2013.03.30 - Comfort Food In Brooklyn

Scenes from an Italian restaurant...
Late Saturday afternoon sees a lull in business before it picks back up again for the dinner crowd. Fern has just arrived about a half hour ago, changed into her uniform, and is biding time before her first table by doing some little tasks around the place. She's currently making sure all the sugar and artificial sweetener packet holders on the tables are filled. Several tables are occupied, and a couple other servers are seeing to those guests.

The restaurant itself is a little worn around the edges, but it has a reputation for homemade, 'real' food. The decor is pretty typical of an Italian restaurant, although there are a lot of family touches, and Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra and Louie Prima are among the mix played low in the background. Fern pads from table to table in a lovely mustard yellow dress that looks like it belongs in a 70s sitcom, legs covered by blue tights, and feet in dingy white sneakers that squeak lightly as she moves. She's got one eye on the door; their new hostess hasn't arrived for work yet.

The door opens and an unassuming man in a plain black business suit enters from the street. He's wearing a plain black tie today and removes his dark glasses as he enters, giving his eyes a moment to adjust from the daylight to the interior. He's carrying an Ipad, turned off at the moment, and the bells on the door jingle tinnily.

He glances around the interior and spots the only person working in the dining room at present, and gives her a nod. He lifts his chin a bit and asks, "Are you open right now?" His voice is a mellow baritone and his words are clear and precise. He steps aside from the doorway as he asks, not wanting to block the door.

Fern's head turns at the familiar jingle, and she jams the last few sugar packets into the table she's at before she moves toward the new arrival with a smile. "Afternoon, sir. We are, would you prefer a table or a booth?" Her eyes flicker briefly over the man as she grabs up a menu and a rolled napkin with silverware inside, like some useful gift.

Phil Coulson gives Fern a very brief smile at her response. "A booth would be excellent." He nods toward the back of the restaurant, a table near the kitchen and the bathrooms and back exit of the building. "Mind if I take that one?" Without really waiting for her to answer, he walks over, his movements brisk and takes a seat where he can watch both entrances to the building. It's not a really well lit seat he takes, and he just sort of blends in with the surroundings, despite being the only customer there. He puts his Ipad on the table and powers it on. He drums his fingers on the table once or twice and says, "I'll start with coffee, black coffee, if you don't mind." He turns his attention to his Ipad, angling it up on it's matte black cover so that only he can see it's contents.

Trailing a step behind, Fern's smile never falters. She's used to hurried businessmen, and this one isn't really as brusque and rude as many are. When he's seated she puts the silverware bundle and menu down for him, then shifts a step so there is no question that he has his privacy on his little gadget. "Absolutely, sir, I'll get that for you right away."

*squeak*squeak*squeak* She disappears into the kitchen, returning just a minute later with a steaming coffee cup. It's set down carefully, and she asks, her tone friendly, "Did you need some time with the menu?"

Phil doesn't bother with the menu, he's got his Yelp! app uploaded and running already and he's been perusing reviews. This place gets high ratings both for its service and its food, and less so for the decor. He hrms, and glances up at Fern, sliding his coffee cup a few inches to the right. "Is the owner in the kitchen right now?" he asks her. Then he tilts his head to one side as Fern goes about her business. He squints a little, apparently thinking hard. Then it comes to him, where he's seen this young woman before and waits for the reveal.

Fern looks curious at the inquiry, but not overly so. A lot of people want to meet Anita, but that's usually after they've eaten. She nods as she answers, animated and chipper, "She is. I'll fetch you some bread while you decide, and ask her to step out to say hello." Again, that brisk reverse on the ball of her foot, and she squeaks off. Not even a minute after Fern disappears through the swinging kitchen doors, a matronly woman is returning, heading for Phil's table. Her smile mirrors that of the waitress, and she speaks with a faint Italian accent, wiping her hands on her apron as she stops. "Fern told me you asked after the owner, sir. I'm Anita, I hope everything is satisfactory?" She frowns lightly, concerned, especially since he hasn't had anything that could really have gone wrong yet.

Phil Coulson smiles at the matronly owner show up at table side. "Ah, I must have made a mistake, I was told that when the owner was in the kitchen, the thing to order was pizza, but if not, the thing to order was the lasagna. But they said something about Julio?" He corrects himself "Excuse me, Julius... It's a lovely place you have here." he adds to Mama Anita. He turns his Ipad so she can see the app, and it's high rating for Anita Bella. "I should have known from the name of the place though... Sorry for troubling you. I was just asking to inform my order. I tell you what, why don't you surprise me, as long as I can get a side salad to start?" He takes a deep inhalation through his nose. "I can already tell that your Rosemary bread is going to live up to its reputation." He turns his Ipad back and closes the application.

Anita turns her head to look at the device, her smile warming even further. "Julius, that's my husband and you're no trouble at all. Oh, such nonsense," she says lightly with a cluck of her tongue. "Customers are the most important thing. Julius won't be in for a bit yet, but we'll get you set, don't you worry. You're so kind, thank you." She's the kind of woman to whom everyone is family, and Phil gets a warm pat to the shoulder as she thanks him. "I'll have Fern right back out for you." There's a lightness to Anita's step as she goes back to the kitchen. Nice customers always remind her what she loves about what she does." Fern must have been watching through the gap in the doors, because she's pushing through the doors before Anita reaches them, holding one open for her boss. With a nod and a soft murmur from the older woman, Fern's questioningly lifted eyebrow eases, and her smile is back, easily curving her lips. Carrying a tray balanced on one hand, she pauses back at the gentleman's table, setting out a basket of rosemary bread, butter, and a glass of water. "Your salad will be right up," she offers, not moving away immediately.

... and a little plate, of course.

Agent Coulson makes room for all his new table accessories and decides that discretion is the better part of valor with regards to his Ipad and slides it next to him, out of the way. As Fern is putting down the little bread plate he nods and covers his mouth a bit, pretending to cough.

He clears his throat and reaches for the glass of water. Before he takes a sip though, and before Fern turns away he says quietly, pitching his voice so she'll be the only one to hear, he utters the words. "Ronnie of the Mounties." He then takes his sip and watches her for her reaction.

The reaction to Phil's low words is instant and almost comically theatrical. Blue eyes widen and Fern looks absolutely horrified. Then she bursts into a laugh, bringing her free hand up quickly to stifle it. Her eyes, no longer in danger of popping out of her head, look truly amused. "So few people ever attended that, I never imagined I'd run into anyone. Please, let me offer you my deepest apologies."

Phil just chuckles and says, "I almost did ask for my money back, but since you were clearly not the person in charge, I can hardly hold you responsible. I'd never have wandered into that club basement if the show I had meant to see hadn't been cancelled. You were the only redeeming thing about that terrible, terrible show. I'll never have those ninety minutes back though. Shame I had to remember them in the first place. You should demand script approval from your agent."

Fern blushes, both at the badness of she show and the gentleman's kind words. "Thank you, that's very nice of you to say. I'll do what I can with your meal to beg your forgiveness for the loss of that time." After torturing him for 90 minutes with that off off off Broadway disaster, she can make up for it with good service. She tips her head, still very much amused, "I'll get started on that right now." With another soft laugh she goes to get one side salad.

Some folks deal with funerals in their own odd ways. The formal service and formal attire and all is one thing, but afterwards, the way folks handle send-offs are totally varied and sometimes quirky. Carol finished the service and then went to change and headed out on her crotch rocket of a motorcycle. The agent was one she had served with once or twice, and she visited a site where the guy had helped her out of a jam, where she buried a Saint medal to commemorate the event.

That done, she would have gone for a drink and was literally pulling on her helmet when it hit her... right, AA. So, a bite to eat at the agent's favorite place to grab a sandwich. Another way to remember him. See, Carol's lost many friends in her history of service and such... and she's got ways to cope without going into depression and such. So it is that her bike pulls up... conveniently, to this place, and she steps off, removing her helmet and stepping inside after securing the bike with her alarm activation fob.

The jingle of the door chime naturally draws Phil's gaze. His eyebrows shoot up a little. "Carol?" he calls from the back booth of the restaurant. "What's it been? Thirty... forty minutes?" He stands and invites her over to his table with a jerk of his head. "Join me, why don't you? I hear they do great comfort food here." He's being a little louder than normal, making sure that the people in the kitchen know he and a friend have met. "I've been hoping to have some time to talk to you after... the stuff that happened last week," he finishes rather cryptically, and offers Carol her choice of seats. As long as he can keep watching the exits.

Halfway out the kitchen door, Fern spies the woman joining Phil and she immediately steps backwards, letting the door swing shut again. As the pair exchange greetings Fern is busy working with Anita to accommodate the new arrival. When she pushes through the door again there is more on her tray than a single side salad. She approaches more slowly, letting them talk a moment, then interjects softly, "Beg pardon, welcome, Ma'am." Fern glances at the woman from closer up, and she pauses, a frown barely touching her lips, before her smile is back as if it'd never slipped. "Your salad, sir. And we thought you might just like a salad as well," she offers, setting it near Carol, along with napkin-rolled silverware. She has also brought more bread and butter, another bread plate, and an additional glass of water. "May I get you something to drink, Ma'am." Fern takes a moment to look at the woman more directly in the guise of waiting for instructions, but something about her looks vaguely familiar.

Well, she's not in costume, but Carol is in about as civilian dress as it gets. She reaches up to unzip her leather jacket and offers a polite smile to Fern even as she gives a wave of recognition to Phil. She slides into a seat and says up to Fern. "A couple months ago, I'd have asked for a beer, but... let's go with Iced Tea shall we?" And she looks down to the salad, "And thanks, that's perfect. All I need to go with this is a burger, cooked medium, juicy and greasy as it comes please." she adds with a smirk.

Agent Coulson sits back down in front of his salad. "Really? A burger in an Italian place? Some things never change." He just snorts a little, and takes a sip of his coffee. "You're looking... well, Carol. We didn't really get a chance to talk much at the service." His eyes flick toward the cemetery they'd both just visited. A sad day indeed. "I'm glad we bumped into each other. The big man gave me a project, and I'm going to need some serious help on this one, once the legwork is done. Will you have time to meet with Steve and me sometime soon?"

"Well, I learned the burger trick from Agent Daniels. I was as much a disbeliever as you are, but he's the one who turned me on to their burgers. Apparently, they're seasoned just right and fantastic here." offers Carol with a shrug as she slips out of the jacket, just her black teeshirt now. Nope, not in formal attire. She changed out of the monkey suit it seems. "I figured this would be a good way to give'im a sendoff, let'im watch me eat his favorite burger."

And then Phil starts talking about other work stuff. She shrugs, "Name the time. I'm not really doing a whole lot. I kinda burned a few bridges a couple months back, and I'm still trying to get back on the Old Man's good side. But.. showing up drunk as a skunk wasn't really the smartest thing I've ever done." she adds, grimacing.

Fern nods dutifully, not quite placing the woman to the incident at Battery Park, but there's still that little 'where have I seen her before?' question buzzing in her head. "Iced tea and a burger, medium, juicy and greasy. Absolutely." It's an order they really only get from one regular customer, but they always strive to please all the customers without question. She's gone to let the pair talk, returning soon with the iced tea, later with their meals, including lasagna for Phil.

Phil Coulson nods. "That... actually sounds like a good idea. I'll have to come back and try their burgers. Maybe I'll get lucky and they'll send me out one now, I told them to treat me right. But seriously, this isn't the place, or more importantly the time to talk about business like that. Even if the job never stops." He raises his coffee to Carol so they can clink glasses. "To Mike Daniels, may he be remembered forever." CLINK! It's not exactly kosher to drink a toast with those beverages, but Phil's not about to recommend an actual drink to Carol, and he could be on duty at any moment, so generally refrains. "Damn few like 'im."

"Absent friends... and you're right. Damn few." remarks Carol, the old military toast bringing back memories. She clinks glasses and goes quiet for a moment, reciting a small litany of names of those she's toasted in the past with the same words. A deep breath is taken before she leans back in her seat. "So yeah, anything I can do, you name it."

Phil Coulson powers up an app on his Ipad, activating a white noise electronic field. It's subtle, but certainly enough for any bugs or listening devices that may be casually oriented on them. He also switches to speaking German. "We need a contingency plan to be able to address a situation like the one that just happened. One that doesn't necessarily rely on meta's." He sips his coffee. "The meteorite fragments they used to deal with the threat are in short supply. If someone or something had been able to duplicate Kryptonians on a wider scale, we could have been been in a lot more trouble. Fury's tasked me with putting together a plan." He frowns at this and swallows more of his plain black coffee. He smiles at Fern briefly as she swings by with a refill. "So... Step one, interview everyone that was involved. Step two, get that intel to a planning team. Right now, that's you, me and Steve. If you can think of anyone else we should bring onboard, we'll open it up for discussion." His shoulders slump a little at the immensity of the task. "As if we didn't have enough crap to deal with these days..."

Switching to German just as easily, Carol shakes her head. "Well, from what I understand, the entire concept of how their abilities work here is based on their absorption of solar energy. Now, I'm something of a specialist on energy absorption. So if we could come up with a way to drain that energy out of them, or block them from being able to absorb it in the first place... " she lets her words hang there as she takes a sip of her iced tea and just shrugs her shoulders. "Or maybe... some sort of energy weapon that causes a frequency shift or disruption of the energy they have -already- absorbed... I've always been a fan of trying to operate outside the box, and that strikes me as a more achievable thing. Unless... those meteor fragments only worked because of the radiation they gave off. If we could duplicate the radiation itself... the frequency or whatnot... without actually having the fragments available..."

Phil nods. "I think that's a great place to start. If Kryptonians gather their powers from the radiation of a yellow sun, what happens if we put filters in orbit to replicate the radiation of a Red Sun. Or maybe...." Their meals arrive, hot and delicious. Phil breaks some rosemary bread and pushes his mostly untouched salad aside.

Phil continues to speculate. "What would happen if of, instead of replicating the rays of a yellow sun, what would happen to normal humans if we forced a phase shift in solar radiation to that of a Blue sun?" He swirls the piece of bread in the sauce and pops it in his mouth chewing thoughtfully.

"Honestly, I think the problem there is that the entire world works on the current yellow sun radiation. You change that, and imagine how the plantlife here will react. Photosynthesis is a very delicate process as it is... let's not screw with it, eh?" asks Carol as she reaches for a fry and dips it in... well, alfredo sauce. Why not?

"I think the best thing would be a disruption device, even if it was some orbital cannon to disrupt on a massive scale. Rather than filters to screw over our plantlife. What's the use in saving the world if it dies because of what we did?"

Agent Coulson scratches the back of his head as he ponders some more. "I'm not sure about that. I think we'll have to consult with a biologist, but my understanding of the photosynthesis reaction was that it wasn't directly predicated on yellow light, in fact, blue and red spectrum affect plant growth cycles differently, blue being more beneficial for growth to maturity, with red spectrums more in demand for maturity to harvest. Note to self: Include biologist on team." He takes a bite of his lasagna and inhales its cheesy goodness. "I think we're just taking guesses in the dark right now. And you know Fury. He won't want just *one* answer, he'll want plans A-C and possibly on through Q or Z. I think the artificial duplication of the radiation wavelength is our most promising play, but I'm not averse to investigating some sort of solar filter that we can put up and take down after we're done with it. Orbital cannon is a good idea. Probably want a Moon based cannon as well, as a backup to that." He finishes his coffee and starts on his glass of water, ice half melted and clinking softly in the glass.

"Well, right, I'm not a biologist, so just going with layman knowledge. For all I know, a filter could be good for the world, but... it would seem to me that changing the light of the sun could be a bad thing if it was a worldwide thing. But yes, I'm familiar with the idea of contingency plans." offers Carol. She leans back and reaches for her burger. The first bite is just as juicy and greasy as promised, and the fact that it's an italian place that uses different cheese... most notably mozzarella and provolone cheeses, makes it better.

"I think that energy cannons divvied out as squad support weapons would work, man portable, but heavier and more powerful than just some handheld device. What we need to remember though is that they are -fast-. Energy or no energy, they could dodge right out of the path of a beam before it hits them. Hence why I think long range orbital radiation or disruption would be the best play. Something they wouldn't see coming till it hit."

And then a thought strikes her, "Oh! Or maybe even if we could get ahold of some of the actual meteor fragments, and load'em into like a giant EMP bomb. Imagine an alien energy radiation bomb that could blanket a whole city."

Phil finishes another bite of lasagna, it's like he can't stop shoveling it into his yap at this point, it's so good. "Mmm. Mmm!" he nods along as she talks. "The radiation filters aren't meant to be a permanent solution, just a leveling of the playing field so our boys have a chance." Fern stops by with a pitcher of ice tea and more coffee for Phil as they talk and eat.

"Like a.... neutron bomb for Kryptonians, something specifically targeted to their biological systems. A lot of stuff could be done with the actual rock that hurts them, if you ask me. A simple grenade laced with the stuff ground up would make for a lethal attack. Note to pursue: Find out how much of that rare material is actually on the planet, and where can we start stockpiling it?" He blows on his steaming mug of coffee, squinting off into the distance over Carol's shoulder, deep in thought. He takes a moment and says, "Crap. I said this wasn't the time or the place and we get right to work. We're pretty screwed up, Carol." This last is said as he looks into her eyes for the first time since she sat down.

Her eyes are a startlingly clear blue. Blue eyes, blonde hair. It's like someone recruited her to be a poster child for the female agent. Then again.. a career like hers didn't come from looks. "I understand. On the job -is- the mindset. Trust me, agent and costumed do-gooder... I'm never really off duty." She smirks a bit, the sides of her eyes crinkling up. Yup, she's just hit her thirties, but aging well.

"But I think we need to analyze the energy given off by the fragments and try to duplicate it. I mean... odds are there's not enough of the fragments on the planet to make for a whole... set of plans."

Agent Coulson nods and sips his coffee. "You know... that's something that Agent Daniels would totally get. Us working instead of grieving. He knew the job. He knew the life." He takes a small bite of lasagna and decides that he's had enough. His phone rings inside his jacket. He picks up the phone and answers it in English. "Coulson here."

"Thank you very much. Tell him I'll be there within an hour, hour and a half," he says into the phone. He glances back over to Carol and squints a little. He nods. "Always on call. That's the life." He turns off the phone and looks down at his meal. "That was one of the leads I need to follow up on. I need to make another call."

He dials a few digits. "I need a car at this location." He waits a little longer and then says, "I'll see you in ten." He flags down Fern the waitress and pulls out his American Express card. "Lunch is on me, Carol." He knows she knows who's really paying for it.

"Hey, the online review told me nothing but rave things about the cannoli here. We'll take a couple while I finish my coffee and I'd like to take another, what two, no three orders to go." He finishes his water and pushes the dirty dishes to the side. "Well, I'm glad you're on board, Carol." He checks the number he has on his phone for her. "Is this number still current?"

"Yep, won't change unless it hasta. I ain't gonna memorize a new one, that's for sure." Smart, but not good at memorizing things sometimes. Like most folks... "But yeah, I think Mike would kick both our butts if we didn't just do our jobs. I ever tell you about the time he saved -my- ass?" She shakes her head. Carol is definitely not some formal lady... tomboy is an understatement. "Let's just say, he literally shot a giant stone golem in the eye to distract it before it could impale me on a stop sign."

Fern returns with canolli, and a couple of 'to go' boxes. Paper boxes, not Styrofoam, taped shut. She also has Phil's card and receipt to sign. Phil thanks her and asks that she thank Anita for him as well. When she departs he looks down at the plates of canolli she brought, delicately dipped in chocolate and dusted with hazelnuts. "Those look good."

He looks up at Carol again and shakes his head. "I read about it in an after action report, but he never mentioned it. That's good to know. You should have seen the time we went up against some AIM robots. He commandeered a dump truck and rammed a twelve foot robot into the East River. He was a hell of a guy."

He takes one canolli and salutes Carol with it. He takes a bite, intending on gulping and dashing. He blinks as he takes a bite and slows down. Long enough to really savor what he's tasting. "I think I know why this was Mike's favorite burger joint." He finishes the last of it with relish and leaves the rest on the plate. He grabs his card and his Ipad. "I've got to hit the road, Carol, I'll be in touch."

To suit the atmosphere, Carol just says, "Ciao." Sure, she speaks the language, but figures it's more fun to get it wrong from time to time. "Be well Coulson. I'm gonna take my time finishing the burger and reminiscing here."

Phil Coulson heads out onto the street and his waiting car.