[center][img]http://www.baku-panda.org/bounce/logan+tag.png[/img]
[color=gray]"[b]From Qurac With Love[/b]"  Part 2[/color][/center]
[b]U.S.S. CHESAPEAKE[/b]
[color=lime]Luxor-class Helicarrier
Somewhere over the Atlantic[/color]

A fog of solid white rolled off the carrier deck, revealing a pristine sky of blue and an endless horizon as the winds cleared away the clouds from the massive ship moving over the ocean below. Her image reflected in the glass, Rita Farr lookout out and could only sum up what she saw in one word. "Unbelievable."

"I know, right?"

The voice, behind her, caused an involuntary shudder even before Steve Dayton could continue. "I mean, where the hell is that intern with my coffee?" Steve Dayton demanded, as the man stood in the center of a military plot and map room in his Armani finest.

Turning, the brunette starlet hesitated a moment before she finally spoke. "Speaking of, Steve..."

"What?"

The response had come so quick that he'd interrupted her. Starting again, Rita tried, "Steve..."

"What, Rita!? God!"

Now they were just talking over each other. Shoulder slumping, the woman gave a heavy sigh. "Steve, why is Garfield here?" she demanded bluntly.

Raising his eyes up from the plot in front of him, Steve was absently toying with a cufflink as he looked back at the woman. "Well, [i]first of all[/i], Rita, did you see that kid fix the copier? I mean, if we get into a Xerox emergency here, I definitely want that kid on our team."

[i]A Xerox emer...[/i] Reaching up a hand, Rita pinched the bridge of her nose in vain effort at heading off a rising headache. "How did I know I was going to regret asking that question," the woman posed aloud.

"...[b]second[/b], what if we're in the middle of Hydra agents in the Qurac Congo and I want a triple, no-fat latte with caramel drizzle? Who's going to get that, Rita? [i]Huh?[/i] Who's going get that? [i]You?[/i] God, Rita, take the star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame out of your ass and think about someone else for a change!"

The fingers pinching the bridge of her nose came away, as the woman planted her face in her hand. Then took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I have... no response to that," the woman answered flatly.

"...and, you know, he [b]maybe[/b] speaks Swahili, Lingana, and Arabic. So, you know..."

"What!?" Rita's head snapped up, her eyes darting around as though just realizing that someone wasn't in the room with them. "What happened to Mahmoud?"

"Killed in a car jacking in Manhatten," Steve answered with a shrug. "It was a week... month ago. The office sent a card. I think."

Rita ran her hands through her hair, turning back toward the window out into the sky for a moment. Glancing back over her shoulder, the woman asked, "What about that ex-SEAL? What's his name? Dave? Frank?"

"Bobby," Steve corrected with perfect aplomb. "Shooting accident on the range."

"Really?" Rita uttered, finding herself stunned at the news. Two S.H.I.E.L.D. linguists gone... just like that? "Wow. That's a string of bad luck."

"I know, right?" 

[color=lime]"Here's your coffee, Mister Dayton."[/color]

The boy was dressed for travel. An athletic track suit now dressing his form with a pair of what looked like vintage Jordans. That was probably the Garfield equivalent to Armani. Accepting the offered cup, Steve saluted the kid. "First class, Garfield." 

Then, he took a sip. "[b]Oh my god[/b], Garfield. What... what the fuck is [i]that?[/i] [b]Folgers?[/b]" 

[color=lime]"...it's all they had, sir."[/color]

Lowering the cup down, Steve put one arm straight out, finger extended. His voice boomed ominously as he commanded, "Get the FUCK off my helicarrier."

Garfield's jaw went slack.

Rita just blinked, then planted her face back into the palm of her hand. "Steve, what... does that even mean?" the woman asked, realizing it was more of a rhetorical question if anything. "We're seriously, like, [b]thirty thousand feet[/b] here."

"Right, thirty thousand feet, and it's fucking Folgers in my cup," Dayton spat back vehemently, staring daggers at Garfield even as he growled in response to Rita's commentary. "Which, let me tell you, is NOT the best part of waking up."

With a loud, exaggerated sigh, Rita Farr shook her head and started for the exit.

She got three steps before Steve called after her. "Rita."

And she kept walking.

"Rita!"

Her hand grabbed the door handle, pulling it open.

[b]"RITA!"[/b]

Siloutted in the frame of the watertight door, the brunette turned her head sharply to scream back, [b][i]"WHAT!?"[/i][/b]

"The fuck are you going?" Steve asked.

"Getting away from you," she shot back, slamming the door hard behind her.

[i]"Pfft,"[/i] Steve uttered, before glancing over toward Garfield with a shrug. "Women, am I right?"