|ɑgɛɳt ɱѳɓiuร (jetskiing) wrote in avengers_logs,|
@ 2021-08-05 14:33:00
|Entry tags:||-complete, mobius, sharon carter|
|Sharon read and re-read the conversation that she’d had with this Mobius fellow on the network. He seemed polite. Friendly, even. But he’d read her file from this… Time Variance Authority… and he knew things about her. Or claimed to, anyway. Sharon hadn’t decided what she was going to do in this reality, but she definitely didn’t want her hand forced by some friendly fellow with a little too much information. And she refused to be blackmailed.|
Coffee seemed like a good place to start. They could have a little conversation, and she could find out what he knew. Hopefully they could come to some kind of arrangement or agreement. Sharon didn’t want to get ahead of herself. Mobius probably didn’t have that information. The stuff she wanted kept hidden. ...did he?
This was the first time since she arrived that Sharon headed down to the first floor of the building. It was just as nice as the other floors: Tony Stark showing off his style and bank account balance. Back in her world she might have been irritated by it, but for some reason, she felt comforted. Some things never change. Once she hit the lobby she headed to the bakery, wondering if her credit cards still worked in this world, and keeping an eye out for Mobius.
Mobius was becoming pretty familiar with the Starbucks (green lettering, mermaid logo, slightly burnt yet tasty roast when it came to their coffee) in the Tower - he didn’t dare try to replicate the complicated order that Tony had given the first day they met, when Mobius had taken that trip from the Void back to the TVA to Ravonna’s floor to - here. A whirlwind. He’d settled slightly, beginning his job with SHIELD and carving out some kind of routine - his coffee order was a lot less complicated than the maelstrom of his thoughts.
Because, you know - figuring out your preferences from scratch, when you had that little thing called ‘choice,’ it could be daunting.
He started small. Decided he liked cold brew coffee, because for a city that never slept it seemed like this stuff was good at keeping the buzz going. It was smooth, creamy, a little bit sweet - though he always asked for a pump of toffee flavoring because only sociopaths drank their coffee black. When he got downstairs for the newest coffee (and pastry - he was definitely ordering a pastry) adventure he adjusted his tie, fingers fiddling with the knot for a second before he found Sharon.
“Welcome - hope the gunshot wound’s still healing nicely?” was his greeting.
At the sound of the voice, Sharon turned around to face him. She'd heard him coming across the lobby, but wanted to give him the opportunity to be the first to greet her. Well, this Mobius seemed like a charming man. How much did he know? If he knew about her, he certainly wasn't letting it color the way he treated her. At least, not yet.
"So far as I can tell," she responded with a smile. "Doctor Banner's going to check my stitches later. Thankfully it wasn't a serious wound." She was up on her feet only minutes after she'd been shot. And though it was in her abdomen, it was off to the side. Hadn't hit any major organs. Clean in, clean out.
"What's your poison?" she added, motioning toward the board over the registers that had all the different coffee drinks listed. "I've always thought the mochas at Starbucks were tasty."
Mobius couldn’t imagine being shot and then just getting up again to continue on with life - though sometimes, you did what you had to do. He was familiar with that part, at least. Being vaporized with a pruning stick had been no picnic either - to feel yourself basically disintegrating, coming apart at the seams; it lasted both an eternity and six seconds. And he’d gotten up right after too.
Sad thing was, that whole ‘life flashes before your eyes before you die’ thing didn’t really apply - he didn’t have a life to do any flashing.
“Badass,” he replied, giving Sharon a crooked smile. “I mean, that you’re here and ordering coffee. I’ve never had a mocha before, actually. I usually get the nitro cold brew but if you recommend a mocha, I’ll try one.” Anything with chocolate had to be good.
Hopefully Mobius would never have to learn what it felt like to be shot and then have to get back up and do some shooting. Sharon didn't like that that was her life, but it was what it was. She did what it took to survive. To thrive, even.
The badass comment surprised her, but Sharon smirked. "Well, if you've read my file, you should know that a little bullet isn't going to stop me. C'mon, I'm buying." She stepped forward to give the order--two double mochas--to the barista at the register. Then she paid using her credit card from the other world. Apparently, it still worked in this one.
“Should we sit?” She asked, turning her attention back to Mobius. “I have so many questions.”
“Right, yes - your file,” Mobius nodded and he supposed he should go over that. He’d brought it up, after all - and if they had coffee for this conversation, even better. “I hope to ease your mind a little.”
When their mochas were up (and he had one of those almond croissants, the kind with the marzipan paste inside that was heavenly), he nodded toward a lobby table that didn’t get much foot traffic. He sat, smoothing the lapels of his jacket before he placed the croissant on its waxy paper - though he didn’t gnaw a bite off right away. That was probably rude - talk first, desserts second. “The TVA had files on everyone and me, as an analyst, I studied those files - plenty of files, plenty of reels. It was all a part of monitoring the sacred timeline which turned out to be a bunch of bullshit in the end, but - I didn’t have a choice. I was brought to the TVA to do a job for them and they made sure I did it. Finally ended up breaking free, but - anyway, that’s not the point.”
He paused to take a sip of coffee, letting the liquid roll down his throat. “Point is - I’m not in the business of sharing anything in anyone’s file. It doesn’t matter what I think about anyone’s file. I’ve learned that people need to have room to make their own choices.” And their own mistakes - when they did make mistakes, they didn’t deserve a pruning stick or a reset charge for that either, a complete annihilation of everything they knew just because some jackass decided their lives weren’t important.
"I hope to have it eased," Sharon responded. Her voice was cautious but still pleasant. Afterall,
It didn't take long for their drinks and his croissant to be up on the bar. Sharon took hers with a smile and a thank you to the barista, then she turned to move with him to a table nearby. It was busy enough that they had some privacy, but not so busy that anyone would be smashed near them, eavesdropping.
Sharon listened carefully, her finger tugging idly at the edge of the sleeve around her disposable coffee cup. She felt nervous, and the wound in her side was smarting.
"But you know things. You know things about me and my life that could get me in trouble." It was more a question than a statement. She could tell that he knew--he was laying the hints down pretty thick. But she also got the feeling that she could trust him. Most of the time Sharon had good gut instincts about people. She could tell right away when someone could be trusted, or when to be suspicious. And he wasn't raising any of her red flags. So unless she was losing her touch... maybe she could trust him with her secrets.
“Possibly,” Mobius replied with an interested poke of brows upward as he lifted his coffee to take a sip. He knew damn well what Sharon was talking about - though, honestly, how could he judge her? She’d been branded a fugitive by the same system she once swore to uphold. She turned on that system after sticking her neck out for the good guys and being left behind in the darkness - and now she only cared about profit.
Mobius didn’t know her well - he hadn’t done an extensive psychological analysis on Sharon Carter like how he’d done on Loki. But he was an investigator, he was an interrogator, and he understood a thing or two about human nature.
He knew what happened when you were forced to survive, on your own, for years - how that could change a person. “I don’t really see a reason to get you into trouble though. Or bring trouble on myself - I think I have enough of that going on, being friends with Loki.” God, that was an understatement. He was still baffled about Loki having gotten married - pinning someone like him into holy matrimony was like trying to toss a bridle on a creature like Cthulhu and calling it a day.
His response gave Sharon something to consider, something to think about. She took a long moment, watching his face, trying to figure out if trusting him was the worst idea ever. After all, if what Sam and Tony were saying about their experiences in Madripoor and troubles with the Flagsmashers were any indication, they were starting up the trouble that Sharon had just ended. If they found out who the Power Broker was in this world, they would know who it was in their original world, too. And she couldn’t have that.
But then he said something that shocked her out of those thoughts. "You're friends with Loki? Loki. The God of Mischief?"
That was a completely fair and valid reaction to someone mentioning they were friends with Loki. Powder blue eyes twinkled a little in amusement - and, well, what could he say. Mobius was pretty fond of that trickster.
“He ended up in TVA headquarters - or, actually, a variant of him did. Variants are what happens when there’s a branch off the sacred timeline - they’re often brought to the TVA and it’s determined what becomes of them,” he said, finally ripping off a piece of croissant to pop into his mouth. Some variants were pruned, others were molded into workaholic agents (like yours truly, for example) or baton-wielding security. “It was a pretty crazy adventure, but yes, we ended up as friends. Not opposed to making other friends though,” he added, with a glance at Sharon. Even crime lords giving the finger to The Establishment (he respected that, really, he did) needed friends?
"Huh." Sharon listened to him as he explained about variants and his friendship with Loki. There was certainly more to this Mobius character than he let on--she could respect that. She, too, played her cards close to her chest. And Sharon decided that she wanted him on her side. It was now her goal to become friends with Mobius, and have him as an ally. Of course, due to his knowing her secrets, it was in her best interest to do so... but she was sure she could convince him that it was in his best interest, too.
She broke into a smile at that. A warm smile. A genuine smile. "I could definitely use more friends here. And we'll be working together at SHIELD, so I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other. Maybe we can make these coffees together a regular thing."
“Yeah, I’d like that,” Mobius agreed right away. “Coffee’s a vice and - you know. We can look out for each other too. I don’t know about you, but I sometimes forget to eat lunch because of being waist-deep in work.” And that wasn’t good - it was important to take care of one’s self, especially here. Where he viewed it as kind of like a second chance.
He was still debating about whether or not he wanted to know about his old life - did it really matter? But that was a philosophical question for another time. He’d prefer to focus on the present, and not get caught up in what the past could possibly entail; the present was indeed more pressing, like how if he revealed Sharon’s secret she’d shoot him in the balls, most likely.
Apparently he got along well with the ‘step on me, I’d like it’ variety of ladies.
Sharon nodded. "Coffee is absolutely wonderful, but doesn't have enough nutrients to sustain a person through the day. Sometimes I'll find myself irritated by everything in the afternoon and realize that I haven't had anything besides coffee all day." She shrugged sheepishly, then lifted the mocha to sip. (Now that she was more confident that he was trustworthy, she could actually enjoy her sweet coffee.)
"What are you working on at SHIELD?" She added, making conversation. Now that her most pressing issue was seemingly resolved, she could seek a little more information. "I'm gonna give my wound a few more days to heal, but then I'm ready to get back to work."
Mobius was in the same boat - he wasn’t sure what the extent of the TVA’s influence was, but since their headquarters existed outside of time and space and seemed to follow its own rules, the human worker bees within didn’t often fall prey to those very human needs. Food and sleep, mostly. Sex (unless other analysts were defiling each other behind filing cabinets). Socialization (though the cafeteria was a poor excuse to try to satisfy the ‘food’ and ‘socialization’ aspects - hardly anyone was ever in it having fun). They were drones, nothing more.
Well. That was a depress-o train of thought that he’d like to get off of, thanks. “Alright, so my first order of friendly reminder business - once you finish that,” he motioned to Sharon’s coffee, “...you’re gonna go up to your apartment and rest because gunshot wound.” That spoke for itself, didn’t it? He wasn’t trying to be pushy but holy hell.
“And I’m mainly working on research projects - analyzing gathered data on all sorts of topics. A lot of it has to do with this universe too - I think once I get all my tech charged, I can help figure some stuff out about the mechanics of everything.”
Sharon almost rolled her eyes at that. If only he knew the kind of injuries she'd had and then kept right on going. ...well, actually, he may very well have known those things. She did appreciate the reminder, though she was planning on heading straight up to the Clinic to have Dr. Banner check the stitches. They were angry and red, and ached something awful. It wasn't like she'd had them done in a hospital by a medical professional, afterall.
"I promise I'll rest. Once I have Dr. Banner check my stitches, I'll take the opportunity to lay around in bed all day watching Netflix. --you have Netflix here, right? Because I didn't get to finish Bridgerton and I have to know who Lady Whistledown is."
She gave a quick nod. Somehow, she imagined that her position in this reality's version of SHIELD would be a little less... paper-pushery. But she absolutely understood and appreciated the importance of people who were good at analyzing data. And the tech stuff was equally important if they were ever going to get any answers about all of this. "You'll keep me in the loop, will you? If you figure anything out?"
“Netflix,” Mobius replied, clearly approving, and toasted with his coffee cup. “Pretty sure we have that, yeah. I won’t spoil it for you.” He was glad to hear that Sharon would go get her stitches looked at and do some resting, however - otherwise that was liable to lead to a nasty infection and then the problems would just get worse.
He dusted leftover croissant crumbs off of his fingers, feeling a pleasurable sugar buzz begin to work its way through his system - because marzipan paste was no joke, and ultimately, he was glad that the Tower had a gym because he was liable to catch up with eating good food and gain a thousand pounds or so. The Tower had everything and he had a decent job - working for SHIELD would prove to be far better than being brainwashed; here, he could actually try to do some good. “Promise you’ll be right there in the loop,” he assured, and held out his hand. “Shake on it?”
Sharon grinned, both happy that she could lounge around and watch Netflix for a few days on her own, and glad that she didn't have to worry about spoilers from Mobius. "You know, I thought you were a good guy--you certainly seem trustworthy. But when you promise not to spoil television shows it proves it."
And she reached forward with her hand to shake his, lifting the other to hold up three fingers together. "Scout's Honor."