oh, fitz. (
retravel) wrote in
meadowlarklogs2019-01-02 10:43 am
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Entry tags:
- dc comics: dick grayson,
- detroit become human: connor,
- detroit become human: markus,
- killjoys: john jaqobis,
- mcu: bobbi morse,
- mcu: daisy johnson,
- mcu: leo fitz,
- mcu: peggy carter,
- penny dreadful: vanessa ives,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the man from uncle: gaby teller,
- the man from uncle: illya kuryakin
I CAN'T IMAGINE THERE'S A WAY —
WHO: Fitz, SHIELD, and you!
WHERE: New Amsterdam's medium-est bar: Refraction
WHEN: 01 September
WHAT: Leo's turning31 100
NOTES OR WARNINGS: TBA
[ On his actual birthday, Fitz celebrates with his two closest friends (the people who’ve kept him together, despite wobbles along the way). Bobbi and Daisy, however, know that when Fitz says I hate people and don’t want to celebrate in the middle of a secret war he means I hate being alone, even on days without symbolic meaning. Daisy and Bobbi send out the mass evite, and Bobbi uses her powers of persuasion to find a more upscale venue for a discounted rate. Due to the flipped schedules in the height of New Amsterdam’s summer, Fitz’s party happens in the morning (the new night for anyone working a 9-5 gig), sun rising high over the city as it begins.
Welcome to REFRACTION, a classy bar tens of floors off the ground, with a stellar view of the city, not far from the river. Beams of light weave across the back area of the venue, well-lit by various glowing fixtures. Something about the place has an old world flair, with its dark colour scheme and minimalist decor. Maybe today’s an acceptable excuse to dress smart, celebrate with a friend, and drink up:
— enjoy the food (which might have had British roots at one point, but it’s hard to tell given the variety of fusions on display in bite-size portions) and initial round of free fizz, compliments of the host (and the host’s super stem friends)
— buy drinks at the bar and get wankered (as the birthday boy will be, around the new midnight)
— people watch from the tables and sofas
— dance to NA’s top synth pop hits (coming through hidden speakers above and holograms of the singers at some tables, activated by the proximity of nearby implant viewers)
— try a piece of cake, reading Happy 100th Birthday, Fitz! and looking a bit like it came from the same space-themed, child's birthday do as the evite. If your piece of cake has a wee star inside it, it means you’re one of the lucky winners and get a freebie at the bar.
As a nice establishment, rowdiness will only get you tossed on your arse by the bouncers, so everybody be cool.
At one point, someone nudges Fitz forward to say something. Dressed in his finest blues, he cuts a smarter figure than the usual corporate cut-out. ]
Right. [ said in the tight voice of someone who is definitely on the verge of crushing the flute in his hand. ] I never know what to say, and I didn't have time to prepare because, ah. Surprise. [ he splays out his free hand. ] So I will just say that — that there's someone I wish was here, despite all the horrible happenings, but that I am so so grateful that you're all here despite them, too. It's not for — forever, but it's pretty nice. Right now. [ As another SHIELD agent said: We have what we have when we have it. That's it. ] Thank you. Cheers!
( if you don't think the SHIELD losers would have invited your character, please feel free to come up with a semi-plausible reason for attending. gatecrashing, plus ones, hearing the commotion and wanting to be nosy. all are welcome! )
WHERE: New Amsterdam's medium-est bar: Refraction
WHEN: 01 September
WHAT: Leo's turning
NOTES OR WARNINGS: TBA
[ On his actual birthday, Fitz celebrates with his two closest friends (the people who’ve kept him together, despite wobbles along the way). Bobbi and Daisy, however, know that when Fitz says I hate people and don’t want to celebrate in the middle of a secret war he means I hate being alone, even on days without symbolic meaning. Daisy and Bobbi send out the mass evite, and Bobbi uses her powers of persuasion to find a more upscale venue for a discounted rate. Due to the flipped schedules in the height of New Amsterdam’s summer, Fitz’s party happens in the morning (the new night for anyone working a 9-5 gig), sun rising high over the city as it begins.
Welcome to REFRACTION, a classy bar tens of floors off the ground, with a stellar view of the city, not far from the river. Beams of light weave across the back area of the venue, well-lit by various glowing fixtures. Something about the place has an old world flair, with its dark colour scheme and minimalist decor. Maybe today’s an acceptable excuse to dress smart, celebrate with a friend, and drink up:
— enjoy the food (which might have had British roots at one point, but it’s hard to tell given the variety of fusions on display in bite-size portions) and initial round of free fizz, compliments of the host (and the host’s super stem friends)
— buy drinks at the bar and get wankered (as the birthday boy will be, around the new midnight)
— people watch from the tables and sofas
— dance to NA’s top synth pop hits (coming through hidden speakers above and holograms of the singers at some tables, activated by the proximity of nearby implant viewers)
— try a piece of cake, reading Happy 100th Birthday, Fitz! and looking a bit like it came from the same space-themed, child's birthday do as the evite. If your piece of cake has a wee star inside it, it means you’re one of the lucky winners and get a freebie at the bar.
As a nice establishment, rowdiness will only get you tossed on your arse by the bouncers, so everybody be cool.
At one point, someone nudges Fitz forward to say something. Dressed in his finest blues, he cuts a smarter figure than the usual corporate cut-out. ]
Right. [ said in the tight voice of someone who is definitely on the verge of crushing the flute in his hand. ] I never know what to say, and I didn't have time to prepare because, ah. Surprise. [ he splays out his free hand. ] So I will just say that — that there's someone I wish was here, despite all the horrible happenings, but that I am so so grateful that you're all here despite them, too. It's not for — forever, but it's pretty nice. Right now. [ As another SHIELD agent said: We have what we have when we have it. That's it. ] Thank you. Cheers!
( if you don't think the SHIELD losers would have invited your character, please feel free to come up with a semi-plausible reason for attending. gatecrashing, plus ones, hearing the commotion and wanting to be nosy. all are welcome! )
to the old geezer-
For once, he's actually dressed relatively smart, a rare occurrence outside of galas he's much happier not attending, but considering the location and the person in question, he'd figured he could make an exception.
The moment he'd arrived, he'd snagged himself a drink, taken a look around the venue- taken in the height of it and the classy decor, a sense of the other guests, taken a look at the truly amusing cake- loud and sporting the large number for an age, and then made a beeline directly for the birthday boy in question. He pops up behind him, a soft bump with his arm into Fitz' back, that gently becomes a lean- lasts long enough to transfer affection without the aid of the empathy bond, and then moves to stand beside him proper]
So, 100, huh?
[The grin slides onto his face, warm and teasing and something Fitz would have become familiar with enough to get the exasperation] You don't think the party's a little bit past your bedtime? If you want to sneak in a nap behind the bar, I promise I won't tell anyone.
no subject
No need to be a rocket scientist for Fitz to do the math: The odds are on Dick Grayson. Even before he looks up, his mouth quirks. ]
[ His counter comes fast. ] Give or take a few years.
[ He pulls a face, then, features scrunched (a bit bothered but more amused; Dick knows how he is). ]
Yeah, yeah, alright, I'll kip, [ jabbing at Dick's side with a pointed finger. ] while you run up my tab. [ an assured nod, paired with arched brows. ] C'mon, Grayson.
[ he knows u babe ]
no subject
[Who knows? It might even be better than the exploding ink mishap, that turned Fitz' face blue. And while this might be a joke amongst friends, exaggerating and uptick in age- Dick has seen enough of the weird things that can happen, that if even a modicum of it is true- than the last thing Dick wants to do is allow any actual curiosity into his tone. It isn't the sort of thing that sounds as if it'll be a happy story, and the last thing he wants to do is drag down the mood, on his birthday of all days.
But then Fitz pulls a face and it only makes Dick grin wider, skirting away from the finger for a moment, before Gitz can try and make another jab at his side. He may no longer be properly ticklish, too much scar tissue and deadened nerve endings for that, for the most part- but it doesn't mean he wants to encourage Fitz to try and find the parts of him that may respond] I have it on pretty good authority that the first drink is free.
[So what is he supposed to do when you're offering your tab up? And in the other instances he feels like running up his tab, instead of using his own credits- well- if Fitz really wanted to stop him, he could. Clearly, someone just likes to fuss, so Dick doesn't bother doing anything more but easing back into his space] I guess if running up your tab is out- I could just try and eat all your cake, instead?
[That better, honey?]
no subject
Carbonite, actually. [ joking except, ] Well, cryostasis, but the idea's the same.
[ Casual as anything, with a lift of his shoulders that might be a shrug. Sometimes, time travel means taking the long way around. And an unknown future is just one more place he’d go to reach Jemma and the others. That’s nothing. Who can say how long he was under before being plucked from the cosmos, anyway? Without his ancient watcher, Enoch, at his side, there’s no way of telling whether he was under for seven minutes or seventy-five years. A problem for when he returns to his home universe.
This time, he lets Dick ease into his space without retaliation, amusement tugging his mouth to one side. Yes, he loves a fuss. Easily a top five passion, actually, with science, snacks, football, and Jemma rounding out the other placements. ]
So, by all means, steal cake from an old man.
[ so old... so defenseless... wah wah. ]
no subject
[A gentle tease. He'd already stated that he thought Fitz was gorgeous on the network, and he'd certainly meant it, even if he wouldn't have said it quite like that, if he wasn't bothering Jason. But there's Fitz, and then there's the wonder that's Harrison Ford in a tight pair of pants and a square jawline. Fitz was warmer, softer- than the roguish attitude as well, and far more intelligent. But the comparison amuses him- because of course Star Wars is the place his mind would go] Isn't cryo supposed to be a little less...solid?
[It's not his area of expertise, and since Fitz clearly doesn't mind the questions- he doesn't mind asking them. Because the whys might be harder- but the science behind it, the- will you be alright on the other side- that's the core of what he wants to hear.
The amusement that tugs at Fitz' mouth, the fact that he lets him crowd him without further retaliation, stretches his own smile]
Is it still stealing if you gave me your permission? I think you kind of sucked all the fun out of the idea.
[So yeah, fits the old man attitude just fine]
gaia-approved wildcard: meet cute edition
he was going to place his with the rest, set it neatly on top of one with a flouncy bow and back off to let things pan out naturally with a beer or three. was being the operating word, tripping neatly over someone sinking low in their chair to stretch their legs from beneath a high cocktail table. it sends him straight into the thing, knocking it, jarring the presents and whatever empty glassware's been left alongside them, until what he's stuck doing is reorganizing.
all the while murmuring deceptively rude comments to himself, ears pink with an embarrassment unseen by anyone else.
almost.
running into dick wasn't in the stars, even if he's heard stories about him from the lab and caught up on his responses to others on past network posts. connor'll be glad enough for it, when his reflexes fail him in catching the last cup rocking on the edge of the table, reaching for it with a deep lean.)
the cutest meet
It's on his way there, that he has to pass by the gifts table, dodging stretched out feet or people dancing a little alarmingly close to the tables instead of where they were supposed to be- taking wide circles in their enjoyment of the alcohol. Still, he nearly walks by, when some of the gifts only jar, and then resettle. But he notcies, almost at the last moment, the glass that starts to tip.
He didn't, however, notice the hand reaching for it in a desperate lean, until he's already reached out quickly to push it back onto the table and hold it steady. It causes their hands to brush, enough to establish a brief link- surprise and contentment the most obvious things that filter through to Connor, before Dick is withdrawing is hand and setting the glass further up the table. It's a soft smile, he offers him, devoid of any amusement]
You okay?