I CAN'T IMAGINE THERE'S A WAY —

[retravel]

WHO: Fitz, SHIELD, and you!
WHERE: New Amsterdam's medium-est bar: Refraction
WHEN: 01 September
WHAT: Leo's turning 31 100
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! )

Comments

[retravel]

[ With Markus enraptured with the task at hand (ensuring the precise equality of the cake-consuming masses, our hero), Fitz deigns it his right, as the birthday boy, to sneak up on him. At least he waits for a moment of evaluation, where Markus eyes the pieces, over a dicier situation — and claps a hand on his friend's shoulder. ]

Oh, no, no, no. [ faux disappointment. ] You've cleaved Jupiter in two. That's hydrogen gas everywhere.

[ This is partly a nerd joke only for himself, oops. The point is: Don't stress as he's only taking the piss. He uses Markus' slightly bent posture as an opportunity to lean on him more. Few opportunities for that, when everyone's a bloody giant. ]

Sort me Mars, then. [ good-natured, but also, ] No halfsies. This is a showstopper, not a technical challenge.

[ What Brit would miss Bake Off... ]

[saviorexe]

[Just as he’s apparently split a planet in two — with such a purposeful cut that he clearly harbors no remorse about the action at all — so goes the state of his focus (pointedly deciding just what to do about Mars) when Fitz chimes in. The thought is put on pause, and the clasp on his shoulder earns his friend a sidelong glance with a lopsided smile to match.]

Maybe Jupiter shouldn’t have got in the way of my knife. Neither should any other wayward planet.

[Look, these pieces need to be even and the slices almost perfectly cut. Any icing-planet that dares stand in Markus' way? It shall feel this android's merciless, evenly-divvied out wrath.]

But... considering you're a century old today, it's a special occasion.

[Attention turning back to the cake, just long enough to partition out another piece, this time giving Mars a wide berth and allowing it to survive on the slice without so much a nick of the knife. (Mars. His almost namesake. How funny.) Markus moves it neatly to a plate, fork already settled on the side, straightening and offering it to his friend.]

So Mars it is.

[retravel]

Reckon we'll be reviewing your knife privileges shortly.

[ "We," as if he's on some sort of all-powerful board with knife-granting rights. Whatever. A grin blooms and widens, as he takes in Markus' dedication to the task (to the bit) and willingness to play along, dishing up a giant piece for the birthday boy. ]

Technically a century and a bit. [ waving his free hand. ] One, oh, four. [ He did the math 'cause of course he did. Bloody pedant. It's 104 now. He reaches for his plate. ] So, thanks for indulging an old man, Markus.

[ with these youths everywhere... ]

[saviorexe]

You can't steal my knife privileges from me, Fitz, not when you're taking advantage of them by making me cleave Mars away from the rest of the solar system.

["Cleave Mars away". The usual level of expected Markus verbosity.]

But it's the least I can do to indulge someone more than ninety years my senior.

[Ah, the androids. So young.]