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WHO: Steve Rogers v 1.Werewolf, Meeting up with Betty and OPEN
WHAT: Letting Betty risk her life to deliver a message and roaming around.
WHEN: Flexible
WHERE: City of Tomorrow
NOTES/WARNINGS: None, will update as necessary.

Betty:
He meets Betty, bright and early Thursday morning. He's dressed in the dark blues of shield, but it's not a uniform, it's his compromise to not standing out in vivid colors, without resorting to the harshness of black. He's nervous while he waits on her, wants to pace, wants to maybe change his mind and back out.

But it's Bucky. He needs to know Bucky's okay - or even just alive, since he's not stupid enough to believe okay, really okay, is even possible. It's not possible for Betty either, though. The conflict there is acute so the first thing he says when he spots her is, "You sure about this?"

Open:
Human:
Steve spends most of his days around City of Tomorrow. He's restless and anxious, and hanging around here is easier for him to do than waiting around in his own world. It stops him from micromanaging, wanting to hover, or clamp down and demand information updates every five minutes.

So he wanders the streets, pokes into McAran tower, grabs cheese fries and a burger at lunch and a steak for dinner. He checks into a coffee shop, has a drink there and even manages to spend a few minutes sketching.

Wolf:
When night falls, he stows his clothes somewhere safe and accessible enough, finds a private corner to change in and spends the night more obviously roaming and pacing - on four feet and with a thick coat of fur. He is, if anything, more into sticking his nose into things that are none of his business and places he doesn't belong.

Not that he belongs in the city at all.

He clearly isn't shy or reclusive, though, much less afraid. He'll approach people, and be reasonably happy to be approached by them.

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"Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't," she answered.

She'd taken a little care of herself for this. She actually looked feminine. Easier to blend in that way. So her jacket followed a more feminine form, her pants showed that she had hips. Her hair had even been curled. A little makeup applied. Except for the glove on her left hand, she looked disturbingly normal. But that was how to stay unnoticed: out of sight in plain sight. Look normal and nobody notices.

Of course, she had a couple knives hidden in her boots. One up her sleeve. A couple guns in shoulder holsters that she wore like a second skin. Long, hard-fought experience had taught her well.

"Let's go."

What she hadn't told him was that she was going to tell Bucky to get out of Bucharest. It occurred to her that if all of them, all of her, all of him, had gone to Bucharest, it was too damned obvious. He needed to go somewhere else. Somewhere less predictable.

Hell. She might even tell him to go with Steve. She'd decide when she got there.

"Hold up." He takes a packet from his inside jacket pocket to pass to her. "Your identity, and all the documentation you'll need, and a burner cellphone you can use to get in touch with me if you need. Otherwise, I'll get you there and drop you with Clint and steer clear until you ask me for a pick up."

He was -

He was still nervous about this in so many ways. The new look, though, was... It was odder than seeing her the first time had been in a way. Pretty, but a little disorienting.

"And Betty? Thanks."

The 'pretty but disorienting' was the point. She needed to blend in. Women wearing hobo clothes weren't really blending in. Especially not in Europe.

She took the documents after feathering through them, especially committing the name to memory. Theresa Davis. Her name was Theresa Davis. Instantly, her mind went to work constructing backstory. Born in... (somewhere without an accent-- Oregon, that would work) Bend, Oregon, college in Washington state, economics major - that would explain the low-level state job.

"You're welcome. Who's Barton?" She looked up from the passport to ask. She'd need to know just what cover they were going to use. But the question... well, it could be taken a number of ways.

"I don't know. I haven't looked at his paperwork and I don't intend to. I haven't seen yours, either. All I have is a couple of phone numbers if it comes to that." Which could be a problem if it all went south, but. "It's safer that way."

He rubs his hand over his face. "Come on, let's do this before I'm the one chickening out."

Betty nodded once, tucking everything into appropriate pockets. Not a single weapon was visible as she did so. It had been a careful bit of arming - but she was good. She had practice.

"How do you do this? Gotta hold my hand or something?" That seemed like it should work. ...Hell if she knew.

"We're definitely going to have to be touching. Holding hands might do it, but I'd feel better if you got a decent grip with both your hands, instead. Just in case." He's never done this before, not really, and he'd rather not rip off her one good arm.

He's not getting fresh though. Really. He's way too... careful for that. Also too damn clueless.

It isn't the chance of him getting 'fresh' that puts her off touch. It's touch in general. She eyed him for a long moment before making a decision.

Stepping up behind him, she puts her hands on his shoulders, tight enough that there was no way an average human was going to make her let go. And this way, she doesn't have to worry about anybody grabbing her.

Win-win.

"Do it."

He looks back over his shoulder to her for a moment and then has to admit that's a pretty safe way to go. He'd like to be trusted enough to be at her back, but he knows he hasn't come close to earning that, yet, even if she hadn't had Hydra on her tail and every experience that led to it.

So this is pretty good.

He doesn't smile because he's worried, but. "I'm not good at following orders, you know." Just because he's not. Then he does it anyway.

She had her eyes shut tight through the transport, having done that every time so far - which is to say, once. As soon as she'd figured out the Hydra presence in the SFC was nil, she'd decided to stay. Simple. But now she was going...

Back.

To someone else's present, but still. Back.

Only once he'd pressed the button did it occur to her that she should've asked him where they'd end up.

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So far, Tony is actually enjoying all these new places. Meeting the other Steve for lunch had been interesting, but now he's on his way to meet the other Steve (the one with the scruff, he reminds himself) because he's too curious for his own good. This one also isn't the one that he has come to know back home - the one back home is generally clean-shaven all the time and Tony can't even remember seeing stubble on the guy - so it's another alternate universe. Which is fascinating to him, really. The theory is something that Tony had never been able to truly prove, but now here he is. Living it and breathing it, and he loves it.

On his way to meet him at McAran tower, he finds himself too distracted by the flying cars at first and almost ends up passing it. Steve had been right, this really is more up his alley, and Tony is even considering just finding a way to live here for a while. Just so he can familiarize himself with it and learn all about the scientific discoveries this place has, and his mind is already going a mile a second trying to plan things out. Maybe he could get one of the flying cars and take it apart so that he could learn the mechanism. Maybe he could take the shuttle and go off to meet some aliens. Maybe he could just try something new and see what stuck.

He has to remind himself to take it one step at a time, though, and he walks into McAran tower to meet up with Steve. Locating him isn't hard; the guy's physique is so unique that he can spot him almost immediately. The only thing that throws him off is the scruff, despite the warning, but... Huh. So that's what Steve Rogers with facial hair looked like, huh?

Considering the shock that he had already caused for the other Steve regarding his arm, maybe Tony should have worn long sleeves and gloves, but he doesn't. His sleeves are rolled up to the middle of his forearms, the red metallic arm in full display. In a way it looks as if he's wearing the arm of the suit, but considering the framing of it and how it almost seems to 'blend' with his body as if it's part of it, it's easy to see that it's not just a prop. It's not just him being paranoid and wearing a part of the suit. The arm is essentially his own in every sense of the word, and Tony makes no attempts to hide it as he walks up to Steve.

"Hey," he greets with an easy smile. "So is this where the tour begins?"

Don't take this the wrong way, Tony, but you smell funny.

Hiding the arm wouldn't change that, it'd just leave him trying to figure out the source of that scent, and confused. As it is, there's a moment or two where he's pretty obviously thrown by the arm, glancing that direction before getting his eyes back on Tony's face.

"This is the place. Kind of makes me want to know who McAran was." He hadn't looked into it, but having Tony there reminded him. Stark Tower and all. "What happened with the arm?" What, is he supposed to use tact? With any Tony? Please.

Tony doesn't take the glances or the confusion personally. Hell, even if they were back home and this was the Steve from his timeline, he still wouldn't. It's something he's so used to, seeing people's confusion and stares over his arm that it barely phases him. Sure, he could do a synthetic to essentially make his arm look as if it's flesh rather than the very obvious hot rod red - and in the beginning, before he was Iron Man, he actually did, but he has grown to own this as a part of him.

"You mean the explanation of who McAran is won't be part of the tour? What a shame." He glances up as if to look at the tower, but when he looks back at Steve it's obvious he's just teasing and being a brat. Some things just don't change with timelines, Steve.

The question of the arm makes him look down at it, flexing his hand for a moment. Its movements are fluid, as if it's really just his arm being covered by armor. The whirring of the mechanism is faint enough that it's hardly heard, but it's definitely audible. "Lab incident when I hit my 20s." He looks back at Steve and gives a small shrug. The way he explains it is more factual, any emotional reaction to the loss of his arm completely lost from his face or even tone. To be fair, it's been well over twenty years since it happened; he hardly sees the point in dwelling on something that is long gone.

"It's pretty much gone, so...you know. Brand new arm." He pauses, but it's only for a moment. "From the sounds of it, guess that's something that happened only in my timeline."

He gives Tony a look for the remark about McAran tower and the tour, but it's no more serious than the remark itself was. It's part of the way they work, and apparently that's not going to change because of realities and timelines. Tony's going to be a smart ass, and Steve's going to be overly serious and a straight man about it, and it's all a game.

He breaks and looks down at Tony's arm while he's hearing the explanation, head cocked a little to better hear the mechanical operation and then back up where he shrugs. "As long as the answer wasn't Hydra." There's a flash of a smile, though. He feels bad about it of course, but Tony's clearly got a very well functioning work around, it's been a long time, and Steve damned well knows better to pity people for shit they don't see as limitations.

"So, you going to insist on a bar tour over here, or can I convince you to actually pay attention to what this place has to offer?"

Despite his attempts to keep a straight face, at Steve's look Tony finds himself smirking anyway. No, this definitely hasn't changed. It's a little reassuring in its own way, though, because it's so familiar that it's easy to forget that he's meeting an alternate version of Steve Rogers.

Not that he minds it, really; this whole thing is fascinating to him.

A look of confusion crosses his face at the mention of Hydra, because he doesn't quite understand why they'd have anything to do with his arm, but he just shakes his head. "Nope, my own creation. And I've adjusted it to essentially be a part of the suit by now, so that has its perks."

Like right now. He may not have the suit with him, but if something were to happen then he could use his arm as a weapon. It helps that the power source for the repulsors was imbedded into his chest, too.

With a soft chuckle under his breath at Steve's comment, he shakes his head. "Nope, no bar crawl needed. I don't like my drinks with a side of judgement." He smirks again, teasing, before motioning for him to lead the way. "I'm ready when you are."

He rolls his eyes at Tony's remark about judgement. "Spend less time in bars and I'll judge less." It's still playful, though, rather than any sort of serious conflict. Tony drinks too much, it both worries and frustrates him, but this is just teasing familiarity and sort of testing to see how familiar.

Since that look at Hydra being mentioned tells him that more than a missing arm is probably different. Might be time? Maybe.

But both differences and similarities and that look all get him circling back to the meatier part of that conversation. "Oh yeah? How about we see if we can find somewhere to show me just how many perks it has."

Now it's Tony's turn to roll his eyes, but there's no real annoyance. If anything, it really is so familiar that he doesn't truly mind the comment. Probably because Steve's tone has a touch of playfulness as well, and this isn't a real push for him to lay off the bottle.

But, he'll take it. The last thing he wants is to start this off the wrong way, and Tony smirks at Steve's suggestion.

"Sure thing, I'm game. What are you thinking, shooting practice? I hope you don't say sparring, because even if the arm is stronger than it would be if I still had my own, the rest of my body isn't quite enhanced so you'll win."

It's a tease and a joke rather than a serious attempt to get Tony to lay off the alcohol now. Subject him to too much of it, and it might be something else. For now, though, Tony's benefiting a lot from not really being 'his' Tony and Steve's concerted effort at not making a whole hell of a lot of assumptions.

Very, very conscious effort.

"I wouldn't suggest sparring unless you were in a suit." He's mildly insulted by the idea, because he would win, and it wouldn't be much of a spar, and Tony might end up being jelly. That's before accounting for werewolf crap, and he doesn't feel like counting werewolf crap, anyway. "Finding something to shoot, yeah, but only if we can find a nice safe place to do it. I don't see much good coming from us leveling a city block."

And honestly, they're them. They'd level something.

Sam's not stupid. He knows the difference between a wolf and a dog, even growing up in a big city, and he knows that approaching even a stray dog in the street is not always the best idea. Let alone a stray wolf prowling around. He's seen stranger things, of course, both back home and here, but even if he's curious, he's not planning on waltzing up to try to pet the wolf.

But it doesn't seem to have any problem approaching him, and its body language is closer to a friendly dog than what Sam would expect from a wolf - and Sam gives a mental shrug and adjusts his own behavior accordingly. He can roll with this.

"Hey buddy," he murmurs, tone low and calm and probably a little closer to a croon than anything else. "You lost out here?"

He knows Sam.

Okay, he knows a Sam, but the appearance, demeanor, and voice are all familiar enough for him to pad up to the guy with even less reserve than he normally shows. His wears are a bit back and his tail's wagging slowly, but he's loose and pretty non-threatening. As non-threatening as a wolf hanging around a city can be.

He walks all the way to Sam, sticks his nose in Sam's hand and nudges.

All right, that's a pretty obvious sign, and Sam can't help the way his expression lights up a little bit. Maybe dogs just look different here, or hell, maybe wolves are just different here. Either way, there's no way Sam's able to resist a greeting like that.

"Yeah, you're right, I can do a better greeting than that," he says with a chuckle, shifting his hand so he can stroke over the wolf's head, and then sink his fingers into his fur to scratch behind his ears. "Hello to you, too. What're you doing all alone this time of night?"

Sam, you are a goober everywhere, and the way Sam's face lights up delights Steve so at least Sam's got good company in being the giant dork.

He leans into the hand and whines a little, wags his tail more overtly and uses dog body language to make his intention clear. He can't really answer the question but he leans hard into the hand and Sam's leg. You know what? Take him home. He's never been happier to see somebody here.

There's no escaping Sam's gooberness, but at least he seems to have made the wolf-dog happy. Sam's more than okay with being a dork for things like this.

He's also just as much of a softie in this world as he is back home, especially when it comes to a big pair of puppy dog eyes. Even more when it's coming from a literal dog, apparently, although given how quick he'd been to let Steve into his house when he showed up on his doorstep, not by much.

"I bet you're hungry, huh? Tell you what, come on back with me and I'll get you set up."

Sam'd wonder about taking home a stray wolf-dog with him, but honestly, this isn't the strangest thing he's ever done. He tousles the dog's ears once more before murmuring, "Come on, boy," as he starts to head towards the apartment he'd snagged in the city. If the dog's willing to follow him, Sam'll definitely make good on his promise.

He is going to have a talk with Sam about the wisdom of taking home strays - might even manage it with a straight face - once he can talk again. For now he just sticks close, and trots along beside Sam all the way home. Good distraction for waiting on word from Betty about Bucky, anyway, and it's still Sam.

Once they're in the apartment he licks Sam's hand, has a look and sniff around, considers vaguely pretending to pee on his sofa but opts not to give Sam ammo to use later.

Then it's a confusing, messy, process that looks like a seizure for about half second and ends with Steve being Steve. "I need a pair of pants."

Hey, now, taking home strays has worked pretty well for him so far. More or less.

He's liking how it worked right now, too, considering he seems to have found himself a pretty decent companion. It's not like he was looking for a dog or anything, but he's not gonna say no to keeping this one around at least for the night.

Until that happens. There's a brief moment of panic - Sam's a medic, yeah, but he's got no idea what to do with a dog having seizures. Then Steve is standing there, and panic turns to what the hell.

His eyebrows shoot up as he just barely resists the urge to reach out and poke Steve, make sure what he's seeing is actually real.

"Oh, just a pair of pants, huh?"

He groans and pushes up to one knee but stays pretty crouched over. Looks up at Sam like this is the most normal shit in the world (there is nothing normal about this and he's actually feeling pretty damned exposed and vulnerable).

"Yeah. Just a pair of pants. I guess maybe a shirt would be nice, but pants first."

Priorities.