Hawaii Five-O'Clock Somewhere

January 15, 2015: So an heiress, a spy, and a pararescueman walk into a bar…

Tiki bar, Hawaii



  • None

Mood Music:

Kate Bishop tried to go toe to toe - verbally speaking - with Bobbi Morse earlier. While neither left with so much as a hair out of place, Kate's current state of crankiness suggests she didn't exactly come out on top. Probably. In her mind.

It's why she's made her way to the tiki bar right by the beach, run by the hotel with the swank cabanas she managed to swing an upgrade for. The best part is that the drinks are all-inclusive.

Wearing the short-shorts, halter top, and flip flops that suit the role of bored young socialite she's taken on for this, she's currently poking her straw into a frozen pina colada with a frown that suggests she's imagining drink and straw alike to possibly be different things.

While some of the scars make bikinis… unwise… Natasha is rocking a one-piece, a sarong, and a big floppy hat and big round sunglasses. She looks a little like a 60s actress on a beach holiday. She's also a brunette at the moment, which adds to a very slight Audrey Hepburn look. If Audrey Hepburn had a little more muscle under that skin.

She comes up to lean on the same bar where Kate's having her drinks, elbows pressed against the edge, reaching up to pull the sunglasses off and hook them in the top of her bathing suit. It's enough to get the bartender's attention; her order made, she tips her head to Kate and smiles drily.

"Think it's dead yet?" she inquires.

When he perches on the stool next to Kate, on the opposite side from Natasha, Sam Wilson barely looks any better dressed for a SHIELD mission than she does. He's wearing a gray V-neck shirt and dark green shorts, his only concession to formality a Stark Industries badge dangling from a lanyard around his neck. He may be in Hawaii on business, but he is in Hawaii. SHIELD should count their victories: that lanyard could be a lei.

"Surprise, surprise," he tells Hawkeye. "Apparently it is possible for us to be sent to some far-flung location that isn't completely awful. I'd toast, but she got here before I did." He inclines his head toward Natasha. He's not sure whether she's part of their group or just a friendly barfly, but he's going to be polite either way.

Kate wrinkles her nose at the question, looking up from her drink. "Not dead yet," she answers. "Not telling me anything useful either, though. Clearly it's going to require some closer interrogation." She pulls the glass closer, taking a sip from the straw, only to pause with a surprised arch of her brows at Sam's arrival. "Hey, Sam!" she exclaims as she swallows, brightening somewhat. Enough for a grin, at least. "What're you doing here?" Don't blow the op, Kate.

Aw. Her cheerfulness is precious. Natasha's eyes crinkle a little at the edges as she eyes Sam's approach; nodding to him once, she gives him the quick up-down that any sane woman would give a fine-looking man walking up. She receives her own strawberry daiquiri, settling with her back against the bar as she takes a sip.

"Oh, you know. Business trip," Sam replies, wearing a grin of his own. He taps the Stark badge. "Probably just one of those conferences that's just an excuse for everyone to go on a paid vacation, and you're never expected to do anything tougher than keep a seat warm — but you can never be sure. They might need me for something important." In the angle of his eyebrows, there is a hint that there might be significance to his words below the surface.

He also returns Natasha's look, a slight smirk playing across his face. "Anyway, I'm not complaining." The bartender glances at Sam after bringing Nat her beverage; he orders the most ludicrously-named rum drink on the menu and then rubs his hands together in anticipation. "I bet it's one of those things with different-colored layers." A very manly drinker, our Falcon.

"See, I could be convinced to actually get a job if it came with all expenses paid trips to Hawaii," Kate grins at Sam, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at his drink order. "Or, in the alternative, I could continue to take advantage of family connections to go anyhow." Looking between Natasha and Sam, she pauses, clearing her throat, then gestures between them. "Have you two met?" And another sip of pina colada. Because alcohol is totally going to help with not messing things up.

He's a girl drink drunk, our Falcon. Then again, Tasha's drinking a pink alcohol slushie, so who's she to talk. "That's my language," she agrees. "All my life I wanted one of those lives where I traveled the globe meeting the most interesting people." And killing them. Clearly. She extends a manicured hand to Sam, raising her eyebrows: "I'm sure we'd both remember. Wouldn't we?"

"Absolutely," Sam answers with a grin, returning the handshake. "Although I'd better stick to just one of these, if I want to remember this meeting." He frowns down at the drink he's served. It's in a novelty glass. "That…shouldn't be too much trouble. I guess you're here for the conference, too? Small world. Or a small island, at least." He turns to Kate and shrugs. "I definitely lucked out with the Stark gig — I'll be the first to admit that. But I think you're pretty lucky yourself, all things considered."

"I'm running away from home. Sort of." Kate takes another sip of her drink. "It's possible that after the whole Gotham thing, I might've been on camera. Briefly. In profile. In the distance. Or something. And it's possible that I might have told Clint I'd join up with a certain group of superheroes, and it's possible that I maybe haven't broken it to the family what I do with all my free time," she coughs into her drink. "So, you know. Being Kate Bishop, socialite. Which does have the pleasant side effect of lots of booze and sun, so not a loss."

"Aw, c'mon now. What happens in Maui…" Is remembered by the woman who can't get drunk, so watch yourself. Natasha tilts her head slowly at the glass, giving it a squint and a raise of her eyebrows. She looks back to Kate, nodding toward a nearby table and the door beside it. Maybe all this would make better sense over there. "That's an… interesting set of problems, isn't it? Let's sit down. Or take a walk."

"Jesus, I'm sorry, Kate," Sam says sympathetically, all of his focus now on the young archer. He puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I didn't realize. I figured…" He makes a face. "Well. My mom figured out what I was up to in about fifteen seconds." In hindsight, inviting Captain America over for dinner hadn't been the brightest move in the Sam Wilson Secret Identity Playbook. Although in its defense, the competition for brightest move in the Sam Wilson Secret Identity Playbook had to be canceled due to low turnout. He glances over in the direction Natasha indicates, then nods amiably. "I'll be right behind you two, as soon as I figure out where I'm supposed to hold this glass to pick it up."

Kate shrugs. "I doubt Dad'd recognize me even if he saw it. But, you know. Better safe than sorry, right?" She flashes a crooked smile, claiming her drink in one hand as she slides off the stool. "And I'd aim for not the hula dancer boobs when it comes to picking it up," she adds with a wink as she turns toward the table to follow Natasha. As soon as her back is to Sam, though, her free hand is signing close to her body, with as much flailing as can be contained in that sort of gesture. Natasha works with Clint. According to Clint, Natasha knows everything about everything. So she must know ASL, right? « Nobody said he was supposed to be here, and Hill said we didn't want word to get out and make people panic! » Kate Bishop: not a super spy.

"You might have to use both hands, sweetheart. Sometimes that's your best strategy." Did. Did that mean. It's hard to tell. Half of what Natasha says on a daily basis sounds suggestive, right? She ambles over to the table, serene and smooth, looking as unruffled as Captain America's hair as Kate's hand frantically spazzes. She's setting down her own glass as she replies, turning into the shadows: « Sam's capable of subtle. Usually. Sometimes. » Her mouth twists slightly to one side as she considers.

« Probably. » She settles into the booth.

"I think it may be designed so that you have to grab it by the hula dancer boobs," Sam answers with a grimace. "Hilarious and classy." He looks to the bartender for assistance. The bartender looks right back, impassive.

A few seconds after Natasha finishes signing her reply, Sam arrives at the table. And second base, for that matter. He slides in next to Kate and, in his hurry to set the novelty glass down, might give her an opportunity to make a surreptitious reply. "You don't think your parents would be okay with it? I mean, you're out there doing good in the world. It's like… philanthropy. Really, really active philanthropy."

« Does he at least know who you are? » At least Kate is aware of her capability to screw things up. That's a step in the direction of not doing it, right? But then Sam's reaching the table, and she takes another sip from her straw. "Mom would've been great with it," she explains. "Dad…less. He was never a big fan of the way Mom got wrapped up in charity causes. And I'm pretty sure he blames how busy she was with it for not catching the cancer sooner, so…" She trails off, shrugging again. "He's pretty much on the superheroes are a vigilante menace page. On the other hand, the trust fund should kick over in full next year, at which point what he thinks it going to be pretty moot."

« Depends. How good is my disguise? » Natasha takes a slurp of her daiquiri and makes some room for Sam, scooting along and letting her body and sarong block the view of them from the rest of the bar. "So it's a question of keeping a secret for the next year? Not impossible." Though the tone of her voice suggests some people might find it harder than she would. "I suppose having him imperiled by evil, evil men and rescued by superheroes isn't going to change his mind? It's not like that can't be arranged." Almost certainly a joke.

The way Kate casually mentions losing her mother seems to strike a chord with Sam, who quiets and gives the younger vigilante a thoughtful look. He's not going to launch into a heart-to-heart now, but he might just be penciling one in on a mental planner. "I am all about the rescues," he instead offers, in support of Nat's teasing suggestion. "Especially ones that will sort out complicated family issues. That opportunity doesn't come up too often."

"Not unless said superheroes want to get sued," Kate laughs at Natasha's suggestion. "It'll be okay. I've just sort of been avoiding it for most of the last six years. So when it comes out, I want it to happen right. You know. Something a little bit bigger than probationary member on the side. Besides, I'm not convinced Bobbi isn't going to kill me first," she wrinkles her nose. "Or, you know. Engineer an accident."

"Mmm. That does remind me, actually." Slurp. Natasha rolls her head toward Kate in exactly the same way that any rather buzzed person might, but her eyes are far too clear for anything like that. "How are things going with you and your… partner?" The question and its implications are all too clear, even if the lady looks perfectly calm and friendly.

"Man, what did I just say about rescues?" Sam says, shaking his head and stirring his drink. "Whoever Bobby is, he can forget about his little engineered accident. I'll airlift you out of it. I've done it before." Striking a more serious note, he adds, "And, for real, if there's anything I can do to help? Say the word." He gets in a few sips of his own drink, then chips in his own response to Natasha. "You mean Clint? I've airlifted him, too. Word of advice, though: don't criticize his sloppy bandaging technique. He apparently takes that personally."

Kate gives Natasha a forlorn sort of look. "You're not going to threaten to kill me too, are you?" she asks mournfully. "Please don't. I get it, and I'm super glad that people care enough about both of us to threaten our lives, really. It's sweet. And I care about Clint. A lot. For an inappropriately long time. But I am not going to become nothing more than Clint Barton's latest girlfriend." She turns to Sam, almost challenging. "I'm dating Clint. We're both very happy about it, and he's very nervous about it. But also, someone just blew up, like, all of the tri-cities, which is way more important, right?"

"Mmm. I think I'm above that. Or at least I really don't threaten to kill people unless I actually mean it. You know what would happen if you hurt him. But if you made your choices based on the fear of what Bobbi would do — or what I would do — rather than who you want to be with, what you want to do? That would be stupid."

Natasha flicks her fingers up dismissively. But the mention of his bandaging technique actually elicits a snort of sudden laughter that she might actually not have intended. "There was this thing in Mumbai. He's sensitive about that kind of thing now. Speaking of the mad bomber. I heard they actually caught someone. All the way back in New York. They were going to be questioning him today." She sounds a little like a tween missing a One Direction concert.

For his part, Sam just looks perplexed at Kate's admission. "You and Clint?" The gorgeous, got-it-together young heiress and… Clint. That's going to take a few processing cycles. He opens his mouth to speak, then shrugs. "Okay. Um, best of luck. Don't let him bandage you." He points at Natasha. "She knows, apparently." Then something Nat said catches up with him, and he downgrades being befuddled about Hawkeye-squared to a background task. "They caught someone? Who caught him? And are we talking the bomber, or just one person involved?" Kate's distraction gambit appears to have worked.

Kate wrinkles her nose at Natasha. "I'm not letting Bobbi tell me what to do. It's just…awkward. I like Bobbi. I admire her a lot. So I guess it kind of stings that it seems like she's written me off just because I'm dating Clint." And the truth comes out. "Also, I wouldn't let Clint bandage the dog," she adds, eying the other two like they're crazy for even suggesting it. Shuddering. "But yeah. They found the guy. The one from the internet video. I mean, he had to have help. And it's pretty weird that if he could plan the attacks that well he'd be that easy to catch. I'm sure they'll get to the bottom of it, though."

Ah. This might be a Teachable Moment. Natasha leans forward a little, running a fingertip around the rim of her daiquiri. "Interesting point," she says, eyes flicking between Sam and Kate. "So what do you deduce from that, Watsons? Someone pulled off a feat like that but was sloppy enough to get caught. You figure he had to have help. What does that mean?"

"This had better not be one of those 'I let you catch me to get into your super-secret hideout' things," Sam says with sudden vehemence. "I've seen that movie. Definitely move anything expensive out of the building where he's being held, just in case." Something else occurs to him: "Also, have we checked to make sure it's not a robot? A lot of people I know have turned out to be robots, lately." It seems Sam Wilson leads a stranger life than one might initially assume. He crosses his arms and smirks. "I mean, the robot thing isn't likely, sure. But it can't hurt to check."

"That he wanted to get caught," Kate answers, nodding in agreement with Sam. "Though getting into the Triskelion doesn't seem like it'd be worth that. I mean, you can walk in the front door. Yeah, you'd have to go shock and awe after to get to whatever you wanted, but you'd have to do the same from holding." She pauses, taking another sip of her drink. "Or it could be worse. There's a lot of animosity toward people like us lately. The killings. And when we got to the scenes of the attacks, there were people waiting to attack the responders. He could be trying to make a point, turn public opinion. I mean, it's a rock and a hard place, right?" she asks, looking between the pair. "Someone offs the guy, it's look at those dangerous vigilantes! No one does, and it's another round of look how much damage you all cause and encourage and allow to be caused by trying so hard to be perfect and good and not hurt the bad guy."

"So knowing his motivation — and the motivation of his helpers, whoever they are — is important. We're spending time and resources talking to this guy; he's there either because he wants to be or because someone else wants him to be. How did we find this guy in the first place?"

Natasha eyes her glass. Looks back up at Sam. Considers the 'robot' question. "Could be. That's been going around lately."

Sam listens with growing unease as Kate goes into her theories. He hadn't even considered large-scale PR angles. That's a bit above his pay grade. "There's always a chance that he's just an ego case," he says on an optimistic note. "Got cocky and sloppy or just wanted to brag about his brilliantly planned terrorist attack." That's at least a little less foreboding than the other theories. "But I'd like to hear how we caught him, too. There's cocky and sloppy, and then there's 'this was too easy.'" He glances at Nat. "And don't get me wrong, I like most of the robots I've met. But you usually wouldn't know, to look at them."

"I don't remember," Kate shakes her head with a small frown. "We were trying to get people out of the water and take out the snipers who were hitting the rescuers. And then they were saying we needed to get to where he was." She takes a breath, opens her mouth to say something, and then her phone dings. Distractedly, she takes a glance at it, only to pause again. "Damn, gotta go look into something. See you around, Sam? Back home, if you end up busy here."

"That does happen," Natasha admits, nodding to Sam. "Maybe that's all it is. And robots are cool. Some of them. Just, you know. Gotta double-check on their programming. Not everyone's down with the First Law." She slides up as Kate says she needs to go and stays standing when the woman gets out. "I need to head back myself. Got some reading to catch up on." Maybe it's briefs. Maybe it's Chekov. Maybe it's Harry Potter.

Sam says, quietly, "Conference BS aside, I really am here as a consultant. If you need anything from Stark Medical, talk to me. And if you need anything else?" He glances significantly at Kate. "I can be your eye in the sky. Especially since, as far as I know, whatever this bug is hasn't made the jump to birds." He shrugs. "Think about it." In a normal tone of voice, he tells Natasha, "It was great to meet you. Hope to see you around more. And it's always good to see you, too, Kate."

Back to: RP Logs

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License