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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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

In New York, in what appears to be a parking garage, with Clint leaning a shoulder against one of the support posts. Waiting.

"Let me know when you hear something, and be careful."

"Sure."

Short, but to the point. She shoved her hands into her pockets. No shaking hands today, Clint, sorry. She'd had her upper limit of physical contact for now. But she did say, "We need to go to Bucharest. I'm not great at flying unless I'm the pilot, but. Let's go."

[How do you want to do this from here? I can write up a thing. I do have both a Bucky and a Clint we can use, but if you want to leave your Steve's Bucky open to interpretation, we can just say that Betty told him to gtfo or something.]

[ This is going to sound lazy, but I don't want it to. I'm happy to provide input if you want or need it, but since Steve is closing his eyes, jumping and trusting her - I want to do the same. Go with whatever you think would happen, and I'll roll with it IC and roll with it HAPPILY - whether it's fantastic or terrible. ]

[Works for me. Either way, we should toss this into the Homeworlds comm, so I'll make a post over there to work things through. I'll toss you a link as soon as it's up.

(Probably about ten minutes.)]

[ No rush. I'm obviously not fast often. I'd be an ass to ever get impatient with anyone else. But I'll be looking forward to it and thank you! ]

{Here ya go, so Steve can interact and listen in, etc.]