Ninety-One and Counting
Captain America is old. Sharon Carter is not. Captain America is sincere. Sharon Carter is arcastic. Captain America embarasses easily. Sharon Carter pushes buttons. So they eat lunch.



"No, I'm sorry. Truly I am. I'm supposed to help you acclimate and instead I'm laughing at your choice in music. Very rude."

Dockers virtually tap dance down the stairs of the large government building. Only to stop at the bottom with a kind of hop. Evidently it's good to be outside. At least mostly. At the bottom of the stairs, Steve Rogers stares blankly at the New York skyline in silent wonder. His lips part, his eyes widen, and his chin lifts just a little higher, taking in this extremely foreign place. While there's hints of familiarity that reflect in his eyes, but it's simultaneously uncomfortable.

The leather aviator flack jacket, with its dark brown color and lamb skin collar likely appear retro to most, but it's one of the few things Steve feels truly comfortable in. His eyes narrow while his hands seek out the pockets of his jacket as he considers what's next. His chin turns over his shoulder to the right, speaking to his mandated escort as he adapts to life in 2013. "What would you do?" There's a pregnant pause, begging to be extended, but Steve leaves it there. To sit.

Sharon Carter is likewise dressed in civvies. Jeans, tank top and jacket make her look more like a native New Yorker out for a stroll than the highly trained SHIELD agent she is. Though almost a foot shorter than her companion, she doesn't feel the need to constantly crane her neck upwards in order to talk to him. She's not originally from the Big Apple, but she's lived here long enough for the view to be common place and ordinary. There's no wonder for her - it's all things she's seen a million times.

"Well." The woman glances about, at a loss. She's not a tour guide. "The Empire State Building, Brooklyn Bridge, Statue of Liberty were all there in the 40s. Can't imagine they changed that much. Modern art, maybe? Laser tag? We could catch you up on the past 60 years worth of movies you missed. You may be the only person on the planet who doesn't know who Luke Skywalker's father is."

Sharon says a bunch of words at Steve doesn't know. Laser tag. Luke Skywalker. His lips press together tightly, as he chews on his own consideration of the last sixty(?) years. And then, finally giving birth to the original thought he hmmms, "I'm ninety-one." The words seem unbelievable even as they come out of Steve's mouth. "I fought in a world war." His head turns back towards the skyline. "And pretty much everyone I've ever known is dead."

His eyebrows draw together, "Movies don't really seem like something i should be catching up on." Pause. "History though… I probably missed some things?"

A crease of a frown appears on Sharon's face and she takes a quick glance at the super soldier. "At least you aged gracefully. You don't look a day over 70." The whole emotional thing is not exactly her strong suit. She leans more on sarcasm and humor. There's nothing she can joke about when he talks about everyone he knows being dead. In the long pause, she looks back out toward traffic. "Sorry." Whether it's for her joke or that the life that he missed while in a coma is not clear.

"I'm not sure where to take you for more modern history. We could go to the Natural History Museum, but that's all ancient stuff." She thinks. "We could turn on the History Channel or something. Public library? There'll be a ton of books."

Steve actually chuckles at the apology. He holds up his hands and shakes his head, "No, I should be apologizing. I'm sorry ma'am. Still getting used to things." And missing things. Like his date. Sad days. He manages a twitch of a smile at the public library. "And thanks, I'm glad I don't look my age." Kind of. His eyes squint while he tilts his head, "I could also ask maybe?" And then, without having the okay on that front he hmms, "So we won the war… no more nazis then?"

"Why should you be apologizing?" Sharon raises an eyebrow and starts off at a slow pace down the street. They may not have picked a destination yet, but they shouldn't be gabbing about on the stairs. "You lost almost everything fighting evil. You say what you want to say." When he decides to ask her questions about history, she blinks. That's not what she was thinking of, actually. She thought her duty as escort was to make sure he didn't get hit by a car and figure out how to use a cellphone.

At least military history is a part of history she is well versed in. "Oh. Uh, alright, sure. Yeah. We won the war. Hitler sealed himself in a bunker when the Allies made it to Berlin and killed himself. The Germans surrendered a few days later. Japan fought on for a few more months. President Truman - oh, uh, I'm not sure on exact dates for you, but President Roosevelt died in office before the German surrender. We'd been developing atomic weapons during the war and President Truman ordered two atomic bombs dropped on Japan. They surrendered after that." The end of World War II in a nutshell. "Do you just want the abridged version of American history?"

Steve says nothing about losing everything. He has always been willing to do what it takes. The silence continues as she fills him in about World War II, although the bit about the atomic bombs causes an eyebrow to tick upwards. Winning the war is a plus, compromising values to finish it off… well… that's not so warm and fuzzy to Captain America. His lips purse together in consideration of the question before nodding. "Yes ma'am. That might be helpful. Seems I missed more than I thought."

The eyebrow is met with a shrug. Sharon wasn't alive at the time the decisions were made. Whether she agrees with them or not doesn't matter anymore. "Well, let's grab a bite, then, if you're hungry. I've got a craving for a burger. History makes me hungry." This may mean that listening to Steve talk will leave her starving. "And no need to keep calling me ma'am. Sharon's fine."

The Captain's lips edge upwards with a nod. "That sounds… good." There's almost a shyness in his gaze as his hands retreat into his pockets. "Are there good burgers in 2013?" humour reflects in the question. "There was this awesome little soda shop just up the street back in the 30's. It was the best — best burgers and best shakes you'd ever eat…"

A soft laugh meets Steve's question. Perhaps it's rude to do so, but her job is to acclimate a man who was frozen during the 1940s to 2013. That's not anything she ever expected to do. It's like talking to a living breathing time capsule. She knows that he's joking, but it's still a surreal conversation. "As far as I can tell. Haven't found the best, yet, but there are still some good ones. We don't eat straight from pills and there's no flying cars." With a raised eyebrow, they start off toward that direction. "Well, it's not a soda shop any more. It's a diner. But, I think it's still there, come on."

Right where Steve remembered it to be is an old building. It's seen better days, but there's no denying that the woodwork of the booths and the linoleum floor are old. The pair are led to a booth and Sharon slips into her seat easily. "Does it look the same as it did back in your day?" She's genuinely curious.

"Well, your investigation needs to continue then, ma'am. That is, until you find the best," Steve issues her a genuine smile — the kind without pretense or attitude. There's almost a gentleness in it. The diner is met with an arch of his eyebrow and a broadening of his smile. "It's… close," he murmurs as he slides into the red booth. "These have been redone," he says as he taps the back of the booth. "And the floor was shinier back then. Bar stools at the counter for kids to have one milkshake, two straws… a jukebox with the best tunes" the smile grows even more as he spots a jukebox in the corner. It's had a facelift, but it's certainly a machine he recognizes. "Do you have a nickle?" it's an honest question. "Maybe it has one of my favourites…" Because music costs a nickle…

"Sharon." She's firm on reminding him to call her by her name. Ma'am is the SHIELD secretary who has had the job for thirty years and could still probably kill her with her pen. "Don't worry, I'm still looking. It just takes a lot of trial and error." Despite her continual correction, her lips twitch upward into a smirk. Sharon's only known this place as the old diner on the corner. It's interesting to try and see it through Steve's eyes. "It's had about sixty years of people walking over it," is her response to why the floors aren't so shiny. Digging into her pocket, she pulls out a dollar. "That's another thing. Everything's much more expensive. A dollar should get you about five songs, I think."

"Right. Sharon," Steve repeats. His smile fades some at the notion of a song costing four times what he thought. "That's quite the mark up on music," he hmmms quietly. Or quite the mark up on everything. All the things. Ever. "I suppose that's true, can't see why they wouldn't get a little stuffed." He takes the dollar bill and strolls over to the juke box, feeling just a stitch insecure about where the bill goes. Finally, after some inspection, he finds the slot and inserts the bill. He rubs his hands together and scans the list madly for anything familiar. But he comes up short and finally settles on something call 'Right Round.' Flo Rida's music begins to blare from the machine prompting both of the Captain's eyebrows to arch upwards. "Well. Music has certainly changed…"

Sharon's eyebrows raise practically into her hairline when Captain America puts on 'Right Round'. And, then, the giggles start. First, softly and then until it is an uncontrollable laughing fit. "Th-th-this is one…of your…favorites?" She gasps out. The woman was suspecting 'Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree' or possibly 'Hot Time in Berlin' and what she hears is Flo Rida. It takes her quite awhile, but she manages to bring herself back to some semblance of sanity. However, she still giggles every now and again. "I…wow. Sorry." She takes a long and deep breath, as if she's about to plunge into deep water. "I'm so sorry. It's just that…if my aunt could have seen you play that song, I think she would have died laughing."

There's a smirk at the question as Steve shakes his head, "No, no. Not a favourite. I didn't know anything in the box," he points back towards it with his thumb. "I was looking for something quite different. But they didn't have anything I recognized." His cheeks actually hue red at the music and its lyrics. Inappropriate. Bad choice Cap. Do better next time. "Your aunt?" he asks with an intrigued tick of his eyebrow. There's no doubt that Captain America had his heyday. People know him as an icon.

"No, I'm sorry. Truly I am. I'm supposed to help you acclimate and instead I'm laughing at your choice in music. Very rude." Sharon schools her expression into one that's more serious, but the cheeky grin is hard to put away once it's unleashed. "I'll make sure Carter gives you a music download once we're back at SHIELD. He keeps quite a large collection on his computer." As for her aunt, she knows this will be a bit of a sticky subject with the Captain and decides to sort of side step it. Though she never really knew the full story of her aunt and Steve, there were quite the rumors in her family. It may be part of the reason she was put on his detail and a topic she'd like to avoid. The grin fades somewhat, as suits the more serious subject. "Yeah. She was a huge fan. Talked about you constantly."

"2013 pretty much has strange taste in music," Steve decides as the song, thankfully changes. He ended up randomizing the last of the music. Macklemore's Thrift Sop begins to play, prompting the Captain to wrinkle his nose disapprovingly, but he doesn't comment on it. He just lets it play without further comment. He shrugs at the notion of being mentioned, "Really? That's… sort of odd." The words are in earnest. "What does she say?"

"Well, the 40s did, too." Every generation has the songs they'd rather forget. Sharon's smirk returns a bit when the music changes to Macklemore, but all she comments is: "There are some good modern songs." As for her aunt, the woman shrugs. "Really? Odd?" His confusion is met with her own. "She served in the war, but my mother was born at the very end of it. My grandparents apparently called her their victory baby." It's a fond memory, but she's talking too much about herself. "Anyway, she was in SHIELD before it was even called SHIELD, so she knew you. When she came to visit, I'd always ask about the war and she'd tell me stories about Hydra and storming fortresses."

The smile softens as Sharon explains more about her aunt's history. "Well maybe not as odd as I think it is," but then, to Steve, he's still the little guy trying to stand up to the bullies. Even if he's not so little anymore. "She knew me?" inquisitively, his chin drops, "Like knew me knew me or knew who I was knew me? Sorry. I just." His smile takes on an awkward and apologetic edge. "So… this whole business runs in your family then? Like you're destined or something?"

"It's fine." Sharon waves a hand when Steve starts to apologize again to head that off at the pass. "I'm here to help you get situated in 2013. There's sure to be a learning curve. We'll take it as we go." While she'd rather be doing field work, taking care of the last super soldier isn't a demotion. She'll get him an iPhone, put him on Wikipedia and then she'll be back infiltrating terrorist in no time. It's also strange to see and converse the soldier her aunt told her stories about as a child. "I got the impression that she knew you. But, I guess? I mean, I'm the one that chose to sign up for SHIELD. No destiny there. My family didn't exactly want me to, but I did it anyway."

There's a twinkle in Steve's eyes that reflects the sheer wonder of it all. His life has almost seemed like a fairytale thus far. "What's your aunt's name?" there's a hint of intrigue, wonder, and perhaps, even a stitch of hope. Not that it would matter. It's been like sixty years. His cheeks actually flush as he thinks about the learning curve. "I don't want to make your life more difficult ma'am. I almost — " his head turns towards the window "I could tag along with you instead of the reverse, maybe?" He raises both of his hands semi-apologetically, "I mean only until I get my bearings."

"I'd be a lot more irritable if you were making my life difficult." While Sharon lives for her work, if she's ordered to do something she'll do it. This is almost a vacation from what she normally does. "That's fine with me, though I think I have a bit more security clearance than you do these days. So, they won't be headed back to the office." If she's going to treat this as a day off, however, they can go out and do something she would do on her day off. "We could head to the range. I've been meaning to get some practice in." She was also going to go to her boxing gym, but she's not about to go mano a mano with a super soldier. "My aunt's name is Margaret."

"The range," Steve repeats before nodding. And then there's a pause, as he hmms quietly, "The shooting range, right?" It is sixty years later. It's possible there are other ranges. Maybe. "I could go to the range. I haven't fired anythingn in," a very long time. What if he's rusty? Well that's a thought that hadn't occurred to him. He blinks at the name and sucks in a deep breath, "Margaret Carter?" he asks. "As in… Peggy Carter?" His cheeks flush again as he leans back in the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes track downwards as he sucks on the inside of his cheek. If anything Steve just got a lot more awkward. Like the gangly kid at the prom.

"Yes, the shooting range." Sharon gives a soft laugh. "And just so we're clear, we'll be shooting guns. We don't have ray guns or phasers or anything like that." With a tilt of her head, she nods. It has been awhile for him, true. She can't help but ask, "Was it just like you were sleeping? You went to sleep during World War II and then you woke up in 2013? You must have had some wacky dreams." When Captain America seems to know her aunt, the agent looks almost like a child opening a present on Christmas. "Yeah! Aunt Peg! You remember her?" This perks her right up. It was Peggy's stories that made her join SHIELD in the first place. "Wow, she'll never believe it. I used to ask her to tell me the story about storming the HYDRA base about a million times, but she didn't like to talk about it much. She only told it once or twice. Mom said she lost someone she cared about during the fight and didn't like to talk about it." This is a somewhat calculated statement, though it may not seem like it. There were those rumors, of course.

Despite his enhanced physical and mental capacity, Steve Rogers is still incredibly earnest. Consequently, his expression at the discussion of Peg turns bittersweet. Somewhere between happy and sad. His lips curl upwards only to falter some. When he finally speaks, it's not regarding Peg, it's about his long nap. "It's like no time passed. I was flying an aircraft and it crashed and then I was waking up in Fake York. I mean, the fake 1940s New York set up by your colleagues." He swallows hard. "It's… kind of like when you hit your head. You feel confused and fuzzy, but there's no space in between before and after you hit it." And finally he considers Peggy again. There's a sad edge to his smile, "I could never forget your aunt." It's strange to think of such a thing when, to Steve, he just saw her weeks ago despite it being sixty years. His lips press together into a thin line, "She is the strongest woman I've ever met."

"Yeah, for the record, that was not my idea." The fake New York set was blundered, she thought. Steve was going to have to be let out of that room eventually and the shock wouldn't have lessened just because he thought he woke up in the 40s. Even if he hadn't have broken out, the shock would only be put off. Instead, they should have put him in a safe room where he couldn't escape. Then, once they'd explained the situation, they could ease him into the 21st century. Of course, she was on her way home from an undercover mission, so her input was not requested.

Sharon simply nods when he explains that it was like being hit in the head. Hopefully it was being hit on the head without brain damage, but she's sure he was put through many physical tests to make sure he was okay. The emotion she sees in Steve's face is a bit too close for her liking and she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Sure, the main reason she's now escorting him around is due to her familial connection, but it's hard for her to see this man react to the loss of a life he could have spent with Peggy and not link it to the pain for her aunt must have felt as well. It's not exactly what she was expecting when she agreed to the assignment. "She certainly is something. Though, don't count out the rest of modern women just yet. They can vote and everything now." This is a joke, as the topic has gotten too serious for the agent.

He cracks a smile at the mention of voting and just shakes his head. "There was no question in my mind that women should vote." Despite the smile, the redness in the Cap's cheeks doesn't let up, prompting him to slide out of the booth back to the jukebox. Because right now it's the most interesting thing in the room. Clearly. Steve pushes another button, evidently choosing something else. This time the box begins playing the Lumineers. Prompting a half shrug. He could maybe live with this. When he comes back, he's got the blushing under control. He points with his thumb back towards the machine and shrugs, "I could live with this."

"Captain America: The Suffragette." That brings up a thought she's been harboring for awhile. "It's weird. I always thought you were kind of a Rosie Riveter. I knew you were a real person, but people made you out to be like a masthead. Everyone pinning ribbons on someone because it fit their agenda." In fact, though she loved her aunts stories as a kid, all the posters and collectible cards and war bond propaganda and hype soured her a bit. She couldn't help but think that underneath all that gloss he must have been an insufferable prig, or some poor schmuck who had no idea what he was doing. For the time being he seems like the latter. "Sorry. I'm done. It's just weird," she repeats. "Here I am, about to have a burger with Captain America." And she doesn't have to talk about her aunt any more - which is an added bonus. For both of them, perhaps.

Steve slides back into the booth and grins, "It's not like men were exactly winning the political game at the time — two world wars and widespread poverty aren't exactly selling features of a perfect system." He shrugs and then stifles a quiet chuckle, "They wanted me to be. A masthead, I mean. I was meant to be a symbol rather than a person." He shrugs as his gaze turns to the distance. "A science project rather than a fighter. When I turned into the latter, I think everyone was surprised." Not Steve. He's always been a fighter, even when he was too little to stand up to the big guy, he did. There's a slightly more nervous chuckle at the idea of having a burger with Captain America, but he says little to it. Celebrity isn't exactly something he'd envisioned for himself. He just wanted to help where he could. "You can call me Steve."

"Ah, that's right, you missed the whole Cold War American propaganda machine. I mean, I did, too, but, I learned about it in school. You were a paragon of American Values who hated Communists and wanted to help rout out the undercover Reds in our midsts." While Sharon doesn't mean him as Steve - obviously he was presumed dead in the war - but, like they both agreed - he was a masthead and they don't die just because the person behind them does. Her eyebrows furrow a bit. "I thought the whole point was that you were supposed to be the super soldier." She's only researched parts of the de-classified files and it made it seem like they always intended to have him be on the front lines. Of course, the victors write history. The edges of her lips tilt up. "Well, I guess if I insist on you calling me Sharon, I can call you Steve."

"Cold War American propoganda machine?" Steve raises an eyebrow. "I had no idea that I was a paragon of anything — " his smile fades, softening underneath the thought of it. "Except, you know, fighting for my country against the Nazis. That, I really was behind." The rest? Well he was 'dead'. Hard to support anything when 'dead'. "So… Cold War?" what is that about exactly?? "And I was a device to get more money for the war, not to fight in it. That was my own doing. I didn't like that my friends were dying and I wasn't doing anything except performing."

"Well, when you literally wrap yourself in the flag…" It's not that Sharon really blames Steve for what happened in his name. She's just calling him naive. "I guess politicians just thought you were dead and could use you for their own gain. It's the same as Reagan these days." She forgets that Steve will have no idea who Ronald Reagan is other than possibly a movie actor. "Anyway, the Cold War was a political battle fought between the Soviet Union and the US. It was mostly an economic battle because both countries had the Atomic bomb and no one wanted to use it on each other, thank God." With a shrug, she adds, "I'm not saying it was your doing. Just that it was done in your name. Your identity is 'Captain America' and that means different things throughout the years."

"They did that," comes Steve's response. "I just wanted to be able to go fight." And then, as if second nature, he tacks on, "I don't like bullies." Not that he minded terribly. "My shield though… well, that was unbelievably functional. Stark was bloody brilliant when it came to the shield." His lips hitch up on one side. "And I didn't label myself Captain America. That was all to get war bonds." He at least knows that much. "They didn't know what to do with me when — " he waves his hand. "It's a long story." And not that interesting. "I did get to the front line though."

What he doesn't get though is, "Was it a picture show then?" His head cants to the side. "Reagan is an actor right? Did politicians believe him dead and use him for gain?"

"I didn't mean…" Sharon realizes that she has once again gotten the Captain America she grew up with and Steve mixed up again. To her credit, it's mostly because they look identical. "Tony Stark?" The only Stark that Sharon knows is the one that's involved with Iron Man. She knows a little about the fact that his father was an inventor, but not his SHIELD involvement. "That can't be right." With a shrug of her shoulders, Sharon laughs. "No, uh, Reagan became the president in the 80s. He became a huge symbol of Republican values and certain economic values." This certainly is a strange world. With a shrug and a smile, she adds, "You wanted me to explain to you the history of the world from the 1940s to 2013 and you're saying you have a long story? Well, I never, Captain."

"No. Howard Stark," Steve clears his throat. "Brilliant man, certainly understood weapons in a way that most people don't." His lips twitch upwards, "I don't know this Tony — " he shrugs. "Not familiar," he shakes his head. "But Howard had a way about him. Cavalier almost. But I guess it worked for him, right?" The idea of Reagan as present causes Steve's eyes to squint. "Huh. Well, welcome to America where anyone can become president…" He sucks on the inside of his cheek at Sharon's sarcasm about the length of the story, "I think of this as a really really long debriefing. The whole not knowing what to do with me thing, well that's a story. And I'm not sure I'd do it justice anyways, ma'am."

"Tony Stark is Howard Stark's son. He's in charge of Stark Industries now - he's also Iron Man." With a laugh and a shake of her head, Sharon adds, " I guess it runs in the family. I've never met Tony Stark, but from what I've heard from other agents he's certainly cavalier." As for the debriefing, the woman shrugs her shoulders. "This isn't really a debriefing. I'm here until SHIELD is certain you're adjusted to modern times. I told them you probably just needed an internet connection, a cellphone and a few history textbooks, but I don't make the rules. So, you can direct any questions you may have my way and I'll make sure you don't accidentally order a hooker off of the internet or something."

"Iron Man?" Steve questions with the arch of his eyebrow. But he doesn't say anything more about that. "I think of it as a debrief," he shrugs. "And it seems like one of those things that is what you want or believe it to be." His face scrunches, "Intern-it? Cellphone?" it's like Sharon is speaking a different language. One that Steve doesn't speak. "Wait what? No interest in… that." He frowns, "Thanks. Even off the intern-it."

"Yeah. He wears a big metal suit, takes out terrorists." With a shrug, Sharon doesn't really think one way or another about Iron Man. He doesn't follow orders and isn't a team player - all things that can get good people killed. "That's fine. Sorry, this is the first time I've really dealt with a time traveler. I don't want to treat you differently, but then I forget that you don't know all these things." As for the frown, she gives him a smile. "That's why I said accidentally. Didn't think you'd want one."

"Well that's… special," comes the overtly optimistic, albeit moderately skeptical word Steve chooses when it comes to Iron Man. "So, if he gets separated from his suit, he has tactical training?" A single eyebrow arches. "And thanks. I appreciate that you didn't think I'd want that. Because" his eyebrows shift away, "I'm not interested in disrespecting— " his eyes track down as he exhales a very deep very audible breath. "So. Burgers? Milkshakes? Do they make a decent milkshake here?"

"No, no training. He's a mechanical genius, though, so who knows what he's capable of. I mean, if you're in New York long enough, you'll see him. He likes the attention." He's the direct opposite of SHIELD, who have labored in secrecy and not taking bows. Sharon gives Steve a grin as if she's teasing him. It's hard not to when he's so earnest and sweet and blushes when talking about hookers. "Please, I don't want to live in an America where Captain America wouldn't have fangirls just waiting to jump on him and he'd have to resort to hiring." As she already knows what she's ordering, she doesn't even pick up the menu. "I've never been here before, actually. But, a diner like this has to have burgers and milkshakes."

Steve's face flushes five shades of red. "I— I'm not— it's not— It wasn't like— " he stammers uncomfortably. He takes a deep breath and tries again, "Just because I don't need to hire— doesn't mean— it's not that I don't— it's just— " He swallows hard and then shakes his head, trying to erase this entire conversation, only to cut to the one detail that may explain away all of his awkward, "I've only had eyes for one woman in my lifetime." His lips part to say more, but he's pleasantly interrupted by a very pale waif looking waitress with dyed black hair. She's decked out in black from head to two, wears black lipstick, and has many piercings on her face. The apparition of a woman causes Steve to outright stare at her.

"Can I take your order?" she asks in a very prominent New York accent. Her hands fall to her hips and she arches a single eyebrow before turning to Sharon and asking, "What's wrong with him?"

For some reason, making Captain America blush gives Sharon great pleasure. The mention of her aunt - even without her name - is enough to stop the torment, though. For a moment, her expression turns serious, remembering the stories Aunt Peg would tell her about The Captain. It's only there for a flicker, however, because she quickly covers it up with another grin. "Lighten up, Steve. I'm only teasing. You're quintessential man of apple pie and baseball games." Though she didn't even really think about it, it's the first time she's used his first name. Deciding to take the lead, as he's dumbstruck at facial piercings, she orders for the both of them. "Two burgers - medium rare, please. I'll take mine with cheddar cheese. And two milkshakes. Mine'll be chocolate and I'm assuming his will be vanilla. Don't mind him. He's new here. Showing him the ropes." Raising an eyebrow at previously Mr. Polite, she whispers, "It's rude to stare."

"Right. I'm sorry ma'am— " Steve relays an apology onto the waitress. "— were you in an accident, or— " he shakes his head. Nevermind. Just leave it alone. And then, just before the waitress walks away, he adds, "I'll have cheese too please. Thank you." His eyes track down as she leaves. And then, after the waitress is gone, he addresses Sharon, "Was she in some kind of accident? I'm very concerned about her, maybe we should contact a physician— it looks like torture— " '

"They're just piercings." Sharon raises an eyebrow as she slips the plastic covered menus back onto holder by the wall. "Much like how someone pierces their ears. I'm sure it hurt a lot when she got them." Her eyes shift to their waitress in an amused way. "No need to worry about her. I'm sure she's fine. Physically, at least. It's just a fashion. Goth leanings, I guess. I'd put money on her having a vampire tattoo somewhere. It's how kids rebel nowadays."

"Really?" Steve asks incredulously. "People can get that pierced?" It's not like Steve has known anyone with anything but their earrings pierced. "Why does she dress like that?" Fashion is not likely something Sharon will be able to explain to his satisfaction, but he asks the question just the same. "And what are 'Goth leanings'? And vampire tattoos… is that… normal?"

"People can get a whole lot of things pierced." Sharon gives Steve an amused look, but shrugs her shoulders. "Why do you where a leather jacket and dockers? It's just what makes her comfortable." As for goth leanings, she takes in a sharp breath. "Oh boy, that's not exactly something I can probably explain during the course of a meal. And 'normal' is quite a loaded phrase. I figure, as long as she's happy and not hurting anyone, she's free to pierce whatever she wants and tattoo herself where ever."

"As long as she's actually alright then," comes Steve's earnest response followed by a shrug. He had actually been more concerned for her wellbeing than anything. He leans back in the bench and studies Sharon carefully before he hmms, "So. You don't have a lot of piercings. Meaning either it's not that common or your employer— our employer? Do I work for them?— doesn't allow it. I imagine they wouldn't be useful in combat…"

"Well, I don't know her, but she seems like she's alright." Sharon shrugs her own shoulders. She's not a psychologist and isn't about to armchair diagnose anyone's state of being without at least having eaten a burger yet. "It's not that it's common…I've just seen it before. And, well, I don't know if you work for them so much as they're looking out for you. As far as I know you haven't signed any sort of contract. There's not really a dress code, per say. Mostly just an unstated rule that if you're not properly attired Director Fury will glare at you with his good eye and then let Barton use you for increasingly elaborate games of William Tell."

Steve's eyes narrow at the comment about Barton. "Who?" he asks. "And that's like an apple on your head or something, right? It gets shot off, doesn't it?" He allows his chin to drop as he hmmms quietly. "Right. So they're 'looking out for me'." His eyes tick to the counter. "I suppose there's little use for an old fellow like me, right?"

A loud buzz emits from Steve's jacket pocket, prompting the Captain to nearly jump. He sheds his coat quickly, like it has some kind of disease, as the phone that one of the SHIELD agents had provided him continues to buzz mysteriously. Steve, however, has no idea what this trickery is. Poor Captain America.

"Clint Barton. He goes by Hawkeye. Best shot I've ever seen. I don't think I've ever seen him miss. But, he does need to practice. And, yes, William Tell is the man who shot an apple off of someone's head." Sharon nods her head. "I'm sure there is. There's always room for a hero or two at SHIELD." When the loud buzzing starts to emit from his pocket, she can't help but give a soft laugh. Pushing herself up onto the seat, she leans over the table and takes the leather jacket and fishes into the pocket until she finds the phone. Without asking if it would be okay, she answers it - who else would have Captain America's phone number other than SHIELD? "Sharon Carter."

"Hawkeye," he repeats quietly. "Sounds like a bird."

Steve openly stares at the technology he'd evidently been holding. How was he to know? His eyes narrow as Sharon answers what is presumably his phone. Not that he knew it was a phone. Captain America, brought down by a cell phone. How embarrassing.

"Hello, Agent Carter," comes the all-too-chipper bubbly voice on the other end. "Agent Barbara Morse here," the perky blonde identifies herself. "Did I dial wrong? I was trying to get ahold of Captain Rogers— " there's a pause, "Oh wait, you're with him, right?" And before getting a response she explains, "I'm on assignment in Russia— which is why I forgot about your assignment. It's early o'clock here." She pauses. "Anyways, we could use the Captain's help. And your own, if you're willing." There's a pause. "It's about Hydra— "

Putting a hand on the bottom part of the cellphone, Sharon nods and says softly, "That's what he was hoping for." Then, she puts up a finger to tell him that someone else is talking and gives him a smile of apology. She's kind of the type to do first and apologize later. "No no, Agent Morse. He just stepped away from the table and I recognized your number. Figured I'd take a message for him." No need to embarrass the poor man. Then, she nods and her eyes widen a bit. "Yeah, no, I'm sure he would be very interested in that. Why don't you tell me where in Russia you are. I'll talk to Mr. America and then find us a quick way to get us out there."

Steve's head lulls to the side as Sharon begins talking on his phone. That he doesn't know how to use. Oh well. His attention turns back to the jukebox. Maybe he can find something else worth listening to…

"We're just outside Volgograd. I'm not sure if you've heard about the incident yet. And I'm uncertain about the security of this line— " Bobbi explains hurriedly. "— but the investigative team has found some intriguing artifacts at the scene. We could use any expertise either of you could provide— " she takes a deep breath, realizing that Sharon doesn't know anything about what she's talking about. "Make your way to New York base. You can both be briefed and then use one of our aircraft to get to the area. It's… a sight to behold."

"I do love sights to beheld. I'll give you a ring once we're in Russian airspace. Thanks for the heads up." Without any other goodbye, Sharon hangs up the phone and hands it back to Steve. "Sorry about that. Let me show you how to use this thing. It's pretty easy - just takes a bit to get used to. That way you can answer it yourself." After a pause, she tilts her head just slightly and decides to slide into what she just heard. "So, remember when I was saying how there's totally room for you in SHIELD? Well, the phone gods agreed and now I'm going to ask you how you feel about Russia. There's been something possibly having to do with Hydra there. We should actually head back to the base to get briefed, if you're interested."

"Russia… as in the Reds?" Steve asks as he hmmms. The mention of Hydra, however, more than piques his interest. "If I can be of help… I'm not really sure what's going on overall though— " he motions towards the phone. "It's like another world." But Hydra he does know. Or did know? Ugh. Time. "You'd be coming, right?" His cheeks flush after the question, "I just don't really know what's going on— " and having an interpreter would be more than helpful.

"Ah, well, they're not really the Reds any more. The Soviet Union collapsed more than twenty years ago." More information to flood poor Steve's brain. But, on to the more important matters. "Agent Morse called you for a reason. If she thinks you would be helpful to the mission, she's not just doing it to make you feel useful - it's because she thinks you might know something." However, Sharon takes a bit of pity on him and gives him a reassuring smile. "And, yes, of course I'll come with you."

"Huh," Steve replies. It seems the world has changed a lot. He really will need a translator of sorts. And when Sharon agrees, he nods, "Alright. Then let's help them out. May as well be useful if we can be." He raises a hand towards the waitress, "Can we get the cheque please?"

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