[ that eve, well, morning, given the upside down schedules, bobbi and daisy both receive a message, its meaning coded months earlier. ]
Hey, things are topsy-turvy at the office. I'll be working from home tonight.
[ An incident has occurred and may find its way to their home, so watch for lurkers and intruders alike. Not an emergency, when they have a separate phrase for that, but it's — it has the potential to turn sour; that's all. ]
The pop-up market between our offices. The square off 63rd Street. East entrance. 13.30, if that works.
[ fitz will wait on a bench there, under the twinkling fairy lights (a range of colours, blues and pinks). the market has strung across its entryway to compensate for operating in darkness. he looks no worse for wear since she last saw him, the collar of his dark button-down crisp as ever. funnily enough, dick staying over meant he actually slept for once, so he's not even over-tired. ]
[ and she is, spotting him where he sits and giving him a professional once-over before approaching. no visible injuries, no noticeable tension in his shoulders or jaw. no dark circles under his eyes, either. ]
[ as soon as she sits, he bumps their shoulders, at once both amiable and reassuring. ]
Sorry if I worried you. [ his mouth twists downward, apologetic. ] Wanted to play it safe. [ dragging a finger across his jaw. ] Still want to, though I reckon we're likely in the clear.
[ a tip of his head this and that, unsure if that's true. ] Walk and talk?
[ the noise of the market should shield their conversation. ]
[ the bump of his shoulder against hers, amiable and easy, is further reassurance that her visual assessment of the situation was correct. his apology is waved away with a smile.
she doesn't know what's going on yet, but —yeah, she figures no one will overhear their conversation as they walk, unless someone's placed them under real surveillance. ]
Sounds good. I do need to find something for lunch. [ for real. ]
[ fitz eases to his feet then, turning on his heel into the twinkling market, hands slipping into the pockets of his linen trousers. ]
Dick, uh, he came over last night. [ a little duck of his head. not an unusual occurrence, mind you, since fitz first mentioned him, but it's normally in the hours immediately following the end of the workday. their shared walk home from volt taking them to the shield flat to tinker with ongoing projects, electrifying bobbi's staves and building dick's escrima sticks. ] He was roughed up. Not too badly, but. Someone [ sharp-edged, that. ] got the jump on him.
[ fitz won't overstep and investigate, when he knows dick is capable on his own, but if he grabbed hold of the person who hurt his friend — a vindictive urge flares, kindled by his time as a man for whom an eye for an eye was the start, not the end, of a retaliation. his only tells are a clench of his jaw and one hand rising to slip two fingers into his collar and straighten it. whoever hurt dick shouldn't have been able to do that, not easily, though fitz holds back that assessment. true to his word, he hasn't mentioned dick's adventurous hobbies (like, y'know, vigilantism), but bobbi has no doubt picked up on his association with hafid and malone, two of the most overtly suspicious people among the multiversal anomalies. ]
[ dick came over last night, huh? with anyone else, bobbi would assume this story is going to take a very different turn than it is going to take, what with the little duck of fitz's head and all.
but she knows better. ]
How bad? [ first thing's first. she's assuming it wasn't too bad, or fitz would have asked for help. ]
[ he and dick have fallen into a closeness that surprises people — including himself. not since mack edged his way into fitz's labstation has someone managed to slip past the walls built in the wake of the framework. and so quickly, too, a reassuring and steady presence in his life, pulling him away from the rim of jagged ledge (like markus and bobbi both), where he's like to fall at any moment.
so worry shows in the lines of his face, despite his measured assessment. ]
Standard contusions after a close-combat run-in. Minor injuries. Nothing broken. I even checked his ribs. [ shaking his head. ] Just bruised. Think there were others with him. Back-up. But they split up, and when he got to our flat, he seemed — rattled, underneath the skin.
[ The bond reveals all, as ever. Fitz means to imply didn't push because it would be unfair to do so. ]
He said he didn't think he was followed. [ a noise, caught somewhere between exasperated and frustrated. ] Came in through the bloody window, anyway.
[ while injured!! stupid!! it does decrease the chances of a tail on foot, of course, although the digital trail is what concerns him. ]
[ fitz cares so deeply. it's something bobbi's always liked about him. he cares oh so deeply, and if she hadn't met dick, if she hadn't spoken to him herself, she'd be worried about how quickly dick and fitz have fallen into closeness, how close they've grown —but dick grayson is good people.
(like mack.) ]
Can't fault his instincts. [ coming in through the window, that sort of thing. if that's his instinct, bobbi figures it can't be much more difficult for him than coming in through the front door. ]
[ fitz pauses their walk to eye a nearby stall, noodle-based fusion fare of some sort, and joins the queue a moment later. ]
If he did, he knows better than to share that information.
[ with someone inclined to chase that lead with or without him. fitz is now known for his dogged pursuit of answers, after becoming the spokesperson for various strands of the displaced's investigation. ]
[ bobbi joins him in the queue with a brief nod, an incline of her head and a lift of her shoulders that say "why not?". noodle-based fusion fare. it smells good, at any rate.
(what are the odds that the noodles are made on insect-basis?) ]
a blink and Fitz orders his food, waiting for it to be made, and his number to be called. ]
Wouldn't put it past him. And it's not as if I strike people as field-trained.
[ even though Bobbi helped him belatedly pass the test herself, and he now has an alternate life of more brutal work on under his belt — plus doing nothing but reading and exercising in prison for six months. despite all that, he's the nerd monkey. even people he likes underestimate him, and that works out just fine. ]
[ it's a factual statement, no judgment contained in it —though bobbi, given what she remembers, doesn't know that she helped him pass the test. she's noticed some differences in his stance, in how he holds himself, and she has everything he's told her to go off.
still, she figures she's well-enough equipped to judge whether he comes across as field-trained. ]
And he seems like the type. [ to care about protecting people. ]
that should probably go without saying, but here she is, saying it regardless. then, a little softer in tone, not in volume: ] He also seems like the type that can generally handle himself.
People have splintered off into factions, haven't they? That might be for the best.
[ too central an operation, and it puts everyone at risk. SHEILD segments intel and teams, as does Morningstar. can't make them easy to wipe out in one go, yeah? ]
[ yes, they've splintered off. no, they haven't: there's still a common goal and they have the common network. yes, it's a good thing and it'll keep them from being wiped out in one go. no, it isn't: it'll make them easier to hunt down, too, if that happens. there is strength in numbers. ]
Guess it's normal. The higher the numbers climb, the less centralised it's going to be. But there's definitely groups. [ the three brothers. the three shield agents. ]
That's good. Small teams is better, provided we can maintain a flow of information.
[ through the secure server. smaller groups appeal to him for the same reasons that bobbi thinks. that's the compromise: strength in numbers, just not too big a number. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@leo.fitz / ic august 20.
Hey, things are topsy-turvy at the office. I'll be working from home tonight.
[ An incident has occurred and may find its way to their home, so watch for lurkers and intruders alike. Not an emergency, when they have a separate phrase for that, but it's — it has the potential to turn sour; that's all. ]
Let's postpone dinner until tomorrow.
[ He'll explain later. Promise. ]
no subject
sure thing
let me know if i should bring anything on the way home
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[ then, the next morning. ]
Actually, are you free for lunch?
[ lunch in TOTAL DARKNESS because fuck new amsterdam's heatwave and upside down schedules. ]
no subject
yeah, definitely
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[ fitz will wait on a bench there, under the twinkling fairy lights (a range of colours, blues and pinks). the market has strung across its entryway to compensate for operating in darkness. he looks no worse for wear since she last saw him, the collar of his dark button-down crisp as ever. funnily enough, dick staying over meant he actually slept for once, so he's not even over-tired. ]
no subject
[ and she is, spotting him where he sits and giving him a professional once-over before approaching. no visible injuries, no noticeable tension in his shoulders or jaw. no dark circles under his eyes, either. ]
Hey. [ she sits down next to him. ]
no subject
Sorry if I worried you. [ his mouth twists downward, apologetic. ] Wanted to play it safe. [ dragging a finger across his jaw. ] Still want to, though I reckon we're likely in the clear.
[ a tip of his head this and that, unsure if that's true. ] Walk and talk?
[ the noise of the market should shield their conversation. ]
no subject
she doesn't know what's going on yet, but —yeah, she figures no one will overhear their conversation as they walk, unless someone's placed them under real surveillance. ]
Sounds good. I do need to find something for lunch. [ for real. ]
no subject
[ fitz eases to his feet then, turning on his heel into the twinkling market, hands slipping into the pockets of his linen trousers. ]
Dick, uh, he came over last night. [ a little duck of his head. not an unusual occurrence, mind you, since fitz first mentioned him, but it's normally in the hours immediately following the end of the workday. their shared walk home from volt taking them to the shield flat to tinker with ongoing projects, electrifying bobbi's staves and building dick's escrima sticks. ] He was roughed up. Not too badly, but. Someone [ sharp-edged, that. ] got the jump on him.
[ fitz won't overstep and investigate, when he knows dick is capable on his own, but if he grabbed hold of the person who hurt his friend — a vindictive urge flares, kindled by his time as a man for whom an eye for an eye was the start, not the end, of a retaliation. his only tells are a clench of his jaw and one hand rising to slip two fingers into his collar and straighten it. whoever hurt dick shouldn't have been able to do that, not easily, though fitz holds back that assessment. true to his word, he hasn't mentioned dick's adventurous hobbies (like, y'know, vigilantism), but bobbi has no doubt picked up on his association with hafid and malone, two of the most overtly suspicious people among the multiversal anomalies. ]
no subject
[ dick came over last night, huh? with anyone else, bobbi would assume this story is going to take a very different turn than it is going to take, what with the little duck of fitz's head and all.
but she knows better. ]
How bad? [ first thing's first. she's assuming it wasn't too bad, or fitz would have asked for help. ]
no subject
so worry shows in the lines of his face, despite his measured assessment. ]
Standard contusions after a close-combat run-in. Minor injuries. Nothing broken. I even checked his ribs. [ shaking his head. ] Just bruised. Think there were others with him. Back-up. But they split up, and when he got to our flat, he seemed — rattled, underneath the skin.
[ The bond reveals all, as ever. Fitz means to imply didn't push because it would be unfair to do so. ]
He said he didn't think he was followed. [ a noise, caught somewhere between exasperated and frustrated. ] Came in through the bloody window, anyway.
[ while injured!! stupid!! it does decrease the chances of a tail on foot, of course, although the digital trail is what concerns him. ]
no subject
(like mack.) ]
Can't fault his instincts. [ coming in through the window, that sort of thing. if that's his instinct, bobbi figures it can't be much more difficult for him than coming in through the front door. ]
Did he get a good look at his attackers?
no subject
If he did, he knows better than to share that information.
[ with someone inclined to chase that lead with or without him. fitz is now known for his dogged pursuit of answers, after becoming the spokesperson for various strands of the displaced's investigation. ]
no subject
(what are the odds that the noodles are made on insect-basis?) ]
You think he's trying to protect you?
no subject
a blink and Fitz orders his food, waiting for it to be made, and his number to be called. ]
Wouldn't put it past him. And it's not as if I strike people as field-trained.
[ even though Bobbi helped him belatedly pass the test herself, and he now has an alternate life of more brutal work on under his belt — plus doing nothing but reading and exercising in prison for six months. despite all that, he's the nerd monkey. even people he likes underestimate him, and that works out just fine. ]
no subject
[ it's a factual statement, no judgment contained in it —though bobbi, given what she remembers, doesn't know that she helped him pass the test. she's noticed some differences in his stance, in how he holds himself, and she has everything he's told her to go off.
still, she figures she's well-enough equipped to judge whether he comes across as field-trained. ]
And he seems like the type. [ to care about protecting people. ]
no subject
[ softer. ] Yeah, he does.
[ the protective type, like mack, like plenty of their team (their family). ]
Might just have to wait and see if he, or anyone else, shares more.
no subject
that should probably go without saying, but here she is, saying it regardless. then, a little softer in tone, not in volume: ] He also seems like the type that can generally handle himself.
no subject
[ His food arrives, then, and he scoops it up eagerly, despite his downturned expression. ]
[ in the tone of one of his typical dour spells: ] None of us can handle ourselves here, Kat.
[ the nickname feels more like bobbi than katelin, so he prefers it, when they're maintaining her cover in public. ]
i sure did forget a word in that last tag??
No man is an island. [ no woman, either. she knows. ] But I think some of the people here are better at it than others.
[ herself included, but she won't say as much in public. ]
I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE WOW sad highfive
[ digging in. ]
People have splintered off into factions, haven't they? That might be for the best.
[ too central an operation, and it puts everyone at risk. SHEILD segments intel and teams, as does Morningstar. can't make them easy to wipe out in one go, yeah? ]
let's pretend it all made sense
[ yes, they've splintered off. no, they haven't: there's still a common goal and they have the common network. yes, it's a good thing and it'll keep them from being wiped out in one go. no, it isn't: it'll make them easier to hunt down, too, if that happens. there is strength in numbers. ]
Guess it's normal. The higher the numbers climb, the less centralised it's going to be. But there's definitely groups. [ the three brothers. the three shield agents. ]
easy peasy
[ through the secure server. smaller groups appeal to him for the same reasons that bobbi thinks. that's the compromise: strength in numbers, just not too big a number. ]
Doubt anyone could wrangle the lot of us, anyway.
[ bless gaby for even bothering with them... ]
ty
It's the flow of information I'm worried about.
no subject
[ a generous helping of his food pauses further inquiries. ]
You think people aren't feeding back?
[ an casual question, despite the loaded implcations. ]
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