2012-10-20: Of Clipped Wings and Time Travel Things

So, it's a little out of the way airport. There may be one jet a month landing here, private little things, but most of the planes are little Cesna one or two engine models. Carol is out here today... early in the afternoon with her shoulderlength blonde hair acting as a redundant windsock. She sits on her crotch rocket motorcycle with her helmet off but her jacket zipped halfway up to show the black teeshirt she wears beneath it. Her bluejeans look well worn and comfy as she just sits right up beside one of the runways, watching the airplanes. She isn't trespassing there, she spoke to the flight controllers and got their permission after showing her SHIELD badge. But a pilot might recognize the look on her face... longing to be at the controls.

Not long ago, one of those planes, one bearing the logo of Blackhawk Inc. landed on the runway. Now, Zinda's coming up on foot alongside the woman on the motorcycle. "How long's it been since you been up?" She knows that look all too well- this was the first time she's been able to fly since the whole... time-displaced thing. Funny how much work it takes to get a pilot's license when you've been declared legally dead for over sixty years.

"Too long." offers Carol's mezzo-soprano. She turns her head and lifts a hand to scoop the hair out of her face. She offers a bit of a smile as she shrugs, "At least, in the pilto's seat it's been a while. Used to fly high tech jet fighters, but right now I'd kill to fly a Wright Brothers model." She shrugs her shoulders and steps off the motorcycle, helmet hooked on the handlebars before she offers a hand, "Carol." she says. "Zinda. I can sympathise," she says. "Been months since I've been in the air. Feels like a lot longer. Guess it always does when your wings are clipped," she says with a bit of a sigh. "So, you're just out here to watch 'em and get maudlin over 'em?" She heard someone mention a SHIELD agent hanging around- she's almost a little suspicious Fury sent this woman to check in on her. Though seeing the other woman's expression close up... she's pretty convinced she's here on her own.

"Well, it's that, or killa bottle of Jack." mutters Carol with a shake of her head. "I figure, I'd rather be close to planes than just not even see'em." She shrugs her shoulders... yeah, the woman's a bit taller, a bit broader than most women strive to be. "Zinda eh? That's a pretty, but unusual name." Her eyes traverse towards the roar of an engine as another plane lands, and there's that almost absentminded breath she takes, letting it out a bit too quickly. Then she smirks at the irony... she can fly under her own power, and she's all depressed about not being able to fly a plane? Zinda grins a bit. "I don't wanna think about how much I owe on bar tabs just from the last few months. 'Course, everything's more expensive than I'm used to-" she starts to admit, then stops herself. She's still not even sure how to explain /that/ whole mess.

"Yeah, New York's prices can stickershock -anyone- not from here." Carol is simply assuming you're from the Midwest or some such. After all, gas there is like 2 dollars cheaper per gallon than it is in NYC. She chuckles a bit and turns her head your way, "If this tiny little rinky dink airport had a bar, I'd offer to buy you a beer." "And if it had one, I'd happily take you up on it," Zinda says. "All I saw was a vending machine, and I think some'a the stuff in there was older'n me," she says, shaking her head a little.

Wrinkling up her nose, Carol shakes her head. "You work at the 'port here? Or are you gonna make me jealous and say you were one of the ones I watched land here?" She grins a bit then and her tone is a bit tongue in cheek as she asks that. "Just landed, but nothin' fancy. I kinda... own a chunk of a company. Apparently that's a good way to speed up gettin' your license back, even if life decided to get crazy on ya for a while," she says. "Still not used to that. Kind of... inherited it." Longshot enters from: Lower Manhattan.

You let it expire?" asks Carol with a mild tsk sound. She shakes her head, "How'd you manage -that-?" Come to think of it, that isn't the easiest thing to do, renewing a pilot's license is kinda second nature to most modern pilots. "I still got five years left on mine for that matter." And here, Zinda just decides to be honest about it. "Well, it was first issued in 1944," she admits with a bit of a shrug. "Call me crazy if you want, but I've got the papers t'prove it. A lot of papers. You'd be surprised how complicated it is to prove you're not dead."

"I really might not." offers Carol. It's not like she was declared -dead-, but having spent a few years as some interstellar entity and not even residing here on Earth did kinda make things odd when she came home and tried to pick up her life where she left off at. She eyes you then and raises one blonde brow, "You look mighty spry for a woman in her what... nineties?"

"I still don't know how to explain it. Skipped a few decades," she says. "Mostly, I'm more bothered that people thought I'd crashed somewhere," she admits. "Seein' yourself in a history book is a bit of a shock, I gotta tell ya."

With a snort, Carol shakes her head, "You mean you have no idea where Amelia Earheart is at? You're not on some desert island with her in the Bermuda Triangle?" asks Carol. "Seriously though, you .... skipped some decades? I was about to ask how, but you just told me you don't know how."

"Considerin' that some'a the guys I knew look /almost/ as good as me, I'd say this world is just goin' crazy," Zinda says, and sighs. "I better get goin'," she adds after that, noticing someone come out of one of the hangers to wave her over.

-fin-