[ EVENT: WAKANDAN SPACE PROGRAMME LAUNCH ] [ LOCATION: WAKANDAN EMBASSY ]

          Morbid curiosity and scepticism had drawn Quentin to the venue. While he likes a good show-and-tell  session as much as the next person, 'prototype'  be damned - spare him the need to overly gloat on an achievement that has yet to provide tangible results outside the realm of the conceptualisation and development stages of R&D. Armed with a plethora of probing questions Beck had prepared beforehand for Shuri, the engineer finds his focus waylaid with the abrupt interruption by the antagonistic kid - the brunet has very little interest ( read: none ) in the plights of mutantkind but a smirk twitches into place as the developer amusedly appreciates the youngster’s direct nature--- But the mood drastically shifts as the Dora Milaje's approach sees her solidified in her tracks, sheer blood-curdling panic descending over the crowd as the guard shatters into numerous fragments, steely eyes widening as the sudden gravity of the situation dawns on the man ( this city and its fucking super-freaks ).

@rescue-49 @harlems-hero

lastzenwhoberian‌:

          “𝕊𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜, 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥’𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕥.” He offers the woman an encouraging nod with her grasp of the Terran term, her inadequacy regarding it duly noted. “𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤. 𝕀𝕥 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕖.” Blue eyes flit towards the ground in measured uneasiness with Gamora’s oncoming series of questions, the man forcibly pushing himself to imagine the horrors that had been a part of the 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕠’𝕤 backstory.

                    “𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕪... 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤𝕟’𝕥 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕝𝕖𝕗𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖.” There’s the temptation to leave the standalone response but such is his penchant for attention, Beck can’t help but elaborate. “ℝ𝕖𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕔𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗--- 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕕𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕.”

rescue-49‌:

          Miss Potts’ pace is brisk ( despite her heels ), the junior developer pushing himself to keep up as they approach the contraption to zip down to the car park - Quentin wasn’t sure if it was purely his imagination or the ingenuity of the AI overseeing the building’s facilities, but the music would always be to his taste whenever he opted to use the elevator. It sounded a little different today ( perhaps due to his company..? ).

                    “That sounds nice. I’m always looking for new places to eat but I feel like somewhere new opens every week. It’s hard to keep track.” Beck offers a sheepish grin as they draw closer to the car, fingertips impatiently drumming against the protective encasing surrounding the slender formation of the tablet in-hand. A palm instinctively passes over the outline of his wallet within his pocket to ensure it was accounted for, injecting a small means of humour into the conversation as his tone grows lighter. “...although I’ve never really been one for salads, so I’ll take your word for it.”

mark-xlvl‌:

          As confident as Beck could be, there was always an element of hesitance with those around him, the junior developer hyperaware  of his actions and the potential outcomes in which they could elicit ( favourable or otherwise ). He wasn’t particularly a fan of surprises, presently opting for safer choices despite lofty aspirations - it would be some time before the young man would be comfortable within his own skin to push boundaries and make a stand. Carefully grappling with the box of pizza as the colleagues trundle up the stairway, Quentin raises a quizzical brow with the mention of the show that was currently so popular, silently blinking while trying to scrape the recesses of his mind for any information that could further the conversation - regardless of the voracity in which he consumed particular shows, the younger engineer draws a blank ( he didn’t waste his time on certain media ). “I take it you’re not a fan...?”

                    Scrambling through his pockets as they draw to his floor, the futurist’s concern about Beck’s living arrangement doesn’t go unnoticed, a faint hint of a smile drifting across the brunet’s lips - life in New York was very much one of independence, so it’s bizarrely jarring to find someone showing an interest ( perhaps he had been away from home for too long... ). “I don’t doubt that he is. One of the best,  I’d say.” The smile broadens and Quentin finds himself forcibly dragging his gaze away to focus on his door, sliding a key into the locking mechanism. “That’s real generous of you, Mr Stark. You’ve been so unbelievably helpful, I feel like I’d be imposing if I took you up on the offer. But thanks, I do appreciate it. Really.  I’ll be on my feet in no time.” There’s a brief pause as the developer’s forehead presses against the entrance with a grimace, voice muffled slightly as embarrassment takes hold. “I forgot to mention, my place is---”

           The door creaks open to reveal a cramped studio apartment with furniture predominantly occupying the space, additional boxes neatly stacked on the side with Beck’s personal belongings hindering the ability to freely move around. Squeezing past, he drops his keys into a bowl residing on a sideboard, an elongated brass tinged lava lamp settled besides it with dormant green and red liquid within. “---on the small  side. You couldn’t swing a cat in here. Please make yourself at home.” Placing the pizza on a coffee table near the couch, Quentin nudges it in the CEO’s direction, setting his laptop bag down to withdraw a lanyard with his SI ID. “Y’know, I always thought that was a weird expression. Who’d wanna do that to a cat...?” Approaching his PC setup nearby, the ID’s swept aside to reveal a slender formation deceptively resembling a commonplace flash drive - promptly inserted into one of the machine’s ports, a mechanism that hinders the workstation from booting up without the prerequisite of direct contact from the device is disabled ( paranoid much? ), the engineer logging onto the Stark Network.

morlockcal‌:

          “Trespassing... Cuius est solum, eius est usque ad coelum et ad inferos.” Beck mutters the Latin phrase, the vaguest hint of laughter threatening to emerge from the depths of his throat, held back purely due to the dank stench  of their immediate surroundings. There’s a minor shift of water underfoot as the developer takes a small step forwards, head canted to one side as steely eyes peer down at the woman. “I didn’t realise you held a deed  of sorts to all  the tunnels under Manhattan. You must have incredible  reach.”

atrxvido‌:

                    “𝕀’𝕞 𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕕𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤. 𝔸 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕕𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕪’𝕤 𝕦𝕟𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕕𝕦𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕖.”

atrxvido‌:

                    “𝕊𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪, 𝕀’𝕞 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥... 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤 - 𝕀’𝕞 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕒 𝕘𝕦𝕪 𝕥𝕣𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥, 𝕀’𝕞 𝕟𝕠 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣-𝕕𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕥.”

[ @madameofmasquerade - continued from x and x ]

          There was something about the manner in which Whitney comported herself - the way  she was lounging and nestled against the couch gave an air of inherent comfort, as if she belonged with Beck’s personal taste in decors ( a deadly accessory ). The thought amuses the villain, a smirk twitching into place as she further explains her musing - the song’s a classic, its grandiose ensemble in keeping with Beck’s penchant for flamboyant flair. He was starting to grow accustomed to the permanent use of the mask, subtle inclinations speaking volumes despite the lack of a shifting expression. Quentin sniggers amidst a sing-song lilt emerges in his voice, the man sinking into the couch in turn, a grey-clad arm extended to rest against the headrest as he allows himself to stop for a moment to relax - a sporadic luxury that was a byproduct of the bustling nature of his scheming.

                    “Easy come, easy go...” The developer scoffs as he considers the Avengers, his place within the ‘team’ bringing with it a certain degree of insight into the lives of ‘the other side.’  With a shake of his head, the brunet’s line of vision lingers up towards the lofty ceiling with a grimace, scarcely holding back his irritation. “You wouldn’t believe the level of incompetence  I have to tolerate with this good guy routine - a discussion can be in full swing, someone will walk into a room and---” A hand demonstratively slices through the air. “Absolute silence and awkward gazes abound due to ancient history that no one can work through. It’s like being in a Telenovela. I half expect music to play in the background as the lighting shifts...”

[ @rescue-49 - continued from x and x ]

          Quentin feels incredibly awkward within the seemingly prolonged moments in which Miss Potts shuffles through the paperwork, the junior developer unsure of what to do with his hands as he patiently waits for her to gather herself - settling on slipping one of them into his pocket as the other grapples with a tablet, he notes the use of the strong ( albeit somewhat archaic ) means of locking mechanism for the filing cabinet. While varied parts of the building had heightened multifaceted levels of security, sometimes old fashioned techniques were more effective to keep back prying eyes.

                    The thought slips away as she addresses him, a few careful steps taken forwards as the young man readies himself, an apologetic tone drifting across despite not being at fault in this situation. “No no, it’s alright...” A smile tugs at his lips with the strawberry blonde’s joke - while Beck considers offering one in return, their bond is still tentative so he initially opts against it. Letting the CEO take the lead of their journey, he enquires. “Do you have a preference of where to go..?”

captcincmerica‌:

          “It’s a quote--- never mind. Can’t expect everyone to be cultured around here.“