8820/The Wong thing

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The Wong thing
Date of Scene: 15 August 2019
Location: Sanctum Santorum - Base Floor
Synopsis: Felicia talks to 'Wong' about leaving the Sanctum.
Cast of Characters: Loki, Black Cat




Loki has posed:
Knock knock, on the doorframe. The door was already ajar to the space that Felicia was working on packing up. Wong's comfortable round face pokes in, though not intrusively. He doesn't say anything, but his expression says a great deal: a sort of patient quality to it, but also a sorrow. His body is half covered by the door, but he has one of the tasty shakes she enjoys in one hand; looks like cherry, maybe. He has a small knapsack in the other, brown.

Black Cat has posed:
Very quietly, Felicia sniffles as she folds up another shirt. From the looks of things, she's tried very hard to pick and choose what can fit into the single cardboard box she was given -- granted. The free-standing closet is still open and some outfits remain hanging, likely passed over as worth leaving behind. Of course the cat-suit's folded away at the very bottom, next to her make-up and bathroom toiletries.

She looks up sharply at the knock and, realizing it's only Wong, she lets her expression crumple again. "Hi, Wong," she says very quietly, swiping at her face. "I'm almost done, don't worry." She pauses, palms resting on her perfectly-folded shirt pile in the box, and her next question trembles out without her looking up at him. "Have...have you seen Stephen?"

Loki has posed:
Wong shakes his head no. "Not if you do not count the illusionary one," he answers in a quiet way. He brings over the shake and sets it nearby, but if she isn't in the mood for the comfort food, it's clearly not something he's going to push on her. He set down the knapsack too, temporarily.

"I will get you another box," he says, without accepting a no, and disappears from the door. He'll be gone a few minutes, before returning with a second box; it has marks of groceries on it: it was probably from some kind of shipment to the kitchens. He comes back and attempts to put it next to her other one kindly. "It is better to not leave personal possessions with mages," he says softly once he comes back.

Black Cat has posed:
"Okay." Felicia nods after she whispers acknowledgement to his news to the negative down at her folded shirts. While he's gone, she glances over at the shake and then back to the door. Her brows knit into a frown, suspicious, but...it's Wong. He hasn't done a thing wrong to her ever, even if his hen-pecking about her messy kitchen habits will be oddly missed. When he returns, the silhouette of the straw bears the marks of her sipping at the drink, at least a little, in the form of clumps clinging in shadows to its inside surface.

"Thanks," she whispers again. "...and you're right, I shouldn't," she adds after swallowing down a cherry-flavored lump in her throat. "I think it's big enough for the rest." Another wipe at her face follows a sniffle. "I hope you're okay here. Can you leave if you need to? If it's not safe?" Another shirt is meticulously folded up and placed to start a second stacking in the first box, its fabric covering her collection of make-up from sight.

Loki has posed:
"It will be all right. I will keep an eye on things," Wong says, in a matter of fact way. He doesn't want her to worry, maybe: it isn't a good situation, after all. "I will not act against the current Supreme," he begins. "Though I defend and assist the office, not the man. Or god." His duty is to the Sanctum, but he isn't blind. "Where will you go? Will you seek Dr. Strange? There may be ways to track him; he needs to be found." Because Loki could have done something, couldn't he...

Black Cat has posed:
The thief continues gathering up her clothing from the stand-alone closet in a bundling in her arms. As she walks back over to the bed, she gives Wong a hard side-glance.

"I'll find him myself, even if it takes me weeks. He doesn't get to wander off and mope...not without me. He can mope around //me//. We'll figure out a way to fix things." Hangers rattle upon themselves as she forcefully throws the clothing down on the covers. "Frickin' clusterfuck, all of it," Felicia hisses, her temper momentarily spiking.

With a soft mew, Shammy appears from behind one of the double-piles of pillows and pads across the comforter to inspect the cardboard boxes with a delicate sniff. The thief pauses, considering the small creature, and then lets out a slow, wobbly sigh. "...yeah, I guess you should come too, Shammy. You're just a construct."

Loki has posed:
Wong doesn't comment, he just nods once at her statements and her reaction of anger. Wong is good at weathering things. Or at least, he will give it the best effort. He watches her with Shammy without judgement or much reaction: it is just a construct, after all. The fact that the red cloak was floating to one side was not lost on Wong, he looks at it for a measuring moment, and then looks at Felicia again, quiet.

Black Cat has posed:
Pointedly, however, Felicia does not reach out to greet Shammy -- not to pet him or move him from walking all over her clothing pile. Instead, she methodically strips each piece from its hanger and tosses the hanger uncaringly away into a growing pile at the far corner of the end of the bed.

She too is fully aware of the Cloak and its silent, watchful presence. It grates on her. Still, she can't keep her thoughts to herself forever, not after realizing that Wong is still standing there.

"What, he's not ordering you around like some go-fer?" she asks him with a glance red-rimmed of eye at him after she shoves another four shirts away into the first box. This brings it to brimming and she moves to start packing the second grocer's box. "He does like to order people around. He hates humans too, by the way. He'd probably happily tie you to a spinning wheel on the wall and throw daggers at you for giggles and shit," she growls quietly. A shirt nearly tears at the shoulder seam before the Cat catches herself and visibly calms herself.

Loki has posed:
Wong watches her in a quiet way, but his gaze does seem to show empathy. He is helping: by listening. He doesn't need to talk, really. He does move over and extend a hand towards the hangars. He doesn't ask verbally, but the gesture reads as trying to help move things, not just stand and stare at her.

Black Cat has posed:
His outstretched hand is considered for a moment and Felicia gives him a look momentarily bemused before her ire deflates further. A hanger is handed off to him...and another...and another. Before long, in a brief two minutes' span of time, Wong is holding at least six hangers. The grocer's box is about half-full when she pauses to consider the boudoir. Her hands start at her hips. They migrate to her lips again to hide their trembling. Shammy lets out a soft sound where he sits on the cover, looking up at her with large gem-like eyes.

That's enough to override caution in the thief's mind. She scoops up the lanky kitten and cuddles him to her chest, his small head tucked beneath her chin, and she allows a few more silent tears to fall down her face. "I just...I wish it didn't happen," she whispers to the soft fur between his ears.

Loki has posed:
The cloak suddenly moves towards Felicia, ends up and outstretched, as if it were moving to either hug ... or smother. Did Felicia just pick up something that wasn't hers?

"Don't touch her," Wong says to the cloak with firmness. It seems to tremble a little, as if debating between different conflicting messages.

Black Cat has posed:
By the time Wong's last word has fallen from his lips, the thief has cleared the bed and is on the other side, trembling like a brittle leaf in an autumn wind. Shammy mrrowls in the back of his throat and digs harder into her shirt, making her wince as tiny claws prickle at her skin.

"Shammy is mine," she says in a radiantly firm voice fractured through. "He was a gift." Her eyes flicker to Wong and linger, however. A series of fast breaths leave her before she adjusts Shammy against her throat again.

"I didn't think it listened to you."

Loki has posed:
"I am not certain that it has," Wong admits, holding one palm out towards it, as if it were a horse and he'd steady it with a physical gesture. "I think the cloak can make choices on its own, though," he adds, more softly, as if emploring the cloak to stay back. With a strange little flutter, the cloak suddenly zips out of the door.

Wong's hand drops, and he looks at her uncertainly. "Powerful magical relics have their own opinions. I think it has favored you," he says, with a brief smile.

Black Cat has posed:
It's a hateful little kernel of relief in her stomach to see the relic leave the room. Felicia shakes her head slowly, her eyes falling to the floor. "I don't think so. It listens to a master. It wouldn't listen to me." Shammy wraps his front legs around her neck and sticks his cold nose against her pulse. He's rewarded with the thief holding him closer yet. The little creature is warm and comforting.

With the Cloak gone, she minces back to the far side of the bed. With one hand, she pulls the grocer's box over and looks down into it. "I think that's everything...wait, no." A little sigh leaves her. There's the bedside drawers to clean out. Shammy's set on the covers after she detaches each paw from her t-shirt.

Loki has posed:
"This is yours as well," Wong says, lifting the knapsack, and setting it on top of the box, such that it juts out a little way. "No need to open it now." Meaning, don't open it in the Sanctum. He then moves to look around the room slowly, and then at Shammy. "He is better with you; I know Dr. Strange checked him. He's clean, though we were unsure where he was made, it was not Asgardian."

Black Cat has posed:
It turns out there's nothing critical in the bed-side drawers after all. The items are assorted, mostly simple things like bobby pins, a small hairbrush, mints, spare change, thin-chain necklace with a small pendant -- the minutae that tend to collect from pockets when one's cleaning them out. These end up in one of Felicia's socks, knotted off at the cuff.

Felicia looks from the knapsack and to Wong, lips thin. "...thank you," she says slowly. It's smaller and its material darker-hued than the one she delivered the Orbs back to the Sanctum. "When did Stephen tell you that he thought Shammy was not Asgardian? He doesn't like Shammy." Felicia squints at Wong now.

Loki has posed:
A shrug from Wong. "During a short discussion of the nature of the source of magic that dwells in imbued objects," answers the man, without defensiveness. It is what it is, and he isn't defensive about it.

"No need to thank me for something that is already yours," Wong says more pointedly, and then looks to the smoothie, or what's left of it. He gestures at it in a 'are you done' manner, perhaps expecting to give her some space and personal time.

Black Cat has posed:
"Oh." Felicia deflates again, as if she'd been hoping to find some loose end to chase and pounce upon in fury. Shammy walks to the edge of the bed and reaches out to her with a paw, toes splaying even as he chirrrups questioningly. As if he could be resisted, now of all times. Up he goes again and back into the crook of her neck, where he takes up a soft patterning of purrs.

Her jade-green eyes land on the smoothie and she blinks, as if just remembering it were there again. "I'm still working at it, thank you," she replies quietly to the stoic librarian-mage. "What do you mean, it's already mine...?" Reaching across the bed, she snags the satchel and makes to work at the clasp with one hand -- as if she'd open it here and now thoughtlessly.

Loki has posed:
Wong gives her a sort of reserved and despairing stare, similar to the look he had had when he first met her and she asked about the new 'management'. Like he's tired. He ignores her question, and starts to turn to leave: perhaps to not be present when she decides to open the thing.

A hand near the clasp will catch a chill and sensation, though: just like when she'd brought her hand near one of the Seasonal orbs.

Black Cat has posed:
With a gasp, Felicia yanks her hand away from the metal clasp. The metal was shockingly cold, as if it had been in the freezer, but maybe it's a trick of the ambient air temperature of her room...? Her druthers are for warmth, without a doubt. She looks up and frowns at Wong.

"Wait... I should open this later...? Not here? Because...he'll know?" 'He' being, no doubt, the Trickster God.

Loki has posed:
"In more truth, it's just a bag of Dr. Strange's things; it is yours until you choose to deliver it," Wong responds without inflection. "I don't go through his belongings," he adds, as if he were sticking to the facts and nothing but the facts. Whether there's a spy in the room isn't clear from his behavior, other than that he doesn't seem worried.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia's smile towards the librarian-mage is tremulous. "Thank you, Wong," she whispers. The satchel is left unopened for now, like as not out of respect for the presumed contents. It goes away into the grocer's box as carefully as she had manage with one hand; after all, Shammy is still clinging like a burr and vibrating away like a small motorboat.

"Wong, before you go... You lived with Stephen for a long time." Her eyes are beseeching and, in their depths, an unwavering candle-gleam's worth of hope glows. "How would you find him?"

Loki has posed:
"Nothing magical," Wong admits as he stops in the doorway. "He walks the same paths when he needs to think and recover. They are well worn-in ruts by now, I suspect," says the librarian. He considers a little longer, gives her a parting smile, and walks off down the hallway.