2012-11-03 Out of Limbo

Midtown is chaotic on the best of days, but at rush hour, it's practically a disaster. At least, that's Steve's opinion -- he's still getting used to just how much /more/ the city has become since the '40s. It was never a well-oiled machine or anything, but this... this is nuts.

Nuts though it may be, Steve has still set up shop at an outdoor cafe across from Grand Central Terminal. He's sitting all by his lonesome with a cup of what he has been repeatedly assured is a coffee, but it's going ignored in favor of the smallish sketchbook open in front of him. The terminal makes for a nice bit of sketching practice, and it's giving Steve some time to think.

"Go be less dead." That's what Anya said when Sam mentioned how he felt as though he were still dreaming today. He wasn't sure he wouldn't wake up and find himself locked in the drawer of a cold chamber or, worse, underground in a coffin. "Dude. You need to be around people. Like, normal people, not just us. Go get a burger or something, okay?"

So Sam's in Midtown Manhattan, hoping to soak up the reality. He's got his hands in his pockets, wandering aimlessly out of Grand Central Terminal. Just another stranger without much to make him stand out except for the way he looks like he walked out of a Farmer's Almanac and the fresh, raw scar like a remainder of a Halloween costume across his throat.

Misery loves company and today's company is Ben Reilly. The dark brown eyes of the teenager remain unfocused as the music blares through his ear-buds. They are hard to see as the blue bits match the color of the hoodie he wears. Add in the fact his hood is up, just makes the device that much harder to see. Like most teenagers when their heart hurts, Ben is listening to depressing music as his mind drifts.

The other night was Ben's first big defeat and it's hard for the teen to shake the events. Two broken webshooters, that are now fixed, a wounded heart, caused by a cat with white hair and her lover....a four-fingered David-Bowie enthusiast that says his name is Longshot and a wrist that still aches from time to time thanks to a dagger. Yeah, Ben is feeling pretty down in the dumps.

People pass him by as is leaned up against a wall mouthing the words, "I'm nothing from nowhere, I'm no one at all," yeah...being a clone is hard. Being a clone that kind of liked someone he probably shouldn't have, just makes it all a little worse. The black jeans and matching vans shoes make Ben one of two things, depending on who is watching him, either really easy to notice because dark colors stand out against white and gray colored walls, or really easy to fade into the background because he could be confused for a shadow and nothing more. Sadly, Ben is so caught up in everything he doesn't realize his train left twenty minutes ago...such is "Parker Luck."

It's been a busy day for Emma Frost, and it's not over yet. A morning full of meetings-- and making sure that her productive meeting at Stark Tower the other day hadn't yet been eclipsed by some more recent shiny project crossing the technologist's desk led to an extended shopping trip that has now let out into Midtown Center.

It's not really a typical stomping ground for the wealthy ocialite and CEO... but then again, Emma is soemthing of a force of nature, and goes where she likes. Where she likes right this second happens to be a couple of small shops in Midtown Center. She exits one of them, a bag looped over the crook of her arm while she slips on a pair of sunglasses and reaches into her jacket for her phone. She's in her usual today-- a white suit with an incongruous pair of canvas sneakers-- as she takes a moment to decide where she's headed next. Surely there is something that passes for real food in a place like this. Surely.

Sometimes strange things happen. Maybe it's fate. Maybe it's luck. Maybe it's because of something else. But what ever the reason, sometimes things just happen.

Case in point, right now Kate Bishop is at the same coffee shop as Steve, only she's a few tables over. She's in one of her usual outfits, something nice, expensive (but not too expensive) looking, and a bit on the casual side. And she's on her smart phone. Only for once she's actually using it as a phone as she speaks to someone inbetween sips of her coffee.

"Look, I promised I'd do this, so you don't have to worry. I'll be there. So short of some sort of major emergency, you can count on me..."

Having been a resident of this insane city for a while now, Pepper is so accustomed to the chaos of NYC traffic that she doesn't even notice it anymore. It also helps that she has the luxury of letting a driver do all the work while she uses the time to review her notes for a meeting. Yes, Stark Industries has access to all manner of private transportation, but sometimes the public transit system is simply the most efficient.

Looking up as the car pulls to a stop along the curb directly in front of the outdoor cafe, Stark's executive admin quickly puts her tablet computer into her shoulder bag. "How long until the train arrives?" At the driver's answer and a quick glance at her phone's clock, she realizes she might even have time to get a quick bite to eat before her train and moves to exit the Rolls. "Thank you, I'll be back here at five twenty. See you then?" With a last acknowledgement from the driver she steps out onto the sidewalk and hefts her bag onto her shoulder.

Sometimes, fate can be a funny thing. Steve is pretty oblivious when it comes to Kate and other random pedestrians, sadly, but when the car pulls up next to the cafe, he looks up and a glimmer of recognition flashes across his features.

"Miss Potts?" Steve rises from his chair -- it would be rude to remain seated when speaking to someone who isn't, after all -- and drops his pencil onto the open sketchbook. "I thought that was you. Waitin' on a train?" he asks, thumbing towards the station.

Well. Sam's pretty sure he's not dead. If he were, he wouldn't be looking at a Humanity's Last Stand flier, no matter where he'd ended up. He peels the flier off with a quick tug and folds it up without trying to read it beyond the iconic logo. There's a website on it, he'll see what they can do about it later.

Back to reality. Back to work. He'll grab a coffee and something to eat, take a picture to prove that he did, then head back to the Den. He pauses to let the pretty lady get out of the fancy car and greet her friend, then heads into the cafe.

Her friend looks a lot like Captain America, poster boy for... something. Unity, equality, the American Way. Sam wonders if that's actually working out for anyone like him. Still, no sense blaming the poster boy. From what Sam remembers from his Pa, people did really want to think that way at one point, about everyone... it'd be nice if that happened again.

Checking his MP3 player, Ben sighs realizing the time. He pulls his backpack, which is sitting at his feet, and slings it over a shoulder. Grabbing a train schedule the teen unfolds it and steps inside the coffee place. His brown eyes are searching the schedule as he waits in line. Pulling back his hood, the brown hair and matching eyes show with the rest of his face. If anyone had seen Peter Parker before they would guess he is here right now, but that's far from the truth.

When it is his turn Ben says in a low voice, "Mocha," before pulling out a crumpled up five and a few singles that are just as unkempt. Waiting a few moments, the teens scans the shop seeing two really successful looking females, judging by their dress, a blonde guy that is friends with one of the woman, and a sea of others from phone talkers to people that look...skeptical for being there. Ben just figures, this is typical New York and nothing more.

A cafe. Quaint. But it'll do for her purposes today. Emma actually breezes past Steve's table, with a polite, cultured "Good Afternoon Captain," in passing on her way inside. The blonde... well... she's clearly not used to anything so normal as standing in line for anything. It's dreadfully dull, and sends her attention wandering. Like, say, to Sam. She doesn't even have to try to skim his brain to catch what he's thinking-- the young man is not exactly guarded. "It would be nice, wouldn't it," she notes. "Perhaps you should talk with him. He seems quite approachable."

There are some faces that Kate Bishop would recognize anywhere. Steve might look familiar, but he is not such a face. Most of the others (Sorry, no insult intended) passing by or entering the shop would fall into the same category. But there is a face or two that the socialite does recognize. One she actually respects... And one that prompts her to just quirk an eyebrow at as she continues to talk on her phone.

Yes, Kate recognizes Pepper (but doesn't but in) if only because of her reputation. After all, anyone who works for Tony Stark like she does is worthy of respect. And Emma, as she enters the shop is the other, and well... Emma is Emma. Does anything else need to be said?

"Look, let me put it a different way." is said by Kate into her phone. "My father donated heavily last year based on my recommendation. He's not coming again this year. But I will be there. I might even be able to get my sister there. So please, stop pushing that."

Pepper Potts blinks and turns around to find the voice calling her name as the Rolls pulls away again, smiling apologetically to Sam and stepping out of his way before turning far enough to recognize the man rising from his table in the cafe. "Mr. Rogers, hi. It's been a while, how have you been?" She steps toward the seemingly younger man, offering her hand for a handshake. "Yes, I have a little time before I'm off to an afternoon meeting. I didn't interrupt your lunch or anything, did I?"

She might not be super smart or super fast, but she's learned how to be aware of her surroundings, taking her question about interrupting Steve as a chance to take a quick look around. There's a strangely familiar-looking young man purchasing coffee, and Ms. Frost just breezed by. She wasn't privy to the businesswoman's recent meeting with Tony (and yes, that still annoys her a bit), but that doesn't mean she hasn't read up on the Ice Queen. Well, that's her own mental nickname for the woman. Please just keep walking, please just keep walking. There's also a well-dressed young lady on the phone, but that almost doesn't register as the girl isn't instantly familiar.

When Emma breezes by, Steve's response is all but automatic; a respectful nod, a smile, and a politely voiced "Ma'am." He's long since gotten used to being recognized, and the notion that the person doing so might have been helped along by telepathy does not even occur to him.

Steve returns his focus to Pepper quickly enough, his brow furrowing slightly. Something seems off. Still... there's plenty going on in the woman's life that might account for that. "No, no, not at all. I'm well, thank you. A bit worried about Stark," he admits, his own expression growing troubled. "I was thinking I might drop by and see just how much the media's making up. Do you think that would be okay?"

Sam doesn't miss a beat when Emma cherrypicks his thoughts. All that time around Zen and other telepaths. "Wouldn't be polite to disturb the man when he's in his civvies," he says, gesturing for her to go ahead without thinking about it. It's polite. Once she gets what she wants, he'll get a large coffee and a chocolate-chip cookie. That should satisfy Anya. He'll send her proof of cookie.

He looks over his shoulder, scanning the cafe. "Besides, looks like he's got company." And Sam, himself, is terrible company today by his standards. Painfully polite for a New Yorker is a bad mood for Sam. But the Kentucky drawl and the redneck plaid and denim explains all that. "Don't think he can much control what happens in this place, anyway, nice as it would be if he could."

Sipping his mocha Ben slips to an empty table and looks over the schedule. People are drawing around the blonde man. They gravitate toward him like he has some sort of pull. The voice sounded a little familiar but Ben couldn't place a finger on it. Sometimes his memory plays tricks on him. Thinking you're somebody else creates chaos like no other. You would know strangers and think they should know you...when it's somebody else they know. Somebody else they care about...you just happen to have the same face as that guy. Ben just keeps his brown eyes on the crowd because...it's more interesting than the schedule.

Emma takes Sam's offer of going ahead of them like it's her due as a lady of privilege. "Thank you, dear. Medium Coffee. Columbian. Black. A blueberry muffin, two white chocolate macademia cookies in a bag," she orders in a quick, crisp fashion. The barrista opens her mouth and gets promptly cut off. "You have my order. Don't bother upselling me," she adds, pushing a clear plastic card across the counter to pay for it, as she turns her attention back to Sam. "It's quite astounding the weight a symbol carries with a populace, Samuel," she notes pointedly as she steps aside to give him his turn. "Especially one that does not realize it."

Pepper Potts's own expression darkens at Steve's mention of Tony's latest hijinks, even as she can't help but be very mildly relieved that Ms. Frost did indeed keep walking. "You know, that would be fantastic. He's been listening to me even less than usual lately, and," she takes a deep breath before continuing, "maybe a different voice of reason will have more effect." After Sam and Emma have both stepped by to purchase something from the cafe proper, she glances toward them briefly and decides against ordering something herself. She doesn't have THAT much time before her train.

Giving the young man she's nearly one hundred percent convinced is Peter Parker a brief glance of concern, she returns her attention to Steve. "You have my number already, right? Just give me a call when you're planning to come by and I'll be sure to meet you there. And I'll do my best to keep Tony from running away or hiding in his workshop." Two very likely possibilities, after all.

"Now, I don't wanna gang up on the guy," Steve laughs, holding up his hands. "If he /is/ in some kind of trouble, that could backfire pretty badly for all three of us. But I will definitely keep you posted," he promises. He gestures back at his table, oblivious to the other attention he's drawing from Ben, Sam, and Emma. "If you'd like to join me until you need to head to your meeting, you'd be welcome to. I'm just having some..." He glances back at his drink and hesitates. "...coffee."

Now, there's a tone Sam knows. And the use of his full name. "Let me guess," he says, taking his change back from the barrista and dropping it in the tip jar. "You're a teacher, right?" He gives Emma a smile that he actually feels.

The telepathy not only doesn't bother him--it's not as though he can stop a telepath anyway and those up to no good rarely broadcast their skills--but it's very familiar, a reminder of a happier, more innocent time. When his power was new and neither he nor any of his friends had ever been dead. If it weren't for that warm nostalgia, he'd feel awkward as hell about talking to someone like Emma.

Ben pulls out his phone and starts hitting buttons. The next train for him is going to take a while. "Wonder if Jubes sent me something," he mused quietly but not inaudible. No trouble, no nothing to do...all there is to do is wait. Normally Ben would love this opportunity...but only if he were at home. Sure all he would do is watch television, work out, read the latest stack of library books or something else equally mudane, Ben just enjoys the few moments he got. The superhero life is already taking a toll and as liberate as the costume can be, being Ben Reilly is nice for similar yet completely different liberations.

There's something about being identified as a teacher that makes Emma's demeanor thaw significantly and pulls a genuine smile out where Sam can see it. So much so that she even thanks the lowly cafe employee when her order's ready. "If a teaching credential and a school makes one so," she replies with a sort of dry humor. She nods her hed towards Steve. "Seriously, though. Care to say hello? The worst that can happen is he won't want to chat. More likely you meet someone new and useful to know later." In Emma's world, it is exactly that simple.

Pepper Potts hms, then nods at Steve. "You do have a point there. And I don't think he's in /trouble/, per se, just ... making decisions that I don't completely understand and not consulting me on them." She shakes her head, then smiles and nods an acceptance of the tall man's offer to join him until her train arrives. "Let me guess, you ended up with some exotic froufy thing. Make you a deal. I'll go buy a cup of plain coffee then trade you. Sound good?" Her expression is one of amused understanding.

"Sounds excellent, thank you. Just don't say you want coffee," Steve warns Pepper, his expression grave. "They gave me whipped cream." /Whipped cream/. On /coffee/. It's just as horrible as it sounds. "I'll be right here," he assures Pepper, taking a moment to pull another chair over to the table for her to claim when she's ready before he settles back into his own. Look at him, being social. Stark would be proud.

Steve reaches for his pencil and takes a quick, thoughtful look around. He could use something new to draw, gesture drawing is great practice... and man. Ben over there has /great/ hair. Steve doesn't change to a fresh page, just grabs a clear spot on his current one, and starts a-scribblin'.

Sam's never been one to pass up a little learning and Emma is offering him something new to learn. He'll take it. "Yes, ma'am, you're right," he says. "I'll come along. And thank you." What the hell, you only live... well, twice. So if he dies of embarrassment, he might come back.

"Sam Guthrie, by the way. But you know that. And I should probably know you but I'm afraid I don't pay too much attention to the papers." Not outside of the reports Sam gets that matter for 'work'.

Scrolling through his phone Ben sighs at the lack of messages. By now his moch is cool and he starts to drink. The mixture of chocolate and caffeine is blissful. Still, his own world could use a little brightness right about now. Eventually his brown eyes see the blonde hair guy looking at him and sketching a bit. Raising an eyebrow Ben eventually asks, "What are you drawing?" his voice sounds identical to one Peter Parker's.

"Emma Frost," she offers Sam in return, catching his hand in a brief shake. It's a delicate, slender hand with the sort of grip that implies someone used to weilding a lot of power comfortably. Not really a normal teacher's handshake at all. "Come, let's go meet the man," she adds, and leads the way, nodding politely to Pepper in passing. "Ms. Potts."

Some people are wary about approaching a figure like Captain America. Emma doesn't seem to believe the concept that she might be unwelcome anywhere, and slides smoothly into an open seat, letting Sam trail along. Confidence gets one everywhere. "Captain Rogers," she greets him without a hint of self-consciousness. "You're looking well, I must say. Pardon the intrusion, but I thought Samuel here would benefit from meeting you," she explains. Right to business, while setting her coffee and the cookie bag on the table so she can start to pick at her muffin. Emma Frost, everyone.

Pepper Potts chuckles softly at the warning about what to say to the barista, nodding and stepping over toward the cafe's counter. She returns Ms. Frost's nod as she goes, of course. "Ms. Frost." No telepathy here, just a hard-earned awareness of the NYC business landscape.

A moment after she hears the young man in the blue hoodie address Steve, she turns back sharply to study him and after a moment raises her eyebrows. She silently berates herself for having not recognized Parker sooner, then smiles at the barista. "Grande Classic Joe, Colombian medium roast, black. Please." She pulls her wallet from her bag to pay for the beverage, her attention (but not her eyes) mostly on the goings on back in Steve's direction.

"Sorry," Steve replies automatically, offering a sheepish smile towards Ben. He tilts his sketchbook up to let the young man see -- the beginnings of Ben's own profile, alongside a rather detailed sketch of the terminal across the way. He gestures towards him with his pencil, adding, "You just looked interesting," in a rather lame voice. Ben's voice /is/ ringing a bell in the back of Steve's mind, but he'll be damned if he can place it. It'll come to him. Surely.

...or, he could be horribly distracted. Steve blinks when Emma invites herself to his table and stands without thinking, at least until she's claimed her own chair. Manners. "Er... thank you. Have we met?" he asks awkwardly. Poor guy isn't at his best with women at the best of times, and most women are not as disarming as Emma Frost. At least Sam is there. A nice, normal looking guy, aside from the scar that Steve is absolutely not going to acknowledge. He gets a smile and a hand offered across the table. "Samuel? Nice to meet you."

Sam gives Steve a sheepish look as he shakes the man's hand. "Sam," he corrects, glancing briefly at Emma. "Nice to meet you too. Didn't want to disturb you, but..." But, Emma. Hurricane Emma.

Steve looks a little beleaguered at this point between the pretty red-head and the absolutely indifferent blonde who just parked herself at his table. Bro code--even if the guy on the other end is Captain (For Real) America himself--demands that Sam provide backup.

"Mind if I join you?" When Steve smiles and waves at a seat, Sam takes the one next to Emma. "Thanks. 'Scuse me a sec." He settles down, pulling out his phone as he does... not to take a picture of Steve. Or Emma. No. Cookie and coffee and then Instagram with the caption: For SG, proof of life.

"Why do you want to draw me? There's far more pretty people here," Ben gestures to Emma then Pepper. He looks down and blushes, the teen isn't one for compliments. And although Steve doesn't say Ben is attractive, for one to consider something interesting or beautiful enough to be the center of a piece is a compliment.

The brown eyes scan the crowd, "I won't keep you from your company. Seriously, you should consider drawing one of your friends. They're more interesting than me," on that note Ben looks down back to the schedule with a bit of red in his face still. Part of him is still confused though...why would someone draw him when there are two CEOs that looked like they could moonlight as models are in front of him? The notition honestly left him perplexed.

"Oh, no, We haven't met, though we're both... ah... public figures? Emma Frost," the devestating weather pattern in female form introduces herself, with a little salute of her coffee before a sip. "Headmistress of the Academy of Tomorrow." Ben's commentary gets her attention, and she 'tsk's at him over her shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short, dear. Men with good hair are hard to come by. No offense, but most of you seem to give yourselves roughly the same attention as an abandoned bird's nest. So appreciate what you have." Sam's right-- she gets some momentum and rolls over a social situation like a cyclone, given half a chance.

Pepper Potts drops the rest of the $20 she used to pay for Steve's coffee into the barista's tip jar and looks back toward Steve... ugh. Steve and Ms. Frost's table then turns back and checks to make sure the coffe is simply black and hot before accepting it and thanking the young lady at the counter. She turns back to now realize that there isn't an empty chair left at Steve's table, though she can't really say she's all that surprised. Typical Ice Queen move. But, it gives her a chance to maybe catch up with Peter. She's not had a chance to talk to him since the internship interview.

As she steps toward and then past Steve's table, she deftly swaps his froufy coffee drink for the cup of plain black joe with the grace of much practice (though it would have been even more effortless if Steve weren't so noticeably taller than Tony -- almost misjudged the shoulders) then smiles a hello to the teen seated at a separate table while still standing behind Steve and slightly to his right. Perfect vantage point to see what he's been sketching. "How have you been?" Her tone of voice suggests she's at least passingly familiar with the dark-haired young man.

It's okay, Ben. Steve's looking pretty perplexed, too. "Oh. Well. Drawing isn't always just about capturing what's pretty," he tries to explain, settling the sketchbook back against the table. "It's a way of observing the world around you. Helps you see things as more than just the sum of their parts, appreciate the complexities and uniqueness in all things. It's fun. No two subjects are identical," he notes with a smile, and there's a good chance that if Steve knew what Ben was, he'd be saying exactly the same thing.

Steve brightens and trades drinks with Pepper when she arrives, flashing her a grateful smile. "Thanks for the rescue, Miss Potts. Room for two more, if you'd like," he adds, gesturing between her, Ben, and the increasingly popular table.

Academy of Tomorrow? Steve's gaze swiiiiings back around to Emma with newfound interest, his eyebrows leaping up his forehead. "Can't say I've heard of it," he admits, glancing between her and Sam. One of her students, maybe? Only if it's a college, he looks a bit too old for anything less. "But I have been a little bit out of touch."

Sam is blissfully ignorant about speculation regarding who he is to Emma. Hasn't occurred to him that anyone would assume he was anything to her. When Pepper returns, Sam puts away his phone right quick and gets back up because--manners. And he knows her name now.

"Miss Potts," he says respectfully, coming around to hold the chair next to Steve for her. Ma can put her slipper back on. She could probably hit him all the way from Kentucky with it, no lie.

Looking hurt, "Are you saying I'm not pretty?" Ben asks. With a defeated sigh, the teen milks the moment. "I mean...yeesh, I'm not the greatest out there but I'm prettier than a Kardashian. Give me some credit," Ben quips with a grin. Gleaming the brown eyes twinkled as he keeps talking, "When I take photos I try to pick out the most interesting thing. Sometimes it's not beauty in a traditional sense," his gaze goes to the two women, "But it helps," he tries to save face with the women...just in case. "What I mean is...take Noah Kalina, the youtube sensation for example. This is the guy that has made everyone document everything from children growing up over the years to the progress of a pregnant stomach. He took a simple photo of himself. Pretty boring concept, but then add in the fact he does it every day for five years. This simple concept becomes interesting. So interesting everyone now copies him and 'The Simpsons' took time to spoof him."

The inner art nerd starts to show, "The same theory could be applied to art with impressionism and pieces like the single red dot being interesting or Warhol showing the art someone can find with a soup label. Neither are exactly pretty but are -extremely- interesting."

Looking back to the redhead, "I'm good...and bad...and a lot of other things ma'am," a hand extends outward, "Ben. Ben Reilly...miss?" the mannerisms between him and Peter are identical. The same can be said of looks, even the subtle differences of how the light caught his eyes and the smile. Does Peter have a twin?

"That doesn't surprise me, Captain," Emma notes mildly. "We broke ground on the campus just a few days ago." She picks a chunk of muffin with her fingers to eat, and glances towards Sam, then back at Rogers. "Oh, he's not one of mine. We met in line just now." She smiles. "I do think I rather like the young man, though. Good manners, practical. Worried about the right things. But I digress." Her eyes flick up at Pepper, and she arches an eyebrow, as if inviting comment.

Pepper Potts smiles and nods to Steve when he thanks her for the more palatable beverage, then blinks in clearly pleased surprise when Sam hops up to be gentlemanly. It fits perfectly with that genteel southern accent, and she smiles to the young man. "Thank you." She settles into the offered seat, but keeps her bag on her shoulder as she takes a sip of the froufy coffee. It's a near thing, but she manages to NOT react to how cloyingly over-sweet it is. She does end up with whipped cream on her nose, but wipes it off hastily. God. And in front of Emma Frost of all people.

At Ben's reply and introduction, she sets the froufy drink down and reaches to shake the young man's hand, though the faint line between her eyebrows gives away that she's a bit confused about something. "Please, call me Pepper." She also glances at the others at the table, including them all in that.

Steve looks ready to apologize again before Ben gets a head of steam going, and he cracks a relieved smile. Oh, good. He /didn't/ offend the guy. When Ben starts dropping names, Steve actually brightens and starts quickly jotting them down on clear patches of his sketchbook -- he has a lot to catch up on, and these people do sound very interesting. Worth wrestling with modern technology for, at the very least. "Kalina and Warhol," he echoes, nodding to himself and giving Ben a quick, questioning look. "How do you spell those? Just like they sound?"

Without thinking or commenting, Steve passes a napkin towards Pepper for the whipped cream. See? See how /wrong/ the combination is? "Congratulations on the groundbreaking," he tells Emma, smiling broadly. "I'll have to keep my ears open. The name sounds promising," he muses, reaching for his own, new coffee. One wary sniff is all the reassurance he needs before he has a drink. Ahh. /Coffee/. Much better. "Well, then -- what do you do, Sam?" he asks, grinning across at him. Aside from uphold the most honorable Bro Code, that is.

That's a great question. Sam hasn't got a good way to put it. 'Oh, I lead a handful of mutants and aliens against an international force of evil on a shoestring budget' isn't something you can say in public. Neither is 'I'm basically on sick leave because I was just dead'.

"Things have been in Limbo for me lately." That's a good way to put it. And 100% true. Especially just recently. "Once I'm fit for duty, I'll be going back to firefighting. Or EMT work, whatever's wanting most out where I live. Meantime, I have a few people to look after, repairs to make around the house to keep me busy, truck to keep running. You know how it is."

"Warhol you pronounce War-Haul, but you spell it 'W'-'A'-'R'-'H'-'O'-'L'," Ben recites the last name with ease. He pauses to think on Noah's name, "Noah just think of the man behind the arc. For the last name you pronounce it Ca-Lee-Na and spell it 'K'-'A'-'L'-'I'-'N'-'A.' Just youtube the last name and you'll be fine," he smiles looking at him.

An eyebrow raises over Pepper's facial change, "You okay? You don't look okay, and you're too interesting and beautiful to look confused." The line isn't as smooth as something Stark would say, but it is honest. Pepper is really beautiful and Ben can see why she pobably has some really posessive boyfriend or husband.

Fortunately for Pepper, Emma seems to be paying her about as much attention as the wallpaper right this second. Maybe that's not really fortunate. She's busy grinning wryly at Steve's reply. "Have you considered public speaking? Because the private lecture circuit pays very well these days."

Pepper Potts accepts the napkin from Steve graciously, then looks at Ben curiously as he helpfully spells those names for Steve. She'd been fully prepared to help the man catch up on art history, but this kid... it's just kind of creepy. He's claiming to NOT be Peter, but everything she sees and hears tells her he IS. Especially since Parker's background check didn't mention ANY relatives even near his own age. Maybe it's time to test... "So, um, Ben. How have you been enjoying the internship?"

H... O... L. "Thank you," Steve tells Ben, smiling brightly. "Catching up on art has been... interesting. I should really go by the Met sometime." Hm. Must make some plans. Plans that involve politely turning his attention back to Sam and Emma when the young man gets his mack on. Pepper, he trusts, can handle herself.

"Limbo, huh. Sounds familiar," Steve muses, inclining his head to Sam. "I do know how that is. That's good, tough work. Thank you for doing it," he adds, completely serious. He knows how easy it is for people who run /into/ burning buildings to be taken for granted. He won't let that happen here. He's curious about whether or not that scar has anything to do with being fit for duty, but he's also too polite to ask. At least, in mixed company. As for Emma... she gets a tired-sounding laugh. "People have asked," he admits. "But I figure people have more important things to do with their time than listen to me blather them all into a stupor." Or, they /should/, anyway.

"It needs doing," Sam says, shrugging off the thanks with a little duck of his head that suggests he's somewhat embarrassed by attention. Thanking him for doing what's pretty much the best job ever--well, aside from his other job, which is pretty cool--seems excessive.

"I can't see the Captain doing much talking when he could be getting things done--if you don't mind me saying," he says to Steve. He gets why the guy wouldn't want to go talk to people, especially on some private gig and for money. "People who're gonna learn, learn by example as much as hearing some lecture. Those who aren't wanting to learn are likely to mistake sitting in a lecture for changing themselves for the better." Not true for everyone, to be sure, and he's probably being too forward, but he can't imagine how anyone could trade in *doing* something for talking about it.

Hearing the magic word, 'Internship,' Ben springs into action grabbing a napkin and a pen from the front pocket of his backpack. 'H,' 'O,' and 'C,' are written down in a series of combinations. For anyone paying attention they could clearly see Ben is writing down molecule combinations from memory. 'H-O-H,' aka water with the appropriate slants in the bonding lines goes in first followed by 'H-H-H-H-C' left to right clockwise ending in the center with the appropriate lines is up next, this is Methane, and lastly a combination of 'H's and 'C's are written together to form Ethane. He slides the napkin to Pepper, "I'm looking for any internship ma'am. I'mI'm a Science nerd. Chemistry, Engineering, I've done and loved it all. Do you know of anything or anyone hiring?" he asks with hope dancing in his words. Ben has no idea who Pepper is nor anything about her connections. "I can bring in a resume in the morning."

"I'm sure President Lincoln would appreciate your perspective, Samuel," Emma notes mildly. Steve's given her an opening she feels inclined to take. One must be careful what one says around Emma Frost. That's like... Rule Zero. She tucks the cookie bag in her shopping bag, and stands, knowing that, just as when she sat down, Rogers will pop to his feet like a good gentelmanly anachronism. And when he does, she slides between him and Sam and catches their arms in either of hers in a take-charge kind of way. "Well. I happen to have a free afternoon, a car, and a large endowment at the Met. How about that." She doesn't exactly wait for a real reply before she makes to cart them off, either. "Ms. Potts. Enjoy your afternoon," she offers politely, and tilts her head at Ben in turn. Yep. Hurricane Emma, striking thrice.

Totally NOT caring that Emma is pretty much ignoring her, Pepper accepts the napkin from Steve graciously, then looks at Ben curiously as he helpfully spells those names for Steve, and offers her own two cents to Sam. "Don't sell yourself short. Emergency Services don't get nearly enough appreciation, sure as heck don't get enough budget." She pulls a business card from her bag and offers it to the Southern lad. "Let's keep in touch, Tony frequently decides out of nowhere to make charitable donations. Sometimes, I even get to choose where."

Turning her attention back to Ben when he starts hastily sketching out something Tony would likely follow effortlessly, Pepper can't help but wonder about the kid... it's just kind of creepy. He's claiming to NOT be Peter, but everything she sees and hears tells her he IS. Until he says he's /looking/ for an internship. Her expression goes confused again. "Uh ... sure. Yeah. That would be great." She pulls out another business card to offer to Ben when Emma basically claims both Sam and Steve. She looks from one blonde young man to the other, trying to convey a silent warning to them both to be wary around Emma. She knows people like Frost don't get to where they are without some level of ruthlessness. "Oh, um, right. Have a fun afternoon." Yeah, that sounded sincere. Not. Damnit, Pepper.

Sure enough, when Emma stands, so does Steve -- and then he blinks in mild surprise when his arm is taken. "How 'bout that," he echoes. Thankfully, the serum gave him quick enough reflexes to snatch his sketchbook, pencil, and coffee off of the table before he can be dragged away, and he slips Sam a sympathetic look before raising his drink in a salute to Pepper and Ben. "Looks like I'm off to the Met. It was good seeing you both," he smiles. "Good luck with the internship, Ben."

Sam is pocketing the card when Emma stands and, like Steve, he's on his feet when he gets claimed. He's used to this. Not *Emma* but women with a goal in mind. It's not like he's doing anything else right now. "Thank you, Miss Potts. I'll definitely be in touch." Anywhere he ends up working is going to have a tiny fire department and ambulance service, he's not going to pass up a chance to help them out.

As Emma makes off with him and Steve, he casts a somewhat baffled look over at the other man. At least they have each other, yes--there's an alliance Sam never expected. If they keep to the bro-code, they might just survive the day.

Delicately Ben pockets the card and would hug Pepper if she wasn't leaving just then. "Whoo!" he says loudly. For a brief moment all of the troubles from when he enters melts away. Leaping over a table like a hurdle Ben runs out the door. Furthering an education with a possible income...this is...this is too much. Happiness surges through Ben until a thought strikes him down outside.

Pulling out the card Ben reads the name "Pepper Potts" and sees the company she works for. "THAT WAS PEPPER POTTS?!" Ben practically screams with fear and surprising. Who hasn't heard of Pepper? She is a name and face behind Tony Stark the walking, talking millionaire that...well...ran the company behind his own name. The guy somehow manages to be the Michael Jordan to philanthropists and engineers simultaneously. Another surge of elation runs through Ben as he screams, "I LOVE NEEEEEWWWW YORRRRKKKKK!!!"

People are staring in his direction now but he couldn't care. Running down a series of alleyways Ben eventually takes to the walls then starts to jump over buildings like a careless thrillseeker. For once...things are starting to look up for him.

Pepper Potts watches Emma drag Steve and Sam away, then startles as Ben departs rather abruptly himself, then checks the time and gets up to go catch her train. The disgusting froufy drink is dropped in the trash (sorry, barista) and she joins the rest of the foot traffic heading into Grand Central Terminal. Ben -- well, everything about him, not the young man himself -- is still really bothering her, but she HAS to set it aside for now. She's on her way to an important meeting.