2019-11-14 - Pinky Swear


Betty checks in on the once garou Rogers.

Log Info:

Storyteller: {$storyteller}
Date: November 14th, 2019
Location: Cold Stone Creamery, Brooklyn, NYC

Related Logs


Theme Song



The 'rrrrr' of his cellphone vibrating interrupted the low-volume electro-swing swirling around Steve's desk at the Triskelion. Eyebrowing, he'd reached out and picked up the phone, knowing it had been forwarded through from his desk phone — this, corded, he has to one ear, and he's currently talking through the latest blood test results:

Negative for lycanthropy, of course, the virus all but scourged from his system by the death of the leader of the Silverfang Gang.

Still within the adjustment period, however, from the curse's rapid stripping from his body, Steve's pleased to see the talk-to-text message on his cell's screen. Ice cream? He glances to the window, marking the fall of the night and noting the month…and not caring. Ice cream sounds like a frivilous wonderment right now.

As such, he texts back to Betty about the location to meet — Cold Stone Creamery in Brooklyn — and he's there quickly enough given the hour via his motorcycle.

In a black stocking cap and a lush forest-green scarf wrapped thrice about his throat with length to hang down his front, the Captain is seated at a two-person table by the window, all the better to watch for the young reporter. Beneath his dark-brown shearling-lined jacket, his shirt is thin-lined plaid in hues of cloudy-blue overtop white. Combat boots beneath his jeans protect against the cold. He's…fairly inconspicuous, though the two staff members behind the counter are definitely side-eyeing him and wondering.

Betty Brant wasn't too far away herself. Dressed more so for the weather herself in a hugging duster of vibrant red, she moves into the shop and gives a shake of her head. Tucking strands of golden-bronze behind the shell of her ear, she casts her hazel gaze about the shop. Finding Steve, the woman smiles and moves his way, her fingers giving a tug at the gloves on her hands. "Hey, honey." She greets sweetly, leaning down and hugging around his broad shoulders before taking a seat. "Sorry I'm late, foot traffic is getting a lil crazy out there."

Folding up her gloves, she slips them into her jacket pocket. "I didn't pull you away from anything important did I?"

"It is that time of year," agrees Steve of the number of folks on the sidewalks even late at night. The lure of the decorated windows displaying all sorts of Christmas cheer (before Thanksgiving, oy) is real. He shakes his head at her question. "No, nothing important. I would've been at my desk otherwise 'nd while I don't mind paperwork, I mind paperwork past 6pm, if 'm being honest."

He gives her a small smile. "What'd'you want? It's on me," the Captain says of the ice cream selections even as he rises to his feet and gestures towards the long counter with its glass displays of…so very many flavors, it impresses even him.

Betty Brant moves to stand with him. "I understand. Can't say much about that, though. I never stop writing sometimes. Or at least it feels that way." Smiling she follows after, only then to place her hand on his wrist. "Oh no you don't, I'm paying for this. You pick what you'd like." She declares and moves up to the counter. "Hello! Yes, I'd like some Birthday Cake, please, with some crushed cookies. Thank you!" Moving along the queue, she nestles in before Steve can and pulls out some cash - enough to cover the sweets and add in a tip.

Taking her cup, she moves back to the table and starts digging in with her tiny spoon. "So, I'm going to admit that I've been worried about you. Especially after what happened the other night."

Steve's eyebrows lift at her insistence. "Far be it from me to argue otherwise." His tone remains friendly regardless. After Betty puts her order in, he places his own after scanning along the length of placards set before the tubs. "Peppermint, please, with Oreos, in a cup." It's not a lot of ice cream, but with the weather, the Captain doesn't tend to indulge in cold things. Too much time in the ice, after all.

The chair at the table creaks slightly as he sits, but it can be blamed on his build. True-blues look up from rifling around for a near-whole chunk of cookie at her comment. His smile is nonchalant as his reply.

"You're kind, Betty. There's nothin' to worry about. Problem's all solved." Far more quietly, he adds, "No more lycanthropy. We got the alpha of the pack. Everybody who'd been bitten turned back once he was dealt with. 'm normal again." There's still a wry twist to the word 'normal'.

"Last time you told me you'd be fine and didn't need my help…we ended up in that alley way." She murmurs, dragging the spoon out of her mouth. "With bullets. And puppos." Another mouthful, her serving was rather massive compared to his. She has no shame in it.

Then her brows knit. "The Alpha? So…like old stories of how to deal with vampires?" Reaching over, she takes a few paper napkins and sets them under her cup. Then she eyes the man, directly, unblinking, stoic in expression. "You promise me you're fine now?" Stabbing her spoon into her sweets, she sets her hand out and offers him out her pinky. This was serious.

Steve's eyes fall to the pinkie finger and then rise to Betty's face. Then, he reaches out and briefly interlocks smallest finger with hers, careful as to not use too much force. Pulling his hand away, he returns to digging out the large chunk of cookie from the ice cream like an archaeologist after a dinosaur skull.

"Fine as can be, given the results of the situation's resolution. There'll be a habit or two to break, but those are easy. It'll be nice not to be spending so much of the grocery bill on rare beef. Still gotta figure out what to do with the rest frozen in the freezer. Maybe spaghetti sauce or goulash, things that can be defrosted on the fly," he muses to himself while looking down at his peppermint ice cream.

Once their digits hook, the woman smiles gently and gives it a shake. "Good." Hand down, she continues with her own cookie-search. "Could do. Maybe have a dinner or donate it to a kitchen? I know it's not turkey, but it could be useful." Shifting in her seat, she looks him over curiously before asking. "Hey, is everything ok at home? I mean, your hubby. He alright with everything that went down? Did he know?"

"That's an idea, a kitchen. I bet I can find someplace that'd take most of it, probably could work it in the process." Steve nods to himself, his eyes temporarily distant as he mentally files away the notation to be reviewed later with Bucky once he's returned home. His gaze sharpens on Betty again and slowly, a knowing slant of a smile appears.

Momentarily, his lips roll as he glances down at his dessert. "Buck knew the night the bite happened. Took me to the hospital, fielded the first few shifts when they happened. He took part in the raid, made certain the alpha wasn't getting up again. Dunno about the whole vampire bit," he says, briefly swinging back to her earlier question. "Magic's not my forte. Nice that it was as easy as locating the source 'nd not some…quest to find a lost dagger in the mountains of Eastern Europe or something like that."

A little shrug. "Regardless, things're fine at home, yes. Not the weirdest thing we've had to deal with in our long lives." Steve spoons up ice cream into his mouth now. He located the motherload of cookies after all.

"Who knows. Most of what I'm learning about this world is so odd. So things are true, other's aren't. Either way, I'm glad you're both alright and I'm glad things are settled." Fading into the silence of comfortable icecream destruction, she keeps whatever thoughts she may have had off the tip of her tongue. She's slow with her food, taking her time and enjoying the company.

"May I ask you something weird?"

There appears to be no uncomfortable pressure about Steve at all. He continues to keep up his silent excavations of his cup of ice cream, appreciating the Oreo crumbles mixed into the white base. It's delightful crunching into the tidbits of briskly-minty pink candy; red and white does tend to blend under stirring, after all.

He looks up again. "Sure, Betty, you can. On or off the books?" Defining the nature of the question does seem to matter enough to warrant asking, apparently, though the Captain continues giving the young woman his calm, focused attention regardless. There's no ire to be seen.

"Off. I always meant to track you down for that interview. Now that things aren't so…Universal Pictures, I might." Winking in promise, she continues sampling her own mix with all of its faux-cakey goodness. "Well, I'm trying a few things out that I never have before. One of them being dating a nice guy." Pink in cheek, she clears her throat. "This is weird to ask seeing you are who you are. I use to be a fan of yours when I was younger. Well, not use to, I still am. My mom had the biggest crush on you, too." She admits with a chuckle.

"So…you being a friend is just…odd. I find it hard to simply call you Steve." Licking her lips briefly, she sits back and sets her eyes on him. "Do you…do you and your husband still go on dates? Would you, I don't know, be up for a double date?"

Admittedly, the Captain can't help his eyebrows dancing up at the task Betty's set for herself. He pinks a little at the tips of his ears in sympathy for her pleight, but doesn't do much else than barely tuck his chin. It gives him an air of listening rather keenly now.

Swirling the spoon through his dessert, the motion comes to a complete halt at her question. "…oh. Heh." The pink spoon is left standing aright as he reaches to rub at his neck, beneath his ear, a habit long-standing. "We still go on dates when we can, yeah. Been…impossible lately, but no better time than the present. 'm good for it. I'll check with Buck 'nd get back to you. He's more a homebody than I am." Steve reaches for the spoon again. "Do I know who you're intending to bring along?"

"Well…maybe we can have dinner at someone's house? You still need to show me some nice places around these parts." She smirks and clears her throat, going back to her icecream as a lovely distraction. "Hmm? Oh, I'm not sure. He's a known name for what he does for work. Doctor Henry McCoy? I'm never sure who he knows or what not, but you hero types hang out together, don't you?" She assumes jokingly.

"I know Doctor McCoy, yes," the super-soldier confirms. "I've met him briefly. He seemed like a nice guy all around. Looking forwards to seeing him again." A large portion of the ice cream disappears and he mulls it around briefly before clearing his throat.

"I'll see how Buck feels about hosting. If it's a no-go, we'll meet at one of the best Italian restaurants in Brooklyn. They keep a table for me 'nd Buck, it'd be a snap to get a reservation made."

"He is. He's so nice it scares me." She admits, finding the words falling from her lips before she relizes it. Going quite, she returns to her icecream - sadly, it's gone before she knows it. Spoon to cup, she sets the container aside to be tossed out later. "That sounds nice. You know how to get ahold of me if we things need to change." Chuckling, she chews at the inside of her cheek. "Ah, ok, getting awkward now. Ok, my weakness is showing so! Back to you - as long as you're alright and you know that you can call me if you need anything, you'll let me know? I wanted to check in on you and your husband."

Betty gets a friendly smile as she diverts into her ice cream cup.

"'m glad to hear the Doctor's nice," he says quietly before allowing her the privacy of finishing dessert. He too makes to completely clear the cup of its minty-sweet contents and finds himself a spoonful or two behind his tablemate. Comfortably leaned back in his chair, he scrapes at the bottom of the cup as he glances up at her.

"I know I can call you, yes, 'nd I'll pass on word to Buck that he can contact you as well if need be. We appreciate your concern, really. Don't want that sounding trite — it's true. Nice to know we've got contacts that include you."

Betty Brant chuckles and nods, seeming to finally settle. "Good. I appreciate that. I mean…damn. I'm friends with," falling silent, she leans closer, cupping her mouth. "Captain America." Sitting back, she giggles. "Who the hell could have seen that ever happening?"

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