It's Happy Hour Somewhere

Summary:
July 15 2014: Sara and Steve meet at a bar for drinks and company, and in turn are met by Thomas

O'Halloran's

One of the old, old school police bars. The decor here hasn't changed since the 50's probably… possibly along with the bartender by the looks of things.


Characters

NPCs

  • None

Mood Music:
[* None]


O'Halloran's is one of those bars that time forgot. Or at least time forgot it somewhere in the fifties, which means it's beyond memory for most people, but not old enough for Steve Rogers to remember. It mostly stays the same by sheer force of habit and presence of NYPD's finest, who tend to respond poorly to change. Most of the regulars these days are on the older side, more of Sara's father's generation than her own, but there's a smattering of others as well. Sara's claimed a booth in a corner where she can watch the bar, and after ordering herself a beer, decided she shouldn't drink alone and gave Steve a call.

*

"Hey," Steve says as he comes through the door and nearly nails an awestruck cop as he passes by.

"Holy sh-" mouths the cop and whispers to his buddy, "My dad used to have comic books of that guy."

Cap gets to the booth and eyes the choice. He decides to sit across from her and smiles as he slides in. "How you doin, Sara?"

*

The man who comes in the door is a bit young ish and a bit not NYPD for this scene. Native American by the looks of him, with country casual sensibilities in his dress. Jeans and button up that'd look more at home on a cattle ranch than a walking a beat. At least he's not wearing cowboy boots to go with it. He's got a badge on though, one that says US Marshal's Service, if anyone's close enough to read it, and he's got a nice looking black eye.

It's possible Sara knows who this guy is, if she reads up on this kind of thing. He does, more or less, what she does for the Marshals. And he's casting about for a place to sit and ignoring the looks he's getting from the clientele.

*

"Hey, you made it," Sara greets with a flash of a smile as Steve slides in, waving over a waitress to take an order.

"You wanna split some loaded fries?" She pushes a spare menu toward him, leaning back in the booth in a comfortable manner that suggests she's probably on beer number two. "I'm…okay. Holding out hope, I guess. Trying not to let the not working thing get to me. I'm sure IA'll call soon enough. Might as well get my story straight. How about you? Do anything interesting?"

The new arrival gets a brief look, one brow quirking upward. She may not precisely recognize him, but she definitely recognizes him as not a usual.

*

The Marshal sidles up to the bar. At least the bartender knows who he is. "Rough day at work Thomas?"

"Yeah. Usual, if you don't mind, Bill?" A beer comes in short order and he takes a sip, still looking for a place to sit. His eyes sweep around the room and he lights on Cap, and then makes his way over.

"Hey. Sorry to interrupt and this is kind of a strange question but… are you the Steve Rogers?"

*

"Of course I made it. Did you think I wouldn't come?" Steve asks. "Loaded fries? Sounds great. What are they loaded with?" He looks over the menu and raises an eyebrow at the idea of french fries with sour cream amongst others.

"Well, just today I—" His words get cut off by the Marshal. "I'm Steve Rogers," he says with a nod. "I imagine there are a lot of us out there."

*

"Cheese, bacon, sour cream, green onions. All the good stuff. And, you know, I figured you might have things to do," Sara replies with a wry smile.

"Like your dishes, or something." She slips in the last right as Thomas comes over, winking when he asks his question. She seems more amused by the interruption than otherwise, smile lingering at one corner of her lips.

*

Thomas smiles and sticks his hand out. "Well if you don't mind then, I'd like to shake your hand. My grandpa always told stories about you. He was a Windtalker in the 101st. Not Navajo but able to learn the code and every time we'd come over to visit he told all of us the story about the time that he saw the Cap in action." Thomas smirks. "From a distance. It was his favorite though. I know you probably get this a lot, but thanks for all you did."

The Marshal smiles at Sara when she silently greets him. "Thomas Nashoba, US Marshals." By way of introduction.

*

"Oh," Steve says with a smile and raised eyebrows. "101st? What his name Nashoba like yours?" Cap looks a bit wistful as he shakes Nashoba's hand. "Screaming Eagles. Fought like hell on D-Day. Was he one of those who took over the factory as Mesieres?"

"You don't have to thank me, Mr. Nashoba. A lot more men gave up a lot more than I had to."

*

"Sara Pezzini, NYPD," Sara nods to Thomas, adding her own introduction. "Nashoba. You work on the weird stuff, right?" She pauses for a moment, smile fading out as she stiffens just a little bit. "They didn't call you in on the gas line issues and the fires, did they?"

*

"All gave some." Thomas grins at the Cap. "Some gave all. You match your reputation Mister Rogers."

Thomas nods to Sara, his brows knitting briefly in recognition of the name. "Pezzini, as in Detective Pezzini? Yeah, they do call me for… odd things, yes. I did see a note on my files about gas lines and fires. Seemed odd but couldn't tell if it was a request from the Department or just a heads up while I was working. I just got transferred to the New York station because of the high concentration of fugitives in the tri-city area. I'd meant to come around and introduce myself to you on the job. Just hadn't gotten around to it. I've had a busy few days." He says with an apologetic smile.

*

Steve chuckles, "Reputations get bloated when you spend 70 years in a block of ice. People love a good mystery." Steve looks to her with pursed lips, realizing he made her introduce herself. Gas line issue? He wasn't sure he heard about it and listens intently.

*

"That'd be me," Sara says with a faint, strained smile. "I'm sure we'll get plenty of chances to get to know each other. You want to join us, Marshal?" she invites. "If Steve doesn't mind. We were going to share some fries, he's going to keep me from drinking alone. We can have a weird-off," she suggests, smile settling crooked.

*

"Seventy years in an ice block doesn't seem to have bloated you any though, Mister Rogers." Thomas laughs. "And yes, Ms. Pezzini, I'd love to join you, but I'm only Marshal on duty. Thomas is fine, really."

He glances over to the Cap once more to make sure he does not in fact mind, and then slides into the booth next to Cap. It's not polite to crowd a lady.

"Weird off? I seem to be in rarified company for that, but I'll try to keep up." Thomas grins with a wink and a pull at his beer.

*

Cap shakes his head and makes the 'heck no' face. "Come on in, Thomas." As Sara mentions the weird off Cap shrugs, "She's far more normal than she likes to let on, truth be told." Cap gives an upwards nod to the bartender in order to get himself a beer.

"Flatterer," Sara accuses Steve with a smirk, adding on that order of fries when someone comes over to see if they need anything more. "Calling a girl normal. You'll make me blush." She takes another sip of her beer, winking over the bottle before she looks to Thomas again.

"Well, nice to meet you, Thomas," she says with a more polite nod. "And good luck. Running after any interesting fugitives lately?"

*

That gets a light snort. "Depends on how you mean. Most of the ones on my list are 'interesting' in some fashion or another. And then every once in a while we get calls from Local agencies. Not the NYPD so much. You guys have resources, but smaller Sheriff’s Departments and such. I actually had a run in with the Blood Brothers a couple of days ago which was… fun." That last said rather dryly. "Trying to get a lead on some jackass who calls himself, get this, Codpiece. He's wanted in a couple of jurisdictions for… um… the usual wannabe super stuff. And I've got a laundry list of legitimate problems said to be hiding out in Gotham, New York or occasionally Metropolis."

He shakes his head. "What about you two? Any interesting cases or…" Thomas glances for a moment over to Cap. "Whatever it is you do that might not be super-secret?"

*

"Codpiece?" Cap mouths to Sara with wide eyes and a sort of ick face. What is this world coming to? "Me? I painted my apartment. And I got a dishwasher. And Sara told me the guy from the Beatles got shot. That's about all the non-secret stuff I can tell you."

*

"How do you tell the locals from the weird ones in Gotham?" Sara asks with a wry smile, shaking her head. "I've got a few friends out that way, visit every now and then, but I don't think you could pay me enough to work in the department there. Codpiece sounds, ah. Super fun, though," she adds, even if she can't quite keep a straight face as she says it. "That'll be an interesting post-arrest search, I'm sure."

*

Thomas laughs.

"Oh the paperwork on that one. Well, so long as I'm here let me do the official departmental thing and say that if you ever need Federal resources for something, just give me a ring and we'll make something work. I'll make sure you get my card before the night's out. The Marshal's Service is all about interagency cooperation right now and frankly I think that's a good thing. Our remit is too narrow to do much other than collar people that got away from other people otherwise."

The Cap's list of interesting things gets a grin. "You know my grandpa once told me that anyone with that boring a life is usually hiding something." He's teasing of course. Normal is not something he does and he figures that if Cap and Sara don't know, they can pretty easily find out. The Tin Star files aren't public, but they aren't classified either.

*

"When I was seven I hit a baseball into the neighbors window and didn't fess," Steve says with shrugged shoulders. "Kept that one in a long time. Feels good to let it out," he deadpans.

*

"Sure, but I'm the one who doesn't realize Jesus forgives us for the bad things," Sara laughs at Steve's confession, nudging at his foot under the table. "I assure you, despite Steve's flattery, I don't qualify for normal on any scale, so there's nothing here to hide." Except for the Witchblade, and the demons, and the dead partners. Minor details.

"And thanks," she adds with a dip of her chin. "Special cases usually handles things, but every now and then we end up over our heads, need a few more resources."

*

"See. I knew you were holding back. I'll bet Miss Pezzini did too. Cop's intuition." Thomas says with a dry tone and a wink as he sips his beer again.

"Yeah, I do know how that one goes, Miss Pezzini. That's why I'm so quick to offer. Sometimes you have to get around a few administrative hurdles but… well, as my ex-military co-workers like to remind me 'one team, one fight.' We're all in this for the same result, right?" Thomas has a bit more latitude on that one himself, being both in the Investigative Operations Division and the Special Operations Group. Of course there are things he's not telling himself, mostly because they're not bar conversation.

The loaded fries arrive, getting his attention. "Oooh. Those look good. Knew there was a reason I liked this place."

*

"I'm never going to outlive that one, am I?" Steve says with a grin to Sara. This won't be the last time he hears her make that comment, of that he's positive. One team? One fight? If this man only knew the stuff that went on at SHIELD. And though he'd like to look down at it, it was he who doubted Jericho Trent when others were willing to believe, and that doubt almost got a bar full of civilians grenaded.

*

"Please, if I'm not calling you Marshal, I think you can call me Sara," Sara says to Thomas with a wry smile, pushing the fries toward the center of the table and pulling one off for herself. "I remember everything you say, Steve," she adds with a grin to the captain. "I'm saving it all up for when I need you to convince you to do something."

*

"Sara it is then." Thomas says with a nod and a smile. Still calling Steve 'Mister Rogers' though, even though it sounds odd and places him in the wrong branch of service.

"I dunno, Mister Rogers. You might outlive it. You're pretty spry for a guy pushing ninety five, you know. And you don't look a day over thirty."

He really doesn't and heck, Thomas has no idea what the side effects of the serum might be. "But if you want my advice, don't go head to head with Sara here."

He glances back across the table with a grin. "You have a pretty formidable reputation even among the Marshals."

*

Steve chuckles, "Well when they put me in the cube I was only 25. So I guess it only aged me five years." He grins wider at the idea of taking Sara on. "She packs a mean jab, I hear. And, like she says, she remembers everything I say. Just in case."

*

"Twenty-five?" Sara says mournfully, giving Steve a sideways look. "Kids. I swear. It's all kids." She takes another fry, then a sip of her beer. "The real reason I keep getting tempted by SHIELD. It's the only chance I get to hang out with women anywhere near my own age. I keep trying to tell myself it's going to keep me young." Thomas' words actually get a faint blush, sheepish. "It's possible the last time a marshal stuck his nose in one of my cases, he almost lost it," she admits through a fake cough.

*

Thomas chuckles. He's not going to touch the subject of his own age. He feels like he's twenty five going on one hundred after some of the crap he's been through in the last four years. "Only Five years, Cap. Not bad for a shelf life."

Sara gets a wide, wide grin. "Ah yes. Deputy Marshal Ericson, I believe that was." There's a grin and a knowing wink. "I replaced him. And everyone at the office thanks you for putting him in his place."

*

"I look 30, Sara so it's fine." Steve gives her a wink and returns her earlier kick from under the table. "When I was young there was only the G-men. Now we have the FBI, ATF, DEA, Marshals, Secret Service, NSA, CIA, SHIELD, amongst others that I can't tell Thomas here. That's quite a list."

*

"When you were young? Last week?" Sara grins at Steve, rubbing a hand at the back of her neck when Thomas mentions the old marshal. "That'd be him," she agrees, pointing. "Walked in and demanded all the case work I'd been putting together like I was part of the typing pool. You all got your man, but I didn't really need the help with the tracking him down." Because that's what it was about. Helping her. Apparently. "Hopefully once this latest mess gets cleaned up, we'll run into each other under…Well. They're never pleasant circumstances, but you can't do worse than Ericson."

*

Thomas nods and looks at his watch. "I should hope not, but if ever I do, tell me to take it to the matt and you can beat the snot out of me until I see your point of view. Office tradition that I don't mind extending to fellow law enforcement." He stands and drops a twenty on the table. "Thanks for the company you two, sadly I need to be on my way. I do hope to run into the both of you more though. Nice to know that folks like you are out there fighting the good fight."

He takes what's left of his beer, waves to both Sara and Cap and heads out.

*

"Why do I spend so much time around you?" Steve asks with a grin after giving a wave to the departing Thomas. "Oh, right. It's because of how nice you are to me."

*

"Oh, I've got the answer to this one," Sara says, raising a finger with a grin and pausing to wave as Thomas departs. "See, you spend time around me for the same reason I keep going for the bad boys. It's the super sexy air of danger, and the allure of being the one to change me, show me there's more to life than booze and guns and violence. You can save me, Steve Rogers." Her grin spreads as she reaches for another fry, teasing. "Any time."


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