Summary:Morning at Sarah's apartment, as she and Pris catch up. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It's morning in Brooklyn. Specifically, in Sarah Black's apartment, where the early morning sun is making itself known through the blinds and past the curtains in the bedroom, and the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee is wafting in from the kitchen. Jonesy, Sarah's cat, trots into the room and leaps up onto the bed, to peer with head-tilted curiosity at the familiar form of his mistress' frequent overnight guest, still asleep. Moving closer to Pris, the feline says, inquisitively, "Mrow?"
Mrow indeed. Pris stirs a little, opening her purple eyes to peer at the cat with equal curiosity. "Morning, Jonesy." she murmurs, and even deigns to stretch out a hand to pet and then scritch the cat. Mmm. She hears those sounds, and smells the scent. She shifts position, leaning close to press her face into the cat's furry side. "Let's go see your person." she murmurs, scooping up the cat as she herself scoots off the bed, then pads barefoot out of the bedroom to seek the kitchen and the already-active person making noises in there. "Morning, honey." she offers as she and the cat come in.
Sarah looks up from where she's starting preliminaries toward breakfast on the center island counter in the kitchen, and smiles like the dawn. "Morning, love," she says to Pris. "Coffee's ready. How do scrambled eggs, sausage, and potatoes sound for breakfast? I know I'm a bit famished after last night." A bit of a playful smirk slips into her smile at that last bit.
"Well, Jonesy loves the idea, don't you Jonesy?" Pris murmurs in a lilting, teasing tone before walking up beside Sarah, brushing a kiss over her girlfriend's cheek and then lifting up the cat so he can whisker-tickle her in turn. Then she crouches down to let him go, aware that there's only so much 'like a living plushie' he's going to tolerate, and having no desire to be punctured in the process.
"I do love that you have as much of an appetite as I do. So 'here's a wee salad, oh, I'm full'." Pris murmurs as she stands back up. "How can I help?" she inquires. She's not super great shakes in the kitchen, but that has been because until recently she couldn't read the recipes; show her what to do, tell her aloud, and she's great. Hence gumbo to die for.
"I've got the eggs, but if you want to get the potatoes going, that would be lovely," Sarah replies. "There's a new bag of them in the freezer, and you know where the frying pans are. We'll do the sausage last — It comes out just fine in the microwave."
Collaborative breakfast-making ensues. Hardly the first time the lovers have done this, by this point.
"Potatoes … in the freezer?" Pris questions. But she doesn't argue, just opens the freezer to find said bag and get started. There will be chopping, and frying pan, and spices.
While the cooking efforts continue, conversation ensues. "How did you sleep?" Pris inquires, offering a little smile over her shoulder at the beautiful Brit.
"Wonderfully," Sarah answers, giving Pris an adoring smile in return. "Always do, when you're with me. It's just easier to be at peace, and quiet my mind and go to sleep, when I'm snuggled up with you." She pauses for just a moment to pay more attention to what she's doing, before adding, playfully, "And that's true even on nights when you haven't helped tire me out before that."
Pris grins impishly, an expression that can be heard in the tone of her voice when she replies. "Well, I rather enjoy both tiring you out, and snuggling up to help you sleep through the night." The mocha-skinned woman uses the spatula to move the chopped-up potatoes around to improve heating and browning. "I was very glad you were able to stay free last night to visit at the club. I know you've been busy at work, so it's nice to get you away from that for a bit."
"It's nice when the Things That Go Bump decide not to cause an all-hands crisis on a night when I've got plans," Sarah replies, with a laugh. "In case I didn't make it clear enough last night, I love your new routine. You made it very artistic and scorchingly hot at the same time. Seemed like the crowd agreed with me, too." Pausing to dish out the eggs onto the waiting plates, she then adds, "Speaking of work, though, I've got something for you. We were in such a hurry to get each other into bed last night that I forgot to mention it."
Pris continues working with the potatoes; coming up from frozen, they'll be just a bit longer but are coming along nicely. "Well, I did rather get the impression you appreciated the routine." she teases, more musement in her tone. "Admittedly, I couldn't tell at the time how much of that was just for me, and how much was for the new routine." Dating an empath does have its advantages. And sometimes disadvantages. "Still, I didn't mind one little bit. So, what have you got for me?" She's curious, since talk of work seemed to bring this up; Sarah rarely if ever brings up mention of details from work, since the rules say she's not supposed to do that.
"That delightful little spell-trap we dealt with? I got the forensics report back from the lab boys and girls," Sarah replies. "I can share it with you because I filed you as a CI — a confidential informant — on this case. You're not identified by name or anything else — that's what the 'confidential' part is all about. You just have a number in the system. A lot of the time, CIs are police officers or private detectives or the like, and we can be authorized to share intel that's of mutual interest, at our discretion. You pretty much fit under that umbrella, given your line of work."
Priscilla had no idea that Sarah could arrange matters like that, and it honestly eases her tension a bit to know that they have an option that allows them to work together on something like this without taking huge risks with Sarah's career; she has every idea how important that is to her. "OK. That sounds like a good plan. Didn't know that."
Pris turns the heat off and stirs the potatoes a bit more, sprinkling just a hint of cheese over the hashed browns before she then - quite on purpose - bumps the other woman's hips with hers and turns to dole out half to each of the plates being arranged. "So. What did the lab folks learn that we didn't?" she asks at last.
"It's hard to cultivate intel sources if you don't give anything back," Sarah explains. "There's too much going on in the world for us to only rely on our own eyes and ears, and sometimes 'outside help' just has access we don't." Taking the plates over to the table, she continues, "I have the whole thing on my computer, but the highlights are that they think they know, within a reasonable margin of error, where your guy went, when his toy teleported him out. And they're working up a profile on who made the thing."
Priscilla nods. "Makes sense." she offers regarding the intelligence gathering necessities of SHIELD's magic division. And likely all of SHIELD for all she knows.
Once they're seated at the table, orange juice and milk provided along with that freshly brewed coffee for Sarah's caffeine habit, Pris continues. "So. Allow me to guess. They figured out that the original casters included at least two rather interesting casters who used an alien alphabet and alien symbology to encode their spells. And a lot of power, including threaded Darkforce?" One might be excused for wondering how it is the girl who has had no magical training knows any of that.
Sarah's eyebrows rise just a bit at hearing that level of detail, but given the source of the magic in question, it's not a total surprise that Pris knows a bit about it. "Yes," she says, with a nod. "Or to quote Daryl from the lab, 'This is some nasty Dire Wraith shit.'"
Pris nods. "Yeah. Dire Wraiths suck." Oh, look: breakfast! Pris distracts herself for a bit just sampling nad appreciating the food. She really hates taking about the wraiths. It's a Thing (tm). "But you say they were able to get a bead on approximately where he ported to when he went through? That could be helpful."
Nodding, with a mouthful of food, it takes a moment before Sarah can answer. "Yes, I thought that was the part you'd be most immediately interested in. I can show you after we're done here — There's a map, with the highest-probability destination area marked, and then a larger area surrounding it that's possible, but less likely. They told me that if they'd been able to examine the thing before he went through, they'd probably have an exact arrival point, but that the enchantment degraded after being triggered, which makes perfect sense."
The non-agent nods in agreement. "That does make sense. They haven't survived this long by being stupidly reckless. They couldn't know you would show up, but I imagine they're starting to worry, since their magical traps have been less and less effective on me. They're probably going with the safe bet that I've been learning, and might manage to capture the device. So they'd want to make sure I wouldn't be able to use it to track them down, at least not quickly." Pris doesn't always show that 'alien-hunting ninja' side of her, but Sarah knows now; she has no need to hide it, even if it is a mite creepy.
Or, well, it might be 'a mite creepy' to most people. But most people weren't adopted and raised by a couple who happen to be MI-13 agents, and didn't then follow them into the 'family business'. To Sarah, that side of Pris isn't creepy, it's thrilling and a bit sexy, even. "They're good, yes," she says, smiling. "I'm confident we're better. And there are two 'we's there — One is work." She pauses, and looks into her beloved's eyes, before adding, "The other is you and me."
Pris smiles at her girlfriend. "True. I doubt they'll have left much of anything at the site. But we may find a clue or two. And I would be willing to bet the location will be close to another safehouse for their operations." And if they can find that, they can make more progress. Maybe even finally take out another of the Dire Wraiths hiding on the planet. "Just … do me a favor? Don't involve that Kree in this?" She remembers him all too well from the incident at the club many months ago. She is not a fan.