll find the Doctor's a harder nut to crack than Hank, yes, but if he tells you, he had a good reason to. Don't worry... I'll let him know you might stop by." She curls a self-satisfied grin and winks.

Winter Soldier has posed:
He smiles back at that. Not a smirk, even. "Good," he says...and he even seems to mean it. How very strange.

But then, how likely is it that he'll actually show up on the Doctor's doorstep?

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia arches an imperious brow at him yet again. "Yeah...good," she echoes in blatant suspicion. With a final shake of her head, she turns and saunters away towards the edge of the rooftop. Hate to see her go, love to watch her leave.

"You just have a nice night, Winter Fuddy-Duddy. If I catch you again, I'll give you Hank's love." This is shot over her shoulder at him with a bright grin, purely trouble-making by nature. Zzzzzzip -- there goes the grappling line and swish, there goes the Black Cat off into the night, leaving Bucky to his musings and his glow-stick as promised.