8683/A Fateful Meeting

A Fateful Meeting
Date of Scene:	07 August 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	A whirlwind meeting of chance between Shannon, Steve Rogers, and Tony Stark
Cast of Characters:	Nightingale, Captain America, Iron Man

---

Nightingale has posed:
     Cabin fever and the nagging worry of Magneto's approach could wreak havoc on the most stalwart and steady of souls. It was no exception in the case of a young tow-headed mutant woman, who sought refuge in the hustle and bustle of an area she was fairly certain would be friendly to her kind. And there was no hiding what she was at a glance, either--not with wings reminiscent of a classical painting of an angel. She's just coming out of the music shop with a small paper bag in hand, perhaps the right size for a notebook, and not exactly watching where she's going.

Captain America has posed:
Sometimes, it takes a motorcycle ride out of the hustle and bustle of New York City to bring Steve to a calmer mindset. Looming concerns, both mental and literal both in the form of Sentinels, plague him day and night. For now, at the close of the day, he rolls into Salem Centre on the Harley bike just as any tourist might, having dictated this town to be the end of his journey. Here, he'll stretch his legs and wander about the stores, inquire inside about specific novelties and enjoy the peace and quiet appearing to hover over the town as a whole.

The bike's throaty rumble falls to silence as he parks it alongside the walkway and removes his helmet. This is slung over his handlebars as he deems the surroundings polite enough that no one will steal it. Anyone who's kept track of interviews or seen pictures might be able to identify him, even if he's got helmet-hair. Dismounting, the man in his brown leather jacket and jeans, combat boots and good-natured air, then leaves the bike in order to consider the line of stores. Ah, maybe the music store -- they could have another book of guitar tabs for him to practice.

Upon approaching the door, he takes an abrupt step back as it opens before him and then a step to one side. "Ah, sorry about that, didn't think it opened this direction," he comments quietly. The sight of those wings are enough to make his eyebrows jump. That is admittedly something he doesn't see every day.

Nightingale has posed:
     The young woman isn't blind to the raised eyebrows, though her own go up in kind. No way. Just.. no way. She tries to minimize the appearance of her wings by drawing them in fairly tightly behind her, tucked in close to her spine. It doesn't help much. "It's alright. I should've watched my step there." From within the store, there's a mild cacophony of patrons testing out drums, keyboards, and various other instruments, with differing levels of skill on each. She steps aside to let him enter, ducking her head. "Just got a lot on my mind... sorry for almost mowing you down there."

Captain America has posed:
"It's not a problem," the Captain insists quietly. He too remains stepped to one side as he considers her, especially the wings, and smiles to himself. How interesting this modern world is, with new discoveries every day for him since his releases from the confines of glacial imprisonment.

"Are you a local around here? I'm just visiting from out of town and figured I'd see the sights. Any good stores around here? Thought I'd check for guitar music books here first," he explains, attempting a fairly normal vein of comfortable conversation even if the door is left open otherwise.

Nightingale has posed:
     The young woman shrugs and shakes her head, her wings ruffling in an echo of the gesture behind her. Fine, if the Captain would not step inside, she would come out to join him instead. Though one might perhaps be able to discern recognition in her expression as she glances up at him, she also nibbles her lower lip, considering just how much to say. "I'm not local, either. The last time I was here was to help out over at the hospital, in the pediatrics ward. I didn't get to see much else at the time." She tucks the paper bag beneath her left arm, offering her other hand. "I'm Shannon."

Captain America has posed:
"Nice to meet you, Shannon. Captain Rogers," Steve replies by way of introduction. Returning the offered handshake with firm and yet polite pressure, he tilts his head and considers the winged young woman. "Pediatrics ward? I hope you didn't have family there. If so, hope they're doing okay." His expression is empathetic now. Hands get stuffed away into the pockets of his jacket as he glances through the door's glass panels at the interior of the music store. It does appear to have a sizable selection of books from what he can see beyond the collection of keyboards and one drum-set being violently and lovingly played on acoustic mute by someone likely wondering about buying it.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon shakes her head. "No, my family's back in Connecticut. I was shadowing a healer there." Her brows furrow, and her shoulders slump very slightly as she, too, half-listens to the joyous, chaotic tangle of notes and rhythms coming from the inside of the shop. "I hope they're alright, too." Her voice has dropped slightly in volume, a tiny quaver belied by the smile she offers. "So what about you? Just poking around the shop, or do you play at all?"

Captain America has posed:
"Oh." By the lift of Steve's brows once more, and then the way his eyes travel over her assessingly, with not a touch of impropriety, he must be wondering about //why// she was shadowing a healer. "I play the guitar, thought I'd find some new sheet music to work on. Don't get much spare time to do it, but it's nice when I do. You play an instrument too, I assume? What'd'you play?"

He takes a step back as another patron leaves the store and makes certain to give them nothing more than a faint smile at most. Dimples, unfortunately, tend to rat him out socially as the Captain.

Nightingale has posed:
"Piano, mostly. Some flute, too, singing alto, and composing music on the computer." Shannon's expression brightens visibly at this newly discovered common point, canting her head to one side. "I wish guitar was one of the things I could play... even for just one song." She hasn't got dimples, alas, but with the proverbial ice broken, her smile is warmer than it had been moments before, something of a twinkle in her azure eyes.

Captain America has posed:
"Figure if you play the piano, it wouldn't be too hard to pick up. You'd already have a good ear for chord changes. Might be hard on the wrists at first, but your joints would get used to it. I took it up to pass the time when it's quiet. Not quiet often," the Captain admits with a wry shrug of his broad shoulders.

"I figured I'd see if this place has a book of older songs, maybe something out of Europe." Steve glances again at the interior of the store and back to Shannon. "I feel better when I buy locally. It's easy to order things on the Internet, but it's...impersonal," he explains.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods and chuckles softly, glancing down at her hands. "It may be less about the wrists, and more about the length of my fingers. There's some pieces on the piano I just can't play because I don't have the reach for them. Short fingers." She cants her head slightly to one side, tucking a bit of pale gold away behind her ear. "If you run a couple songs by me, maybe I could try looking them up and transcribing a lead sheet for you, if that'd help any?"

Captain America has posed:
"That's a thought," Steve allows. He looks down and to one side, frowning, combing through his formidible memory to locate the songs in particular he intended to -- well, hoped to find -- in another book of sheet music. A leaf drifts by on the sidewalk, harbinger of encroaching autumn and brought down by a breeze and the dry weather of the season.

"Well...they're not well-known -- haven't heard 'em except for at cultural events and rarely then. One's called 'Oro Se do Beathe Bhaile' and the other's 'Teir Abhaile Riu'." By the way Steve speaks the Gaelic language, it was his cradle-tongue.

Nightingale has posed:
     "You'll be surprised what you can find, if you dig around deep enough." Shannon tugs open the top of the leather bag tied to her belt; if Steve were to catch a glimpse inside, a few things recognizable as the beginnings of basic first aid supplies might be seen--along with a couple writing utensils. Hey, it never hurt to keep a pen and pencil on hand, right? She plucks out a pen from the bag and tugs it shut again, pulling out what looks like a book of blank staff paper from the paper bag she's carrying. Flipping the book open, she writes down the names of the songs, or at least attempts to. "Sounds Gaelic... is there maybe a rough translation that'd help the search for those?"

Iron Man has posed:
A lot of presumptions get made when Tony Stark is involved. The latest presumption comes in the form of a quickly fired off text to Steve Rogers' mobile device. The message is simple, but perhaps carries quite a bit of Tony's usual entitled (and intrusive) expectations:

< Oh hey Steve, you're nearby. Fooooooood? Stay put; I'll find you after I'm done here. >

Captain America has posed:
"Gaelic, right." Steve's confirmation comes with a small smile now; how wonderful, someone guessed right for once. "'s'far as translations, the first has got a chorus that roughly translates 'O-ro, welcome home' - you'll find the first one easy enough with that one. The second one's a bit more difficult, it's..."

His phone chimes, a particular tone, and his expression takes on a bemused crumpling of interest. "Sorry, heh, gimme a sec," the Captain says as he's pulling out his cellphone. He gives the screen a cursory glance and smirks to himself. "A friend," comes the explanation. "You'll probably recognize him." Shannon gets an eyebrow even as Steve turns in place to scan their surroundings. There won't be missing this one, after all.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon smiles, noting the approximate translation of the first song next to its title. "Sounds like it'd be a really nice song, with a chorus like that." And just as she was about to make a note of the second translation....

     ...all hell broke loose. Proverbially speaking, of course. She tilts her head, curious but not poking about in things that just weren't her business. That explanation, though, does get her to raise one eyebrow. "Why do I have this feeling like I'm about to dodge an incoming train?"

Iron Man has posed:
No, it's hard to miss the social juggernaut of Tony Stark. There's zero attempt to blend in, but at least he didn't throw a press conference about it either. So, it's more the usual public parade behavior.

The parade involves some distracted, easy waves towards people that yell greetings at him as he passes them, a pause for a selfie with a kid, and a lot of staring. Generally he's stared at; it's like being near a rock concert, but not really expecting the talent to appear a few feet away, let alone without any handlers to contain the show.

'Find you' was a polite, subtle way to say 'I know where you are', in Tony-speak. So he's walking right over, in his indirect fan-greety way. He heads over, directly through a patch of people, with the expectation that they'll move - they do: he's not wrong. "Hi," Tony says, flashing a sleek smile, drawing even to Steve's side, as if the pair had been waiting for him to join them. His smile moves with relaxed confidence to Shannon, without dimming at all. "Recruiting new Avengers without me? You know how I feel about that," Tony teases, while sending a wink to Shannon through his yellow-tinted glasses. Tony's dressed fashionably as usual, though in this case, it is a nostalgic t-shirt under one of his tailored suit jackets, jeans, expensive new sneakers.

Captain America has posed:
Shannon's dubious commentary is enough to make the Captain stifle a laugh. "Nah, not a train." It doesn't take Steve long to espy the genius-inventor on approach. The coterie usually forming about the man is addressed with practiced ease, as it always is, and Steve eyebrows at Tony upon the man's arrival at his side. It is an easy stance, how the super-soldier stands, comfortable with the juggernaut of Tony's personality present.

"Not recruiting, just discussing the local penchant for musicality. Tony, this is Shannon. Shannon, this is Tony Stark." The way Steve names the man has the barest hint of tamped-down laughter. He likely didn't need a proper introduction.

Nightingale has posed:
     While Shannon had begun to feel a bit more at ease around the Captain, especially with a common interest in the arts, that pretty well went out the window the moment Tony showed up. She clamped her mouth shut, biting back any colorful metaphors or 'dubious commentary' that might otherwise slip out. Too, those sweeping wings of hers fold themselves around in front of her in a snowy, feathery cocoon, ruffling as if caught in a light breeze. She ducks her head and smiles shyly. "Pleasure to meet you."

     Wait, wha...? Now her jaw really -does- drop, listening to the interchange between Tony and Steve, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle her laughter. "You have -got- to be kidding me... there is no way in heck I am anywhere near ready for anything like that!"

Iron Man has posed:
"I never kid. Everything that comes from me, dead serious. I'm severe, really; sarcasm is a form of self defense I'd never use," Tony jokes in deadpan, and looks over his glasses at Steve as if daring him to say otherwise. He does take pity on the angelic girl as she seems so distressed, though. "Pleasure? Sure. I'm big on pleasure; no worries." Tony diffuses it with an easy motion of hand.

"---Musicality? Hmm, alright," Tony answers, in a manner that suggests that half of his brain just went elsewhere into something else. It's revealed to be a tap to the side of his glasses, and some reflective movement in the visuals inside them, the high tech HUD flicking between some updates. He's multitasking, but it doesn't have a rude edge: more that this is just who Tony is.

"I also often partake of a vibrant array - no - cacophony? of sound --, but I can entertain myself if you need a little more time here," Tony says, generous, rotating one loosely closed fist to bump his knuckles against Steve's upper arm once in a familiar, friendly manner. It's as if he'd been invited, and not the opposite.

Captain America has posed:
Glancing between the winged young woman and Tony, the Captain can't help the soft snort. He doesn't dare say otherwise of Tony's claim: it's entirely true, and his wheat-gold brows dance up in silent agreement. As if to play along with the genius-inventory's placation, he leans after the knuckles bounce from his arm back and into place again.

"You don't have to go if you don't want, Tony. I thought you were hungry anyways? I think I saw a milkshake parlor on the way in, half a block down that way." His offer includes Shannon in how he looks to her and then back to Tony once more. "I can check out this place another time."

Nightingale has posed:
     Bewildered and bemused, Shannon just looks as if she did indeed get hit by an oncoming freight train, although the only thing that even hinted at iron was Tony. She just laughs and shrugs. "Heck, why not? Not as if I need to be back at school for a while anyways." Keeping to herself which school, that is. Seriously, though, an Avenger? What the heck were those two thinking?

Iron Man has posed:
"Yep, milkshakes, and food. They'll make whatever we want," Tony observes with his general confidence about things. Billionaires look at life a little differently. A life where things materialize with enough money flung at them. "On me. You can brag at school that I fed you; do you need a note?" Tony's amused by the whole idea. "'Sorry I'm late: the Avengers had an open slot defeating some milkshakes'," Tony states, with a broad pass of a hand in the air as if dictating to invisible secretaries. He's also started to walk, assuming they're coming.

Captain America has posed:
"We will give you a note if you need it," Steve reassures the winged young woman, falling into line with his generally-accepted pragmatic stance of the two men. He also falls into step beside Tony with a practiced step, his stride unthinkingly matching that of the man. "Where's school at then? Local, I assume?"

After all, she's given no indication of needing to address a vehicle just yet.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon bursts out laughing, shaking her head. "You two are something else! What, I don't know, but definitely something else!" She rolls her eyes, bringing up the rear of the trio as they go in search of sweet sustenance. "Locally... yeah, you could say that. Sophomore year. And I doubt I'll need a note... it's not as if either of you are entirely unfamiliar with the place. Something about a cookout there oh, three, maybe four weeks ago?" Yeah, okay, there was no way to avoid breaking the ice with this pair around. Broken, nothing. The ice was -obliterated-. "So it seems that Captain Rogers isn't the only one of you with an interest in music, then?"

Iron Man has posed:
"'Interest' is questionable here, do not be fooled: he's the same one that dislikes when I bring a soundtrack into a mission," Tony 'complains' of Steve, but the smirk isn't really carrying any real weight. The friendship between the two men is a solid one, although rife with teasing.

Tony slows some, his gait changing, as he turns his focus back to the inside of his glasses. Something there has more of his attention. A similar alert will pass onto Steve's phone.

"Looks like I'll be using that soundtrack here shortly. I'll cover this fine solo, Cap; just do me the favor of bringing me a burger and chili fries to the mansion," Tony says, his tone abruptly sliding from playful ease into something a little different.

The ease is still there, so is the play, but an assertive strength came in, too. His food will wait. "Make him give you a note anyway, sell it on ebay," Tony bids to Shannon teasingly, pointing at her, and then is suddenly striding off, talking quietly to his headset. Heroes don't always get to sit and have meals like normal people: but that's part of the job.

Captain America has posed:
"What you call a soundtrack is questionable, Tony," the Captain fires back easily. He's quick to catch the way the genius-inventor slows in his steps and just as quick on the draw to pull out his cellphone once more. His brows meet and he gives Tony a look of concern, momentarily heedless of Shannon, meaning no insult by it in his intensity.

Silently, he watches his fellow Avenger leaves before sighing quietly. "Sorry to have to go, but duty calls. Here," and Steve reaches into the pocket of his brown leather coat. Out comes a business card, plain but for his title, 'Cpt Steve Rogers' and a number upon it. "If anyone at Xavier's decides to give you flak, show 'em this. That'll forward to my direct number. You can text me if you find any of that sheet music. There's no pressure, I can hunt myself as well," he's sure to add with a small smile. It fades as he glances over his shoulder again towards where Tony was last seen.

"Thanks again for the chat, Shannon. You have a good day, alright?" Turning to walk away towards his motorcycle, the Captain offers Shannon a final wave of leave-taking.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon frowns a little, the intensity and change in mood from both Steve and Tony not lost on her in the slightest. She nods slowly, reaching out to pluck the card from Steve's hand with a light smile. "If this is any indication, it sounds like I might have a little more free time for the search. Anyways, it's something I'd enjoy doing." She tucks the card away in her brown leather pouch and cinches it shut, stepping back and waving. "It really was great to meet you both. Thank you, really." If there was trouble afoot, it was probably prudent of her to hotfoot it back to the school, which she does. Spreading her wings wide, she takes off into the air, heading back northwards at a fairly decent clip, glancing down at the ground one last time. Perhaps she would meet those two under better circumstances another day.