Summary:Fitz and Chris talk aerodynamics and other things over bao and ramen at Wing Sing. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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There are quite a few people in Wing Sing, either waiting in line to get their food, or crowded around the five small tables that are the only seating. Chris is seated at one of the tables with a bowl of ramen in front of him that is almost as large as his head, the broth savory, the meat in it appearing to be beef, but really who knows? He pointed at a picture and took his chances. Whatever it is, it seems to be tasty as he manages to shovel some noodles into his mouth with chopsticks, slurping a bit entirely without decorum.
"So I was thinking, for the kites, we could add a little bit more stability if we moved the struts into more of a spider-web pattern rather than how we initially set them up, but they'll need to be a bit lighter. I think the structure itself will compensate for the lighter materials, though."
Leo Fitz looks tired as hell, but getting to talk about something fun that he could excessive his brain on counts as a small victory. One bowl is filled with the pork BBQ bao and the other bowl some nature of fried rice. Someone's still eating like they're in their 20's while they can. The bowl is nudged toward Chris with a finger and points at it. The silent invite of sharing. The rest of his expression is lost in thought giving a slow nod of agreement. "You know, there's this plastic they were talking about, it's, well it's like a coated mylar, but stronger, and not as heavy as aluminum. We'd have to figure out a way to coat it and protect it." Hrmmm. Then he frowns, "Is it telling that I really really want to see it flap like a hummingbird and the rest of my brain is yelling at me 'Fiiiitz, that's a stuuupid idea and entirely inefficient. You know better." The Scot sighs confiding to Chris with a faint grin, "It would look cool though."
Christopher Powell reaches over and grabs one of the little buns without hesitation. He's only 19. He can eat like he's in his 20s since he isn't even quite there yet. The bun is torn open and savored with an "Mmmnn" of happiness. Then he nods about the plastic and considers. "I mean, we could make it flap like a hummingbird but that would require a major redesign.. or you know, maybe a whole second project." Why not start accumulating them? "It would look cool."
Leo Fitz tiredly, but happily stuffs his face. Looking at the bitten into bean bun he turns it a few times to consider its shape. "These are not aerodynamic, but they sure are tasty." Licking his thumb he eyes Chris curious, "I kinda want to host a kite day in Central Park and see what others come up with." There's a but, "Buuuut," Yup. there was a but. "how come I have the sinking suspicion that everything Innocent involving flight these days attracts crazy alien robots and every idiot in the city with a villain complex like… Hey it's a nice day. Break out the villain starter kit and mince up the place."
"They are not," Chris agrees, "But they are perfectly shape for face insertion, which is their greatest purpose in existance." He eats the other half of his bun before digging back into his ramen. It's definitely not an elegant food to eat, but it is delicious. He frowns a little bit and says, "I think we should do it anyway. If there's one thing I learned running away to California, it's that if you spend all your time living in fear, you're wasting time, you know? I lost a lot of time with my mom and brothers because I was trying to keep them safe, instead of letting them be part of my life. If people want to fly kites, they should fly kites. If nothing happens, great. If something does, that's why there are people like us."
Leo Fitz cannot argue the edibility of the bao bun. One can argue that exceptional genius is obtained through the ability to listen careful to what is being said and pull it apart for context. His nose wrinkles up jsut a bit with a smile by the end of it admitting, "what you lack in mylar alloy you are making up for in wisdom, mate. May's around the corner. It's gonna be nice. Maybe I can see about work sponsoring it or something. Not like we don't have the ability to write some of these folks. I mean there's jsut no guarantee they'll write back but that could be a lot of fun and, eh, laser drons if people try to come out and cut strings on people's kites." looking to Chris with a wry grin he adds obliquely, "If only we knew someone that could fly and get them back if anyhting goes wrong. Damn. Be convenient it would." Okay, Chris, you're right.
"Sure, I can be on kite rescue duty," Chris says with a little bit of a sidelong grin. "Just.. don't want to suit up if I don't have to too often. It still fucks with my had and gives me crazy headaches." He reaches up a bit and rubs a little at the back of his neck, as though remembering the last blurry visions that he got from the suit, and that language almost like a song, singing to him in a way he couldn't understand. Then he reaches over and grabs another bun. Those buns are in serious danger now that he's been given permission to nick them. Nom.
Leo Fitz at least makes enough to cover a serial bao habit if one forms. While his expression remains neutral and curious his brow furrows a bit nodding, "How has that been? With the… Headaches?" He considers the ongoing predicament and offers, "Have a … I guess friend of sorts. I know they. Sort of a fair study on dimensional things. He will tell you he's the world's foremost expert so there is caution with that. I'm curious if he doesn't have ideas for alleviating that though."
Christopher Powell shrugs his shoulders, "They come and go. Sometimes I have nightmares, or just weird dreams. It's worse after I fight with it." He picks up the spoon now that almost all of the noodles are gone and begins to drain the bowl of its broth, keeping his paws off the buns for the moment. He nods a bit to Fitz and says, "If your friend has any ideas, I wouldn't mind hearing them, if you trust him."
Leo Fitz grins, and then a bit wider resigned in the odd truth. "Weeeeell, I'm certain he'll have ideas and likely believe every one of them are right because they're his, but," there's that amusement of hope that feels good jsut to have again lingering, "He isn't without some brilliant ideas sooo yeah. I trust him. I eman, as much as I'm prone to trust anyone anymore I suppose." He stirrs his rice and wonders, "You know, I know you've been considering some things. You ever figure out what you wnat to do now that your'e back? School, job, anything?"
Christopher Powell grins a little bit lopsidedly, "That sort, huh? Alright, well, I mean, if he's justified then.. may as well figure out if he can tell us anything, right?" He finishes off the remainder of his soup and says, "I guess get a job, and try and save up for school, something that won't mind too much if I suddenly take off to like.. rescue loose kites, you know?" He fiddles a bit with his chopsticks. "Maybe something online."
Leo Fitz tries hard not to laugh and sort of makes it, "Ooooh you gotta meet him to really experience the event that is Noh-Varr, man. He's alright though. Kinda the sort that might offend the whole room while saving it tho. He means well." he's pretty sure. So far so good! He considers and said "Whaaaaaaaaaat if there was a way to sort of research saving kites fooooor a job? Might reinburse a bit for college too?"
Christopher Powell fiddles with his chopsticks some more, drumming them lightly against the side of his bowl until someone at the next table stares at him and he clears his throat, stopping the fiddling and focusing on Fitz and the conversation at hand. "Sounds like a.. uh.. character." Then he tips his head a little bit to one side and regards Fitz a little bit more curiously. "Research saving kites… as a job? I mean… I'm listening. I'm not sure there's college money in kite rescue, but.. hey.. it's more than the zero job I have now."
Leo Fitz looks around at the people people. While typically packed, the patrons mind their own business mostly talking about themselves to people waiting patiently to talk about themselves back. Leaning to rest his arms on the table he shrugs taking another bite. "Well in a way that's terrifically underrating my job? Eh, it's what I'm paid to do. SOrt of. Do research. And sometimes there's folks who look into some crazy things like flying kites. It's… actually kinda fun. A little dangerous but so is being a rubbish collector or fishing crabs."
Christopher Powell studies Fitz curiously and lsitnes to what he has to say. His food is done, and he's not rude enough to steal the last bun out of the bowl, so he folds his arms on the table in front of him and leans forward a little. "Research is cool. So are you like some sort of mad scientist inventor or something?" He grins a little bit.
Leo Fitz asks, "We want to get a few to go? Still have time to get some work on trying to work on the frame for our idea this way?" He does pick up the last bun and pulls out his wallet. Leather bi-fold, well the other wallet, and slides it across the table to Chris. Inside the flap is a metal bade with the SHIELD logo. The other side has his work ID card slid into the other side with his personal identification on it: Leopold James Fitz; Level 5. some other things that look like they'll scan under a reader and such sundry. Well. That answers that, but apparently he is comfortable enough with his friend to be truthful about it, not like he's a spy, but still.
Christopher Powell glances over toward the counter at the thought of getting more buns and then nods, "Yeah. I think we do." He grins and says, "I've got it," hopping up to his feet. Though he does happen to glance down into the bi-fold to note the information there, and both brows go up for a moment. He looks from that, to Fitz and then back again. "I'm not in trouble am I? If I am, I'm going to need more buns.."
Leo Fitz smiles, cheweing on teh bean bun shaking his head "'o, 'oo oor…" yeah talking with his mouth full and with an accent as thick as paste iis not helping. He swallowes and tries that again, "No, mate. You're not in trouble. You are, though, going to need more buns. Oh! the little… desserty ones too? They're delightful. Could fancy a couple of those." He does get busy bussing his space so they can pack to go. "Just saying simply that as far as crazy tech goes? Well we try to make sure it's humane and cool as possible."
When it seems that he is not, in fact, in trouble — Chris looks a bit relieved, taking in a breath and letting it out in a whoosh. Then, priorities shift, and buns take priority. So he moves up to the counter and he grabs some desserty buns, some beany buns, some pork buns, all the buns. They are all packed into a bag for him and he returns to the table, "So.. wow.. that's.. pretty damn cool. You know, I was with a group.. out on the west coast. We ah, tried to keep things humane and cool out there."
Leo Fitz is pocketing his offical ID by the time Chris is back arching an eyebrow, "Woah? Like… official team?" Is he geeking out a little bit? Why yes he is! He waits and turns to walk with Chris back to the little storage space Fitz rents to jsut work on small personal projects whcih includes kite assembly apparently. "Like real saving the neighbourhood level stuff? What was that like?" Yup. Fanboying. He never gets to go on exciting things and when he does he wishes he hadn't gone. Terrible.
"Um, yeah," Chris says as they walk along, carrying the bag of buns and some backup drinks for later. He glances over at Fitz and both brows knit together a little at his enthusiasm. "Dude you're.." he doesn't finish the sentence but nods a bit toward the bifold, and then says, "Yeah, the west coast Avengers. They took me in and helped me out right after I kind of made a mess here and had to move away. I did some stuff with them, but I decided to come home to my family. I missed them. I missed New York, and I was done running away."
Leo Fitz holds the door as they gather things to leave. he waits countering once boots his sidewalk, "Well, yeah. I am. Doesn't make it any less cool though. I'm not from the States. I'm not enthusiasm proprietary to the west coast." The mention of missing his mom hits home though, "Yeah. I've got to call mine. I took a couple months of my leave off to just go see her. She's good, but, I get it." Curious he can't help but comment, "Curious isn't it? Going back home after you've been on a couple runs always seems different when it's not changed at all?"
"It's changed," Chris says, and then looks down at the sidewalk, expression going a little distant. "But.. it's better now than it was, and that's a good thing. Mom and my brothers know now. No more secrets. No more hiding. This time if something happens, they won't be caught entirely by surprise. I almsot got them killed before I left because I was trying to protect them." He scuffs a little bit at the sidewalk as they walk along.
Leo Fitz wrinkles his nose making the face. It's an expression of peripheral understanding of the scope if failing the direct experience of it. "Yeah. Sometimes… Sometimes we make some shite choices for the right reasons. I'm glad they're not hurt. Oddly been thinking about that problem over the last few months. How do we do less damage in the act of preventing damage to something or someone else? It's… something no one's got the answer to." The goon nature of him pokes through again offering, "Look at Stark. He's a genius and still causes heaps of collateral damage. Good thing he can repair it but… I'd venture to say some of his science is able to be inexact at best, so, maybe sometimes there's no perfect? I'm rambling. You're supposed to stop me when I do that, ya know."
"Why would I do that?" Chris asks with a little bit of a sidelong grin at Fitz. "When you ramble I can just listen and don't have to talk. Not that I really mind talking, just that I like listening better." He gives Fitz just a little nudge with one elbow and then says, "But, I don't want to bring the mood down or anything.. let's talk about how we can make one of these suckers have hummingbird wings."
Leo Fitz turns red in the ears. Called. Out! The grin warms right back up and a hand finds Chris's shoulder with a squeeze. "If we can perfect it we can call in the order, pay by card, and have bao clipped to the device. Airlift lunch. Chris, you are giving me wonderful ideas."