The Flag of Truce

January 6, 2015: Bobbi and Hunter run into each other in the Triskelion. It goes as well as you might think. Ok maybe not all that bad.

Gym - Triskelion

A workout space for those with clearance levels of 6 and up.



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Mood Music:

The Triskelion has many gyms and work out areas, but the one Bobbi Morse is currently occupying is reserved for Agents with a clearance of 6 and above. It keeps the heavy hitters from flattening the new recruits. Mockingbird is currently beating the snot out of a heavy bag, wearing a SHIELD-issue grey t-shirt and matching sweatpants. Her hair is tied back in a messy bun, and sweat has loose strands stuck to the sides of her face.

She's clearly been at it for a while, which can only mean one of a few things. Either she just finished writing a report, she ran into an ex-husband, or both. Due to the extreme violence she's inflicting on the bag, the ex-husband was definitely a factor. The vehemence would indicate it was the more recent one, Clint.

Hunter, returning from his little outing with May, is heading down to burn off some steam, some of that adrenaline. It is work out or drink, and right now, he wants his head clear. A black t-shirt with some ancient band name on it, and equally ancient workout pants fulfill his needs, and he opens the door, heading towards the workout area. The sound of pummeling earns a grin, lopsided, before he calls out, "You know, you are giving that bag a hard enough time that I could almost think you were the she-devil…" And he rounds passes enough of the bag to see who it is.

"BOBBI?" The word is shocked, his gym towel dropping to the floor, "What the bloody hell are you doing here? Oh this is perfect, just perfect!" He lifts his hands, rubbing them over his head, turning away for a moment before he turns back, "What are you doing here?"

"Is it She-Devil now?" Bobbi snarks back at Hunter. "When was I demoted from Demonic Hell Beast? Aw, Lance, are you finally getting over me?" Nope, still a demonic hell beast, clearly. She pauses in her pummeling of the bag to set her taped up hands on her hips. "I work here, remember?" she points out, giving him the stare.

"Granted, I've been stuck in Sao Paulo pretending to be a biochemist for AIM for a few months, but that's done now. Hallucinogenic coffee operation has been dismantled. Who the hell messes with coffee? That's like a cardinal sin." Bobbi shakes her head in disbelief at the stupidity of some of the Advanced Idea Mechanic schemes.

He folds his arms, a distinctly defensive action that tenses the muscles in his arms and chest nicely. "No, no I don't remember. I don't even remember you saying you would turn up here!" His voice is raised, the impact she usually has on the mellow man obvious. "What? You disrupt my life again, turning up like some demonic bad penny, and you go on about COFFEE?" Clearly the man is not best pleased. "That's it, I'll find somewhere else to work! This…" His finger moves from her to him and back "This never works!"

"Someone needs to switch to decaf. We're SHIELD agents, Lance, we don't get to choose where we're assigned. So for the next few months at least, you're going to have to deal with me being here." Bobbi smirks and sends another fist flying at the bag. "Just think how I feel. You and Barton are both here. I have double the regret lurking around."

"I'm not! I'm a bloody independent military contractor, remember." The folding of the arms continues and he glares. "Well, your chickens are coming home to roost, I gather you saw the man." The second husband? His replacement? Yeah, never comfortable. "This is not happening, Bobbi, we are not doing this!" This being, presumably, working together again.

"I am pretty sure the Helicarrier is big enough for the two of us to share, Lance. And yes, I saw Barton. He was considerably less hysterical over my presence than you're acting. Man up, pull up your pants, and stop acting like a 12 year old girl who's just had her pigtails pulled by the mean boy she used to like." Bobbi levels a flurry of strikes at the bag, barely covering her grin. Watching Hunter freak out is always entertaining. Cute even. Possibly endearing.

The glower deepens and he picks up his bag, stalking towards his own pummeling bag, the exercise suddenly appealing, "Maybe he isn't wise to the destructive power of the she-devil yet, he is only new to being your exe." The grumpiness is replacing the shock, and he takes aim, beginning to pummel in his own right, his fists hitting the bag with a serious of solid blows.

"Really, I'm that scary." Bobbi muses with a grin. She stops the swinging of her bag to watch him set up. "You're kind of cute when you're all shock and awe over my presence." Now she's just teasing. "What have you been up to for SHIELD? I never really considered you the sort who works for the man, even as a consultant."

Her amusement earns her a disgruntled glare from the boy, and the bag gets its share of her impact on him. "They pay well and they have cool toys." Grouchiness, a sin forever for him, particularly when she is amused. "I do work on the side for others, you know." Allllmost haughty. Regaining some little dignity.

"The toys are pretty great. The people aren't so bad either, myself excluded of course," Bobbi adds with a smirk. "She-Devils are a necessary evil, sorry Lance." She picks up a towel she'd brought along and slings it around her neck, wiping her face. She leans back against the wall to watch him work, or squirm, or both. "Find a new wife yet?" she asks. Ouch.

He lifts a hand, steadying the bag, giving her a dirty look. "No, I decided against that particular addiction again once I got it out of my system." The question had clearly stung, "I keep you she-devils well away from any chance of life-wreaking now. Got a third, or is it fourth, victim?" Ouch.

"You really should get back on the horse, Lance. They aren't all she-devils. Just steer clear of anyone that reminds you of me, you should be fine," Bobbi advises. "As long as you don't wear her down with talk of your demonic hell beast of an ex. Women aren't really fond of that. The constant references usually mean you're not over them," she points out.

"Good to see your ego is alive and well, Bobbi. For your information, luv, I'm over you." He turns to walk towards her, pointing a finger at her, "I'm so over you that I have more dates than I can handle, just so you know." He stops in front of her, glaring down at her.

"Name me three women you're currently dating," Bobbi challenges. Clearly she's expecting him to blank out, or say something like Dorothy, Blanche, and Rose from the Golden Girls. She arches a brow at him and crosses her arms over her chest. "Come on now, I'm guessing even Barton has a girl by now, been almost a year since we divorced."

"Like I'm going to give you their names. You'd probably fill their ears with poison about me." He too folds his arms, flexing the muscles in his arms and chest, giving her a stare in reply. "If you are so well balanced, you obviously are happily seeing someone then. Since it is almost a year since husband two."

Bobbi waves a hand dismissively. "Just the ones I had to romance for work purposes. And most of them are dead or in prison now. AIM, Hydra, you'd think they'd learn to spot me coming, hm?" She smiles. "Seriously, Lance. We do have to work in the same building for a while at least. Can we call a truce? I promise not to tell your romantic interests that you secretly love Kenny G and Michael Bolton, and we can be civil?"

The glare stays in place for a moment before he nods, offering his hand, "And I won't tell them that you look like a hag before you put your face on." Returning fire, his eyes narrowing slightly, "Hunter. Most people call me Hunter these days." There is a reason for that, and she is in front of him right now.

Bobbi takes his hand, and there's that tiny spark of electricity. They were quite something together once. But the shake is brief, respecting his boundaries. "Hunter then. We have a deal."

That spark brings a brief reply in his eyes, the handshake released before he nods and turns back to his workout. That bag begins to receive the pummeling that the tension from his shopping trip with May bought out in him. A pause and he adds, "Don't take a pool car out, Bobbi, HYDRA tagged one of them." Something still protective of her then..

"Keep on your toes. Apparently Hill has gone into pranking mode," Bobbi says in return, an exchange of protectiveness. "I'll let you get on with your workout. I have a report to finish. Next time AIM needs to hatch a plot somewhere with a nice beach." She moves to pick up her gear bag.

A flicker that almost made it to the grin that used to work so well on her, his eyes softening briefly, "I'll trade you for shopping with May." The grumble in his voice is put on now, an effort to keep those barriers up around her. Then the punchbag draws him, and he lays a good number of blows on it.

"God no. Shopping with May? For…non weaponry? I think a month in Guantanamo might be easier that how angry that must have made her," Bobbi laughs. She slings her bag over one shoulder. "See you around, Hunter." Smile. Then she's out the door.

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