Steve fully understands his mistake when Q -how could Steve ever let himself slip- freezes in the doorway. They are, both of them, suspended in time, and the outcome of the moment is dependent on how stretched thin Q might be feeling that day. Being the most sought-after quartermaster in SHIELD is enough to run anyone ragged.
Steve drops his hand from the mantle as Q steps back and shuts the door. He doesn’t turn around, just stares at his glove-covered hand on the doorknob. Steve’s stomach attempts to flip as he lets himself focus on that detail. Q always boasts callous-covered fingers and work-roughened palms, no stranger to hard work where his inventions are concerned; he finds no shame in showing them off.
To have them hidden now, it’s a reminder of why Q is here in the first place. Steve knows those gloves; they’re elbow-length to protect the palm print, nitrile, custom fitted to Q’s exact specifications.
“I took the liberty of showing her out.”
Steve knows he’s an asshole, has known it since the first girl’s heart he’d broken his sophomore year in high school. He’s crossed the line, a line they both established at the beginning of their working relationship. He wonders absently how many bags Celeste had been carried out in, and how many times Q had apologized as he’d worked.
Steve also knows there’s a large bottle of whiskey in Q’s future. He wants to prevent that, has always wanted to prevent Q drowning out the memories of what he’s done for Steve, things that no other quartermaster would ever get their hands dirty doing. It’s a bond only Steve can claim with Q, and he will fight for that bond until he draws that last breath.
The expression on Q’s face when he finally turns around tells Steve that his last breath might be sooner than he anticipated.
“I’m sorry,” Q says, dangerously flat. The USB is clutched tight in his fist. “I don’t think I heard you correctly. What did you call me?”
Steve is the best damn operative SHIELD has in the field. He’s not afraid of his quartermaster. He’s not trying to guess how many different things Q can kill him with just by the foyer’s side table. He is, however, trying anticipate the landmines ahead of him.
You’d spent that night with Tommy and several since. There was a little Inn that was a drive out of London into the country. He’d taken you there the first time and every time after. Not once had he tried to draw information from you and not once had you offered it up.
It wasn’t until days after it’d happened that you found out Darby had met with Alfie Solomons.
“He doesn’t like that, Princess. We don’t call him a Jew or a fucking Kike, it’s what he is, I know, but we don’t say it. He’s got people everywhere; it’s like Chinese fucking whispers. He can’t take a joke, sweet, and he’s delicate on the matter.”
“What’s he got to do with the Eden?”
You were straddled over Darby’s hips in your slip. He’d mentioned Tommy and the Blinders, so you’d subtly slinked yourself into the position to tease out more detail.
“It’s about partnerships, relations. We go way back, me and Alfie. Old friends. We were just reconnecting over a mutual problem.”
That didn’t sit right with you, not when you knew Tommy and Alfie had been working together. He’d been buying bread, hadn’t he? Was Alfie about to double cross the Shelby’s?
For the street style favorite, it all boils down to good taste
His fans call him “Woost God.” Nick Wooster, short for Nickelson, is kind of a legend when it comes to great style. His impressive and wide-ranging list of creative roles include men’s fashion director at Barney’s and Neiman Marcus, design director at Ralph Lauren and trend development officer at JC Penney. Now a self-proclaimed free agent, Nick collaborates with brands like Lardini and frequents men’s fashion week in incredibly-styled outfits that draw the attention of every street style photographer around. He’s known for his perfectly-tailored suits and offbeat accessories like safety pins threaded through shirt buttonholes, not to mention his striking silvery facial hair. See some of Nick’s best looks from Men’s Fashion Week below and shop his closet with our similar picks.
I love the look of a 3 piece suit but rarely have an opportunity to wear one. I think something like this is a good compromise. The tweed vest, flannel (hopsack?) blazer and moleskin pants all have a good depth of color and texture, and reference the formality of a 3 piece, without actually being super formal. The olive color of the tie and the slight accent on the pocket square bring it together colorwise.
Stanley Blacker for Homicks Navy Blazer - $4
Tweed Waistcoat - Free
Oleg Cassini Gingham Button-Down - $2.50
“The Taylor Tie” by Wilson’s of Greenfield MA - $3