A Break in the Weather

[stands_for_something]

There's an old man sitting at a table in the Forum, reading his way through a pile of mail and enjoying one of the first balmy days this part of the Nexus has had in a while. To all appearances, the letters are a series of magazine-publisher sweepstakes entry forms, if anyone feels like reading over his shoulder.

Setting one down, he sighs, then looks up and turns a question toward whomever might be around and inclined to talk. "Does anyone have a story of a particularly satisfying way they quit a job? Or if you're management, a satisfying way you dealt with a problem employee?"

Comments

[stands_for_something]

Breathe, Verity, breathe. It'll be okay, Grandpa America is a pretty chill guy. "Thank you."

"Let's hope he wins, then, eh?" Old man Steve adds, still chuckling. Non-Skrull meats are the sort of meats everybody wants to grill.

"Huh." Steve looks over the card thoughtfully, before remarking, "I can honestly say this is the lowest registration rating I've ever seen. I can guess why, too--I'm sorry, if it was upsetting for you."

[brave_heart_verity]

She can breathe and have a little panic attack at the same time. She's very talented! In fact, she can do both of those things and keep smiling for as long as he's laughing.

"Yes. He deserves some good luck one of these days." Non-Skrull meats is one of the best things about the Nexus, in her opinion.

The smiling can't quite last through talking about this. Sorry, Grandtain. "Yeah, I think I'm the only one with it. It's not--" She cuts herself off and takes a breath while she thinks about what she wants to tell him. "Mostly I was annoyed that I went through all that testing for very little reason. I didn't want to be there, and it was painful at times, and I didn't want to be a superhero or anything, but..." But she wanted the pain to mean something. She's not sure how to explain that without sounding like she's whining.

[stands_for_something]

Old Steve nods his agreement at the assertion that Clint deserves to have some good luck. When Verity can't smile about registration, he isn't bothered--he can't smile about it, either, and he's not the sort of man who expects women to smile through everything. "You said you registered right away? That explains it: early on, Tony wanted heavy hitters and media darlings, people he could trot in front of a camera to show how safe the program was making people. You didn't want power or fame, and average people probably wouldn't have been comforted by the idea that any communication they might ever have made could be reviewed by you and deemed true or false in a second. You'd have been someone to keep away from the cameras if you'd wanted on a team."

[brave_heart_verity]

It's things like this that make him her favorite. The little things, the fact he's a good man even when it's not terribly important. "I guess that makes sense. I wouldn't have been any help in his public relations efforts, that's for sure. Can you imagine the faces I'd be making every time he opened his mouth?"

Because she can. And she almost regrets not having the chance.

[stands_for_something]

Old Steve chuckles quietly, taking a sip of his coffee. "Part of me would've liked to see that. But I'm just as glad you didn't have to go through the rigmarole."

[brave_heart_verity]

"I doubt I'd have been invited back for a second time anyway." And Verity can take the hint that he's not going to talk about whatever's bothering him, so she'll drink her akhaccino instead.

[stands_for_something]

Steve passes her SHRA ID back to her. "Did they at least help you with some work placement, or something? I know Tony made some claims in that direction, but it was hard to tell with him how much was pitch and how much was promise."

[brave_heart_verity]

She'll tuck it back into her wallet, which goes back into her bag. Girls and their lack of pockets, right? "Not really. I mean, having the documentation helped me prove to people that I could do what I said I could do, but other than that, it was all on me. Which I didn't mind, I had some pretty specific requirements. But the curse is extremely marketable, I didn't need help. There were other people who could have used it more."

[stands_for_something]

Maybe that's why '90s heroes had so many pouches.

"Ah. Were you able to find a job you liked, at least?"

[brave_heart_verity]

It all begins to make sense.

"It was okay. My boss was pretty nice, and the work wasn't horrible. I got to work from home and could afford a nice place in a safe neighborhood. I didn't have much to complain about." Except the pain. Always, always the pain, and the isolation, and... nothing important.

[stands_for_something]

"You make it sound nice," he observes gently, "but that's not the face of job satisfaction." It's important to him. It will always be important to him.

[brave_heart_verity]

She sighs, looking down and trying not to fidget too much while she thinks.

"My job was to verify whether people answering surveys were being honest. It wasn't Tracy's fault that it hurt. It wasn't Mister Stark's or yours or mine or anyone's really. It doesn't seem useful to complain when there's nothing to be done about it." And gods know he's got better things to worry about.

[stands_for_something]

Gramptain rests a hand gently on one of hers. "Sometimes it helps just to talk; to know someone else understands how you feel, even if there's not much they can do. You don't have to go it alone."

[brave_heart_verity]

The touch is a surprise. Maybe it shouldn't be; he's basically the nicest person ever born. But still. She's surprised, and then she's smiling. "You keep coming here to relax and I keep screwing that up. I wanted to help you this time."

[stands_for_something]

"Who says you're screwing it up?" he counters amiably. "I feel better, being able to give someone a moment's comfort."

[brave_heart_verity]

"I... uh." She has no good counter for that.

This is a rare moment in her life; treasure it, Gramptain.

"How are you so perfect?" The question comes out without her entirely meaning to ask it out loud. "Because. Um. You're just. You're so nice."

[stands_for_something]

Verity's question surprises a laugh out of Gramptain, and he smiles. "I'm not perfect; I've got my faults, like anyone. But I've got good intentions, I care about as much as I can, and I make sure to follow through. It's not a bad way to start."

[brave_heart_verity]

Excuse her now she needs to blush until she melts into the ground.

"It's a better place to stop than most people I know." But then, thinking about the people she knows...

[stands_for_something]

"I was never much one for stopping," he admits.

[brave_heart_verity]

"Which is lucky for the rest of us, but..." She trails off, because it's really not her business. Not even a little.

[stands_for_something]

"But?"

[brave_heart_verity]

She shouldn't make faces like that, they might stick.

"Don't you get tired?"

[stands_for_something]

"Everyone gets tired," he admits, albeit indirectly. "Sometimes, you rest while you can, sometimes you just have to push through."

[brave_heart_verity]

He knows she can see what he did there, right?

Does he know how hard she's fighting the instinct to give him a look?

"I don't think anyone would blame you if you wanted to retire." Instead of doing paperwork. Lookin' at you, solar energy solicitation.

[stands_for_something]

He admitted it.

He chuckles. "I did say I wasn't good at stopping, didn't I? SHIELD's gone in some unfortunate directions under the past couple directors. It needs someone to bring it back into line. Someone who's willing to let go of power they shouldn't have, and yes, I appreciate the irony of doing that instead of retiring."