Tethers
Roleplaying Log: Tethers
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

Rocket and Michael talk registration and the state of SHIELD

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: February 02, 2019
IC Location: The Other Bean - Across from the Triskelion
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 03 Feb 2019 15:26
Rating & Warnings:
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

It's a well-known fact that spies run on caffeine. So despite the fact that the Triskelion cafeteria serves coffee (if you can call it that) the nearby coffee shops are often populated with suits. The Other Bean Coffee is one of those places. It's pretty nondescript, but the service is fast and there's plenty of seating. Michael Carter is wearing a three piece oxblood suit with an understated blue tie with a faint check. Nearly everyone around him is staring at a device, but he's reading a physical paper. His legs are crossed. His socks, coincidentally, have raccoons on them.

* * *

The door swings open, but a glance in that direction would reveal no one passing through them, at least if the bottom half of the door were obscured from one's vision. Someone pulls a chair over to the counter, and finally said someone clambers on up so he can look over the counter at the barista, grumbling all the while. A someone who bears all too much a striking resemblance to the creatures embroidered on Michael's socks.

Rocket's no new face in the area, and certainly not in Triskelion. Even though he spends less and less time there these days, he and his associates are of quite the memorable sort. The small Guardian wears a dark blue down jacket over his usual black, gray and blue outfit. He's brought with him a duffle bag that's half as big as him in length, but it sits at the foot of the chair while he fumbles around his pockets, squinting over at the drink board.

"I've been here how many times and I still don't know what half'a these are, 'cept with more stuff in it and even more expensive," he says in response to the barista cautiously asking what he'd like.

* * *

The top of Michael's paper flips down when he hears the sound of a chair being dragged. An eyebrow raises. More of the paper is folded down. And then when Rocket clambers up, he makes a soft sound of recognition. Ah yes. But wait, is he? He looks down at his socks, up at the alien, then grins a little. Sometimes the world throws out entertaining coincidences.

"I recommend the chai latte," says the blonde agent from his table nearby.

* * *

"Chai?"

Rocket's glanced over at the offer of recommendation, his small face skewed in an uncertain manner of expression. Something of recognition seems to click in the raccoonoid's own mind as the uncertainty just shifts into something slightly less so. He strokes his furry chin with a clawed hand as he turns his attention back to the board.

"Okay fine. Let's go with that then," he says, if somewhat begrudgingly. Truth be told he'd prefer harder drinks, but it's chilly out, and he's determined to learn what Terrans find so great about these overpriced bean water places.

He digs out a few crumpled bills and some loose change after he complains again about prices. Then he hops back down and noisily shoves the chair back to its place before going to claim his bag. Of course he invites himself over to Michael's table, setting the bag down beneath it with a heavy thud before settling into the empty seat.

* * *

"You do work for SHIELD, don't you?" says Michael, apparently not overly phased by Rocket's self-invite or his appearance. Instead, he just flips his paper down and tosses it onto the table. He looks like a man out of time, from his posture, to his suit, to the neat swoop of his hair, to the particular upper-crustiness of his accent. "Though I suppose that could be said of nearly everyone in this place." He's not, stereotypically, sipping tea. It looks to be black coffee.

* * *

A corner of the alien's mouth tugs up in the semblance of a smirk. "Eh," Rocket replies with a shrug. "Sorta. More like ah… external resources? That a thing?" Technically they'd been 'hired' early on as freelance while Agent Phil Coulson had taken on their Terran probation. With the registration crap going on? Rocket knew they couldn't just disappear, not with the impressions they've made, but they've been working on quietly snipping legal ties. But Rocket wasn't against working with them still if there was something good in it for him.

"Glad to see yer head's back on straight," he says, given the man's out here enjoying himself than locked up somewhere. He looks up when his drink's brought over and set in front of him, which he gives a scrutinizing appraisal. Sniffing it, he picks it up for a careful sip.

* * *

"A regrettable incident." Where he lost his shit and killed SHIELD agents? That's one way to put it. But the English are prone to understatement. Michael picks up his own cup and gives it a sip. "Though I did become quite acquainted with a SHIELD cell for a bit. Due diligence and all that." He watches Rocket sip the Chai, a curious expression on his face.

* * *

"Regrettable. Yeah. Let's go with that," Rocket says, chuckling dryly as he nods and sits back a bit in his seat. He smacks his mouth a bit after his first sip, then second sip of his drink, like he's still trying to figure out if he likes it or not.

"Guess this ain't too bad," he finally admits. "Might be more Groot's taste. He's the one with the sweettooth."

* * *

"It's not supposed to be overly sweet. Good chai is actually quite spicy." Ah, there goes the British tea snobbery. Michael glances around, then glances back to Rocket, realizing what odd tablemates they make. "I'd imagine this registration business is a bit tougher for you than some of the others." There's no denying he should be registered, after all.

* * *

Rocket has another, longer drink. "Mm…I can kinda get that, yeah. Not sayin' I'm some kinda connoisseur for this sorta stuff though. I'd rather be at a bar." He grins a bit at that. "Least this is hot."

He's gotten well past being self-conscious about sticking out in this world. That's not to say that sometimes he tries to be more careful than others, but there are more times than not that he just stops caring and figures people should deal.

Another shrug follows Michael's observation. "I guess. Stupid stuff, really. Way to make us feel welcome." He snorts.

* * *

"You do know they make hot, boozy drinks, yes? Just ask for Irish Coffee. Well, not here," Michael glances around again. Even in a casual coffee shop, there's a bit of a crackle of tension in the air. Everyone is sort of side-eyeing one another. "In my experience, hospitality only extends as long as people aren't irrationally afraid. And periods of humans not being afraid of one another are sadly brief."

* * *

The Guardian laughs. "Well yeah, I figured that much. Didn't look like the place for it." He knew he should've brought his own to spike his coffee, but he makes a mental note to try this Irish Coffee thing sometime.

Thoughtfully taking another pull from his mug, Rocket considers what's said, nodding. "No kiddin'. I ain't even from here and it's pretty obvious, but then it's more of a natural thing to expect than otherwise. So long as there's a reason for people to fear…" He shakes his head, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand. "Plenty of people to worry about who don't got some weird abilities. I don't see how this whole deal's gonna change a whole lot, except make things more messy."

* * *

"It's a foolish exercise and doomed to fail. But sometimes the only way to prove that is to let it fail. Unfortunately a lot of people tend to get hurt in the process." Michael definitely sounds like he's lived through something like this before. And he has - several times in fact. A side-effect of seeing as much history as he has. He sets his cup down and then asks, "What will you do? You aren't quite as beholden to this place as some of us are."

* * *

"See, it's a nice reminder to know that at least not all Terrans are out of their minds." Rocket grins, if briefly, because it's true enough what Michael says about the matter. Things'll get bad before (if) they get better, and a potential fallout from something like this doesn't exactly promise to be resolved quietly nor peacefully.

His drink's reached a more palatable temperature, so he finishes off the rest of the contents of his mug in big gulps. Breathing out a sigh as he sits back in his chair again, the raccoonoid shrugs. "Ain't that the question though. For starters, we'll be makin' ourselves scarce. I mean, there ain't anything tethering us to this world or SHIELD, but what can I say? Terra kinda grows on you." They'd made a lot of interesting friends and acquaintances, and Peter Quill hadn't been back to his homeworld in years that it couldn't hurt to stick around and let him enjoy it some. Not that Rocket would say that.

* * *

"I recommend anyone who doesn't have to be tethered to SHIELD," like loyal brothers on the behest of a stubborn sister, "…to remove themselves for the time being." Michael pauses with his mug almost to his lips. "…unofficially, that's my advice. Officially, well, we have to all follow the law, don't we?"

He arches a brow, then takes a long breath. "It's going to be difficult for everyone involved not to pick sides. And no good ever happens when people are polarized."

* * *

Rocket raises his empty mug as though in toast to the man at his words. "Good advice." His smirk reappears, but that's all he offers on that part. He doesn't feel the need to impart that they've already started to do so, and that they had someone high up on the inside to help smooth things over. Hopefully, anyway.

"Weeeell…." he tempers as Michael speaks of following laws. The Guardians haven't exactly been renowned for that.

He puts the empty mug down on the table as he rests an elbow at its edge. "Ain't gonna get any easier in general, that's for sure." He sniffs. "So what's your play? You bein' around still I'm figuring your with SHIELD…" But given the man's earlier opinions, just because you were with didn't mean you agreed.

* * *

"Oh, I am well and truly tethered to SHIELD. I will follow the party line for the time being. But following the line and agreeing with the higher ups do not have to go together." It is, after all, what a soldier does - follow orders, despite personal feelings. Michael finishes the rest of his coffee, then nudges the cup away. "If for no other reason than the organization needs people on the inside who wish to keep the peace."

* * *

The response is expected, even for how briefly Rocket's gotten to know the man a little better. He nods, smiling lazily at Michael. "Better you than me." Because Rocket nor the Guardians have ever been synonymous with peace and keeping it.

* * *

Michael Carter may be an unpredictable man in some senses, but his politics are relatively straightforward. Queen and Country first, rule of law second - even if keeping either of those means that he has to do things he doesn't like, or that he, personally needs to break said laws. "Indeed. Well, I'm rather less conspicuous." Except for the flashy suits that he tends to favour. "There is an old curse: may you live in interesting times. I daresay we've all been hit with that particular curse and are doomed to live under it for some time."

* * *

Rocket laughs harshly at that. Well, both points, really. He's certainly not going to deny his being conspicuous. He has a flargin' tail and fur, for crying out loud!

But this so-called curse certainly fits the bill, even though the Guardian wouldn't restrict it to this place nor setting. He grins sharply, moving to hop down from his chair and grab up the strap of his duffle bag. "Curse or no, least it won't be boring." To Rocket, that would seem more the curse than times being 'interesting.'

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