1963-12-04 - Reunions and Warnings
Summary: Hilde comes to Wing Sing in search of Barney, but the Valkyrie finds someone else entirely.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
brunnhilde liv 


Sunday evening in Chinatown and Wing Sing isn't really a happening place at all. Not that it ever was, but right before the work week? Extra dead. Why is this place even OPEN? Well, other than the behemoth of an organization which lives beneath it. Hilde is the lone patron at the moment, having been trying to find Barney most of the evening. He went out early in the day and just didn't come home. No note, no telling her anything… No indication if he was coming back and while he probably was, paranoia, panic attacks and codependency don't make for a sane mental cocktail, so Hilde has gone to the one sort of place she knows he works.

Except… it's a Chinese restaurant. There is no secret door she can find. No suits going in and out. She swore it was here, but maybe she's crazy. Still, she's drinking and waiting.

"N-no…no…I been here before… I know they got like…a jail, or something… down there! I been here… my boyfriend works there… like, I swear, I'm not crazy… Just… just tell them Barney's girl is here… You can let me in!" Hilde insists, around the whiskey in her hands and the slight slurring of her words. Three whiskeys in and she has far less answers, some glaring from the cook/bartender, and a lot more heat in her cheeks. She's a light weight.

*

One of the people who works in that secret organization beneath the restaurant is only now preparing to go home for the night. Liv Sigrunsdottir has every intention of leaving quietly through the back, as is standard, when one of the undercover agents who keeps watch from the kitchen catches her by the elbow.

"Somebody out front causing a scene looking for Barton. Your Barton, I mean. Do you think you could..?"

"He's not my Barton," Liv notes with a wry smile, adjusting her leather jacket before patting the man on the shoulder and making her way towards the restaurant proper instead. "But I've got it. Don't worry about it."

The man looks relieved, and his voice may well carry out of the kitchen behind her. "Thanks, Asgard."

*

"No…no… I am NOT DRUNK…" Lies, such lies!" "I know there is a… thingie there. Somewhere here! Close! Just… just call up the phone and tell them I need to talk to Barney Barton… Baaaarrrneeey… Baaarttooon." The guy is Asian, not deaf, but to tipsy Hilde, perhaps it's the same thing? Who knows. She tries to sound it out to make it VERY CLEAR. Maybe someone will pick up a damn phone now!

When Liv comes into the front room, she will she a very put-upon looking cook trying to half ignore a slightly tilting, slightly slurring stick of a raggedy blonde woman in dark, oversized clothing. Hilde has coloring that almost looks Asgardian, but she's got the skinny, bony look of someone who probably is on drugs or living on the street. Or both. She's been able to afford some booze if the slight swaying of her body says anything."

*

As she approaches, Liv takes in the woman's manner and, for a brief moment, looks amused. She can do math. This must be her.

"You just missed him," Liv calls towards Brunnhilde, keeping her tone very light, almost playful. It's deliberate — most will assume she's simply trying to placate the rowdy drunk. "We closed up the super secret shop hours ago. He's probably off getting into trouble somewhere."

Well. That much is probably true.

Liv waves towards a table and flashes a smile. "Can I buy you some tea or something, give you a ride home?"

*

ROLL: Brunnhilde +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 2

*

As Liv comes in and speaks, the woman half spins on the barstool at the little noodle counter where she'd been leaning. Her drunken eyes go a bit wide, staring over the tall, gorgeous blonde. This is who Barney works with? Booze somewhat quickly leads to jealousy, and Liv is probably sharp enough to see that slight narrowing of her eyes. Hilde's just sketchy enough to be one of *those* jealous girlfriends. But it's taken over by relief and victory as Liv mentions the super secret shop, "I KNEW it was here! I wasn't crazy! I-"

And then something else very strange happens. Liv can probably feel it. A pulse of something like power, something from back home, and then the scent of blood, steal and… Poppies? The poppies are strange. A Midgardian flower, but the other scents are all home. Those unfocused, arctic blue eyes suddenly jerk over into gleaming silver and she almost seems to grow. She doesn't physically gain weight or height, but the swaying, shy, uncertain bend of her body is gone. She stands to her full 5'10" of height, shoulders square and straight.

In a matter of five seconds, it's like an entirely different woman stands before Liv. A woman who doesn't really look like that old, distant teacher, but carries herself in such a way. A woman who smells like home and death. A woman who seems to recognize Liv all too well. "…Forgive me, Sigrunsdottir, for my vessel's… uncouth actions. She knows not what she does."

*

Moe has arrived.

*

Liv's smile doesn't even waver at That Look from the other woman. If anything, her expression grows more sympathetic. Right up until that scent catches her nose and her expression grows puzzled, her brow pinching together. She knows that smell, but it's been so long. Where on earth is it coming from?

And then Hilde changes. Liv feels her own posture go a bit rigid, blue eyes wide as she stares across at her. The confusion is plain as day, and it's there even before the other woman says her name without prompting.

"Your… vessel?" Liv echoes uncertainly, casting a quick look around the restaurant. Thank goodness it's so dead in here tonight. No pun intended.

*

While there is still a touch of fuzziness to her head, damn this frail mortal body and it's weakness to alcohol, Brunnhilde is managing to shake most of it off. She's gotten better at controlling the natural, biological responses of a mortal frame and can kick in just enough adrenaline to clear a clouded mind or prepare for a fight. So, she manages to keep neatly upright despite her previous state, pride and fierce elegance practically radiating from her stance. She catches sight of Liv's worried eyes around the place.

"I suspect you have no wish to draw more attention to your… favoured restaurant…" No reason to obviously bring up hidden, secret base. Valkyrie is rather more savvy about these things than a drunken Hilde, "Than this one already has. Shall we walk? And I may explain somewhat further. I… it has been so long, Sigrunsdottir. There is no surprise that you do not recognize me in this visage but… perchance you will remember your old teacher? Brunnhilde? I…" And, unless Liv pulls away from her, the woman's bony hand slips up to almost protectively cup Liv's cheek. There is an ache in her eyes that wasn't there before, "…I thought you lost. Dead."

*

Liv is far too stunned to even think about shying away from the touch of Brunnhilde's hand, her mouth working silently for a moment. "Br… is that really you?" she asks, blinking twice before her mouth twitches into an odd smile. Are those tears in her eyes? She's trying to ignore them. "But you're so small."

It's a silly observation, but probably no sillier than the way Liv immediately tries to catch the woman in a fierce hug.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you! Did — I didn't think anyone even noticed I was gone," Liv admits with an anxious laugh. "Let's walk. Yes. Anywhere you want."

*

The touch, though her hand is far smaller and more frail, is familiar. It's like her spirit somehow manages to put weight onto this skinny waif of a body, or perhaps that's just the power of the Valkyrie. There is something motherly and tender in the brush of her fingertips, protective of the taller woman, even if Liv could probably snap her in half in this frame. Sometimes, it's not about the body. She allows a crackling little laugh to escape her lips at Liv's claim about her body, "Yes, well… I did not take this body under… the most ideal of circumstances. But she has taught me much, despite her… sometimes strange choices." That's as polite as Brunnhilde can be when considering the pure crazy of her mortal half.

The fierce hug is taken happy, and she shifts her skinny arms around Liv's shoulders, returning it tightly. "Of course I noticed… I had such hopes for you. Strong. Determined. You were not scared to stand up to me. It was… rare. And then nothing… I thought perhaps you took on something in courage that… that you should not have." She breathes in deep of Liv's scent, her own eyes slightly watering. Home. Liv smelled like home.

"… Yes. Walk. Somewhere we may speak in… some privacy." But she doesn't let go of touching Liv. She just shifts enough she can lace her arm through the other woman's so they can walk as old friends or sisters may.

*

"In a way, I did," Liv admits with a rather sad smile. There is no hesitation at all about linking arms with Brunnhilde and, with an apologetic look for what is sure to be a very confused cook, she heads for the front door and Chinatown beyond. It's chilly this time of year, especially so late at night, but having her old teacher back like this means that Liv barely even feels the cold. Her steps just seem so much lighter even if those are, yes, definitely tears staining her cheeks.

Liv's doing an admirable job of ignoring them and smiling, instead. "I was stupid," she confesses with a laugh, tipping her head back to look up at the sky as they walk. "Selfish. I felt like nothing on Asgard and I wanted to be… useful. To be special. I'm so sorry to have worried you."

*

It is cold, and Brunnhilde's body isn't really made for it. So, instinctively, she tucks a bit closer against Liv. There is no fear in her now about being considered one of those *strange* women who like other women. It's simply not a thought. They are heart-sisters in a strange land, so Brunnhilde walks next to Liv with pride. Though there are a few glares. It's a Sunday evening, at least the streets aren't all that crowded either.

"You were *young, my dear friend… We are all often selfish, and stupid when we are young. It was on myself, and the others, for not showing you what we saw in you. If you did not realize how special you were… I count that my slight, because I certainly saw it." She tightens her tiny arm around Liv's a bit closer, even as she catches sight of that glimmering on the woman's cheeks. This walking just wouldn't do. She wished to lay in comfort, relax, speak freely. Her eyes search about the street, "Do you have a place of privacy? If not… I shall use one of the man's old holes. No one touches them, though he is so paranoid of the places he will never return."

*

The only thought on Liv's mind is that Brunnhilde seems cold and so, without any consideration for those others who are out so late, she unlinks their arms in order to wrap one around the other blonde's shoulders instead. If she even sees the glares they earn, they don't seem to bother her.

"Even if you had tried to show me, I don't know that I'd have believed you," Liv admits with a quick snug of Brunnhilde's shoulders. "Please don't waste a second's thought on that. It's entirely on me." As for a place of privacy… she purses her lips in thought. "I have an apartment, but it's a ways from here. I don't know if Barton would react terribly well to my visiting one of his holes, though," she notes in a low, worried voice.

*

A small sound is made in her throat, dismissive and a touch impatient. "It is no longer one of his 'holes'. He abandoned in because of the other soldiers that hunt him. Now it just collects dust and rats. But it will service, and is not too far." The woman insists, abruptly turning the way that the pair steps together, down another side street to a separate avenue over. It would still be some of a walk, but not overly bad.

Especially not now that Brunnhilde is tucked under Liv's arm. Her body is so much unlike her, tiny and cold, something that seems a stiff wind could blow her away. She actually *fits* childlike beneath Liv's arm when before she could nose to nose stand against the woman. But, old friends need no explanations, it seems, so she comfortably walks on. "…And yes… the other folly of youth — not listening to their elders. But, ah, my dear… You had fire. Such fire. I am hearted to see it not snuffed out."

*

"You might be the only one," Liv muses. It's a fairly maudlin and defeatist comment, but she's still smiling when she makes it, even if she's dropped her eyes to watch the pavement in front of her feet. "These last few months have… lord, I feel like all I've managed to do is fail." She glances down at her, still with that small smile. "Maybe that's why fate's brought us together again."

*

The dropping of Liv's eyes, slight defeatest expression to her features, that admission? It's enough to make Brunnhilde grunt. Unhappily. "I see you are still young. That is fine. It is my failing for not having taught you enough… Come. Eyes up. We shall speak in safety soon." While it's not exactly the most tender or motherly of comments, it is very much the Valkyrie. They are strong women. They power through. She even gives Liv's waist a small squeeze with her thin arm that rests around her, securing the clutching between them both. That touch may be more reassuring than her words, but all are said in love.

A few more silent minutes, just walking, and then Brunnhilde abruptly turns to a currently closed bakery down a ragged side street of a not so nice area near the village. No key, she just pushes that downstairs door open and starts climbing the bare fire stairs up to higher floors. The stairwell smells like piss and worse things. It's three floors up and then she must let go of Liv to dig behind a brick, looking for the key she knew was still there. A moment later, she's pushing the door open to a single room hovel of a studio. Mattress on the ground, range in the corner. Fire place. Some empty hangers. Still old newspapers laying around and dishes growing mold in the sink. Hilde and Barney cleared out of this place fast, but it's not really been touched since. "It is… not plush, but serviceable. I shall build a fire."

*

The words may not be gentle, but Liv immediately responds to them by obediently lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders. When the Valkyrie says 'eyes up,' you better get those eyes up. It's simply how it works. That light squeeze is returned and she offers a ghost of a smile, but otherwise falls silent to simply walk.

Once they've completed their trek to the abandoned bolthole, Liv can't help but cast a rather curious look around even though there is honestly not much to see. This is… actually about what she had expected, somehow. She's stayed in worse. Not for a long time, but still.

"Next time, I'll take you home with me," Liv says with a quiet chuckle, peering down at some of the old newspapers as she shoves her hands into her pockets. "My roommates might appreciate knowing that there are people from Asgard that I'm still on good terms with. They worry."

*

While it was generaly Barney's job to build the fire, Brunnhilde knows how to do such things all too well. Survival skills are necessary for a warrior, after all. And that was the one thing which is always kept in any residence of Barton's — the things to build a proper fire. So, she goes over to the fireplace and starts with the wood, setting a proper triangle of the bigger logs before she gets the kindling going beneath. A few deep breaths over the small, licking flames and the room is cast in to more light. That light shows some other details — at some point, someone lined dozens of candles against the wall and on what little shelves or indentations they could find. The candles all burnt so long they died where they stood, the skeletons of them left. There's a few dried flower petals in a corner. A gray satin thing which might be a slip or a night gown which has dark stains all across it. Uncomfortable little glimpses into another life. Brunnhilde is content to ignore them, far more focused on Liv.

"…I… cannot speak on may of the others. I have only just managed to come back to myself… through some rather strange circumstances. But, please…" She walks back to her old student, reaching out to gently brush at some of those tear stains. That touch is all motherly, all protective, her fingertips trailing back through Liv's braids. "Talk to me, dear heart… What grieves you so?"

*

It has been a very long time since Liv was treated this way. By anyone. It doesn't even matter that Brunnhilde doesn't look the way that she remembers when all of the body language is so plainly correct, and being fussed over in this particular way, by this particular person, has Liv's breath hitching awkwardly in the back of her throat as tears threaten to fall in earnest.

She immediately drops her chin to peer down at the floor and loosely curls her arms around herself, giving the impression of someone far smaller than she actually is. "I don't even know where to start," Liv admits with an exhausted-sounding laugh, leaning forward slightly to let her forehead lightly thump down onto Hilde's shoulder. "There's so much."

*

The fire is going well. Of course it is, Brunnhilde made it, and she makes a DAMN good fire. She could probably teach Barton a thing or two. So, the strange, half Asgardian doesn' even look at it again. The breath-hitching Liv is all of her focus now, heart aching all the more for seeing the strange pain that Liv clearly is in. This is not what she expected of her old student, not at al. But then, it has been centuries. Her hand comes up, smoothing back over those long, blonde braids, touches growing more tender as Liv seems to fall more so emotionally apart, "Oh, Liv. Dear… strong, stubborn Liv. What has this world done to you?" Brunnhilde breathes out quietly, a touch of protective anger behind her soft tone.

As they almost switch places physically — Liv bent over and small in the way Hilde normally would be, Brunnhilde standing strong, tall and supportive, the shorter woman just insistently shakes her head. "No…Here. We shall lay as we once did after battle. Just because you have not been on a bloodied field does not mean you have not been through battle. Your heart must rest as much as your body…" And, without another hesitation, Brunnhilde guides Liv to that ragged bed. It'd be easier on a couch, but the bed is what they have. She stretches out, on her back, tugging Liv in to rest against her her and curl up. It's easier to hande the height difference this way anyways. And the nice thing about a crappy mattress? Brunnhilde doesn't worry about taking off her boots.

*

"No, no, it's not — it's not this place. I love it here. It's just me." Even in this state, Liv is so quick to come to Midgard's defense. To be fair, she is on somewhat of a hair trigger where that is concerned, these days. Even so, it does not take a great deal of effort on Brunnhilde's part to encourage Liv over to the… yeah, we can call that a bed.

She stretches out alongside her and there is no awkwardness at all when she lays her head onto Hilde's shoulder. Though it does cause her to briefly pause and let out a very quiet laugh. "You really are smaller. This is so strange. Do I want to know what happened?" she asks, peeking up at her with a quirk of an eyebrow.

*

As Liv protests in defense of this place, Brunnhilde really can't fight it. After all, she's *living* as one of them, or so it seems, so there's got to be something she likes about Midgard enough to take a whole new body for herself. Thin lips pull into a quiet smile, though, as Liv stretches out next to her and rests her head there. Brunnhilde just tilts her head down, pressing her cheek into Liv's hair, trying to wrap her up in what little warmth she can offer. She really is different now, though. All bird bones and fragile limbs. Even the quiet echo of her heart against ribs is frantic and fast, not the strong, low thrum of a woman in the best of health.

But nothing changes the warmth *behind* the wrap of her arms. The way her fingertips trail in reassuring, slow lines across Liv's shoulder, or the lilt behind her words even if they come from a more raspy throat. "…it is not you. Though this is a great place, one to be loved, you are not broken, Liv. You are simply learning. Do not damn yourself… I shan't allow it. But if you tell me your heart, I may help you see it more clearly than through the shade of grief with which you look." Ever wise. Ever gentle — at least to the ones she cares for.

The question of her body gets a slight laugh. "…I… do not know if you wish. In short… my true self is still trapped back on Asgard. Machinations of the Enchantress and her foolishness. But… my spirit managed to range free. I found a shell of a Midgardian child. Dead in mind and soul, but they kept the body alive out of sick sentiment. I… decided to take it for my own. 'twas better than leaving it to rot on machines."

*

This news is enough to darken Liv's expression, a troubled set coming to her jaw. The Enchantress. Of course, why wouldn't something like this have happened? The rest of it… for a moment, that troubled expression thaws. "In a way, she's made a Valkyrie give life rather than take it," she murmurs, sounding almost amused. "Imagine that. I'm glad you're here, even if you're not wholly yourself," she adds, reaching up to lightly touch Brunnhilde's cheek with her fingertips. "And if there is anything I can do to help you fix this… all you ever have to do is ask."

Because Liv doesn't feel like she's in over her head enough already.

She can't resist tucking into the embrace, taking advantage of the way they're arranged to tuck her head up under her teacher's chin. That feels more normal, more like the way things ought to be. "But. These last few months have just been so… I've been here for so long now, I had thought my life had found its rhythm. But so many things have been happening in great bursts lately, and none of them have been good."

*

It's like, after all these centuries, Brunnhilde still knows her old student too-well. She clears her throat as the woman offers to help, "Dear heart, do you not have quite a bit you are doing already, it would seem? I am a woman who is more than willing to handle her own fights. I needn't others to step up. But… right now, while the Enchantress may not realize, she has given me quite a gift. I… can understand these Midgardians far better for living as one of them…" And goodness is she. The crazy wreck of a codependent girlfriend in Wing Sing? Well, it's not like Brunnhilde is only getting the sunny side of Midgardian life. "And my…gifts… they now stretch beyond simply Hel and Valhalla. I have brought souls to all manner of lands, peaceful and not. It has been enlightening. I think I shall keep this frame. Small and strange as it is." She always did have some *weird* tastes. Maybe it's the death thing? Who knows. But, sickly and mortal, she still seems content in this body.

her smile widens, however, as Liv tucks in tighter beneath her head. She presses there, wrapped around the stronger body, both of them radiating warmth for sharing space now. "…Did *you* cause any of these things to occur? If not.. you cannot damn yourself for them. You can simply… Manage them. One at a time. Find which is the most worthy, handle it first… what quests do you find yourself mounting at the moment, which cause you such troubles?"

*

If Brunnhilde says she wants to keep this body, Liv is not going to argue. It is hardly her place to, for one thing, and if this body is mortal… well, inevitably, it will come up again. Probably. A part of Liv is a touch selfishly pleased about this — it's the first sign she's seen that there might be someone else from home who actually does understand how the people of Midgard think. Now, Hilde is assuredly in the best position to.

"I didn't cause them, no," Liv allows with a sigh, closing her eyes to focus on just soaking up the company. "It's the managing that I'm having difficulty with. Part of it is that the people here have become so much stronger than they were when I decided to stay, I'm not as…" She hesitates, trying to phrase it. "…capable, as I once was, of handling things myself. And I won't go to the embassy for help." Not can't. Won't.

Without lifting her head, Liv makes a face. "Did you see the Ed Sullivan show? It's… I know what he was trying to get across. But the delivery, it's… everyone I know is terrified of us now."

*

Strange body or not, Brunnhilde at least seems to know how to use it, wrapped tightly around Liv, making herself seem as big and warm as possible despite bird bones and cool skin. The fire helps a lot. She listens in patient, caring silence, a slightly grim look casting about her features as she smooths the whole of her hand over Liv's braids. It's like the constant, small touches are all there to reinforce the reassuance that Liv is not alone. Brunnhilde knows these things, how to protect as much as she does fight.

"I…did not see the show, but… I have heard the affects. Yes, the mortals are… Fearful. They have gone through much and now we offer more that is simply…stronger than they are. It was poorly done. But… if you will not return to the embarrass, where… Where *are* you handling matters, then? What keeps your attention, if not the work of our people…"

*

Suddenly, Liv seems to shrink, and the tension that had finally left her shoulders returns in full force. She stares across the room at a spot on the wall and feels as if she's bracing herself, possibly even for an actual, physical blow.

"I have not had any hand in Asgard's affairs in a very long time, and I doubt that I would be welcomed back even if I wished to be," Liv says in a quiet, tight voice. "This is home now. I have friends here. Colleagues. I have a job, and when I'm not there, I'm just… trying to help. Even if it hasn't gone very well lately, I keep trying."

*

As Brunnhilde brings that up, she can almost FEEL Liv getting smaller in her arms. A sore spot, it seems. The blonde makes a mental note of it and just tightens her grasp around Liv, giving physical support even if she has few actual answers. There is no anger in her, no disappointment that Liv has withdrawn herself. But then, the mortal bodied woman probably has a unique perspective on things for her current state.

"…Ah, yes. You are with the same… organization as my Killer…" She speaks of Barney with an almost heady purr behind her throat. Of *course* the Valkyrie likes the assassin as much as the mortal woman. He's an assassin. "You, as ever, are too hard upon yourself. You look in the mirror and see a little girl when the rest of the world sees a warrior. Have the mortals you call colleagues cast you out yet? Have your friends?"

*

It takes Liv a second to determine that 'my Killer' is an affectionate petname rather than an accusation, and do the math. Oh. Barton. Obviously. "If you've been spending time with Barton, I suppose that explains why he looked like he was going to swallow his tongue when he met me," she admits, laughing. In hindsight, Peggy's assignment there was kind of mean.

She waves a hand. "I am pretty sure the only reason my colleagues haven't cast me out is that I can be a source of information," Liv admits, grimacing against Hilde's shoulder. "I'm not a person to most of them. I'm an asset. It's… uncomfortable. But where else would I go?"

*

A slight huff comes, "I will speak to Barton and tell him you are a good woman. Smack sense into that man. I should anyway, all things considered. He is… difficult." Valkyrie mutters, the tone of her voice both oddly fond of AND annoyed by the man that her other half has decided to shack up with, so to speak. She still doesn't stop the gentle ministrations of her fingertips, though, especially as Liv winces.

"…You should go somewhere you are appreciated for the warrior that you are. Perhaps the… police force. They are guardians of this world, are they not? Then you may stay in this city also." It's strange. For all of Brunnhilde's time as a mortal, she actually seems to have picked up a fair bit of understanding of how this place works.

*

ROLL: Brunnhilde +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 92

*

"I suppose that would be an option, if things don't work out where I am," Liv admits, sounding thoughtful. "They are trying to put together some kind of program where the officers have partners who are… powered. I'll keep it in mind," she promises, pushing herself up enough to offer Brunnhilde a smile. "Thank you."

*

As Liv pushes up to give that smile, Brunnhilde's own is returned, warm and protective. "Of course, Liv. I… I cannot always say I will know myself in this frame. I fear giving the mortal… all of my mind. It may break her. She is a… delicate thing. But if you find me, speak to me in the old language. It will normally rouse me from her… " And, speaking of, said mortal is REALLY not happy being trapped in her own head, cutting into dream world when she was supposed to be looking for Barney. Thinking about it was just the crack the surprisingly stubborn Hilde needed. Those silver eyes wince a bit, trying to push her back…

But not succeeding. Suddenly, Liv is staring down into arctic blue eyes and a very shocked, wide gaze as Hilde slams back into consciousness and stares up at the woman who she is, apparently… *cuddling with?!* What the hell?! She jerks back like a cat whose tail has been stepped on, scrambling to the far corner of the mattress, all lanky limbs and shallow breaths. "…W-what…what? Where the hell…is Barney?….shit… Shit… she… that thing… took over… again…didn't she?? Shit! What the fuck!?" She's trying not to panic, but it's hard to remember how to breathe.

*

It would probably be bad form to break out the old language now, wouldn't it?

At the first sign of trouble, Liv's brow creases in concern, the younger Asgardian pushing herself up a bit further so that she can worriedly study her face. "Brunnhilde? Are you — " And then silver eyes go blue, and she can tell that her teacher is very much not the one driving any longer.

Almost as quickly as Hilde does, Liv recoils and scrabbles backward in the opposite direction, very nearly backpedalling all the way off the far side of the mattress. "Sorry!" she says quickly, her eyes wide in surprise. "Sorry, sorry, that — she's an old friend," she explains, holding up a hand. "You're okay! You're okay. Just… just breathe. Okay?"

*

ROLL: Brunnhilde +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 84

*

While it would be very easy to fall into pure panic, something that has been clawing at Hilde's heart more and more lately, Liv's words are oddly reassuring. Breathe. Just breathe. She can do that. The skinny woman gulps in a few breaths against her frantic heart and that seems to help some. Then she's looking around the place and it's *so* familiar, if more dusty and with a few more bugs. Still, knowing the room also helps. She doesn't say anything for a few other moments, but she seems less likely to fall into pure, mindless panic.

At least she's sober now?

Ice pale eyes flicker back up to Liv, studying the tall, gorgeous woman for a few moments as she curls in on herself, remaining curled up at the top of the ragged old mattress. She hugs her legs in against her chest, trying to be as tiny and hidden as possible. It's just habit for this frame. "I…I don't know how…the hell you tell your…old f-friend that this is my… fucking life," Not really, but those details are still lost on Hilde, "and… and I don't like being kicked out.. of my own head, but I wish someone would. Now where the hell is Barney? Why are we *here*? This place is burnt…"

*

"She wanted to talk with me, but not out on the street," Liv says apologetically as she slowly, warily, pushes herself to sit crosslegged where she is on the far side of the bed. This seems safe. Ish. For the moment. "So she brought me here. I'm sorry — she thought I was dead."

Tiredly, Liv drags a hand down across her face and tries to force herself to think. Speaking of things not going right for her lately… "I'm not sure where Barton is right now, other than 'not here, and not at Wing Sing.' Maybe he's got work?" God forbid.

*

The skittish woman still looks uncertain, but not like she's ready to climb out of her skin or run somewhere else. She doesn't unfold from her little ball, but she keeps staring at the elegant Liv across the bedding, still tasting that slight touch of jealousy in the back of her throat that this woman knows Barney. This beautiful, strong, probably far more capable woman. Her thin arms tighten around her legs for a few minutes.

"…No…he…he wouldn't come here. This place is compromised. We shouldn't be here either. The FBI'll be sniffin' around any time." Hilde mutters, the paranoia behind her eyes fairly clear, but possibly not WRONG. Barney did have lots of enemies. She exhales another slightly forced breath, still working on staying calm, but she seems to be succeeding that work. "…L-look…you…you know that… thing in my head. I'm tryin' to…understand. Tryin' to… get a handle on it… I don't wanna feel like I'm goin' crazy…"

*

ROLL: Moe +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 83

*

The poor woman is so skittish that it reminds Liv of trying to deal with a frightened, wild animal. She finds herself keep her movements slow as she shifts to get to her feet, and offers what she hopes is a reassuring smile. "If the FBI is coming, then we should probably be going," she says in a calm, gentle voice. "Let me at least pay your cab fare home to make up for the trouble." She'd offer to drive her, but her motorcycle's all the way back at Wing Sing.

If Hilde doesn't look too skittish for it, Liv will come just close enough to offer her a hand up. "My name's Liv. And I promise, you're not going crazy."

*

The other blonde is actually doing quite well for handling the skittish little Bronx woman. Being slow, gentle, seeming to trust her about the FBI? It's all enough to keep Hilde calm and respectful. Hell, she even starts to unfold from the mattress, slowly beginning to stand. She dares take that palm so she can get up and keep her feet without dizziness being too bad (she probably could stand to eat more. A lot more, actually, especially with Brunnhilde kicking around.)

"Yeah… we… we really should go. I know it sounds nuts but… the FBI really… they'll be sniffin' around. They do all the time… I saw two of'em…" SHe insists, like a little girl trying to prove that faeries are real because she swears she saw them. But these faeries are very dangerous. Hilde then flickers a look around the room, seeing if there is anything she actualy forgot now that she's here. The stained nightgown gets a longer look, an extra heartbeat, and she shakes it off and moves for the door. "No…no cabs…I'll be fine… I know the trains… it'll be fine. I… I'm Hilde." Well, that's interesting. Like the Valkyrie imprinted on this body in name as well as soul. Maybe she did?

*

Gently, Liv helps pull Hilde up to her feet and takes a moment to make sure she's steady before letting go. "Hilde. Nice to meet you," she says with a small, slightly odd smile. "Sorry for the circumstances. Let's get this fire out and get going, then."

No questions about the FBI, no skepticism. Just simple acceptance. Liv moves over to the fireplace to get the flames properly smothered, her nose wrinkling a bit in the process. Something in there didn't smell great. Oh well. "I'll at least walk you to the train station, make sure you get there safe. If that's okay?"

*

The paranoid still lives there rather hard, even if there'd be no way Liv could really trace her from the train. Barney has taught her well. A slight grimace, but she finally gives the smallest bit of a nod, "Y-yeah…if…if you wanna. You don't gotta, but… sure. Just…whichever train is fine. I'll get one home eventually." After dancing through multiple trains, lines and stops. The usual habit to get to and from home. To keep that home *safe*.

Putting out the fire isn't something Hilde really knows how to do either. Fires are so not her thing. She goes to the sink and gets a mug of water over those old, molding dishes. That'd be enough, right?

*

By the time Hilde brings the mug of water, it might be — Liv's managed to get most of the fire out by smothering it with her jacket, apparently utterly unconcerned by the possibility of damaging it or having it smelling like smoke. Her clothes have lived through far, far worse.

Doesn't mean she doesn't smile gratefully and use the water to finish it off, though.

Once the cinders look well and truly out, Liv straightens back up and shakes her jacket out before hauling it back on. Ooh, it's extra warm now. Bonus. "Let's get you out of here."

*

There is a long, hard look from the skittish waif of a woman, as if she wanted to say or do something more to the tall figure across from her. Maybe she had answers. She knew the other person stuck in Hilde's skull. But that would involve exposing herself even more to someone who she's not certain she can trust and Liv was as intimidating as she was nice. So, Hilde sinks down into her own coat a bit deeper, just mutely nodding as the woman takes the cup to finish off the fire. See? She helped.

"…'Kay… maybe… just… keep eyes on the street, when we leave… maybe you first. They don't know you, they know me, probably…" So did SHIELD, for that matter, considering she was drug in when they first arrested Barney. Hilde huddles down and follows Liv to the stairs, letting her take lead. There is no sign of FBI or anyone else looking around for them. Just an empty New York night…

*

Liv has no objections to taking the lead. She'd rather intended to, regardless. She leads the way back out the way they had come in, keeping a wary ear our for trouble as they go. Thankfully… all seems quiet.

She holds the door open for Hilde to join her outside and draws in a deep breath of relatively fresh air. That's much better. "If you like… I can give you my number," Liv offers, turning to give her a questioning look. "So that you and your…" She gestures at the side of her own head. "…can get ahold of me, if you ever need to?"

*

"…uh… yeah. Yeah. Number. That'd… be good. I can always find a payphone. Thanks." Hilde murmurs, still on edge, but the offer seems to help a little bit too. She flickers eyes down the street, half wincing, almost expecting dark suited men to come around the corner any minute. But she's just a skittish mess and that is probably just her personality more than anything. She waits for whatever paper Liv gives her, but doesn't return the favor.

Even if that probably makes the Brunnhilde in the back of her head unhappy. They really had some things to work out.

"…uh…got it. Thanks. Uh… if…if you work with Barney… like… hands off. Okay? I…I know I ain't much to look at… don't got your… tits or hips or anything but… but he's mine? Alright? No funny business." There. Hilde stood up for the one thing in her life which is good and makes sense. Even if she couldn't be further from wrong that Liv has ANY interest in the man.

*

As they walk, Liv goes rummaging in her leather jacket for a scrap of paper and a pen, though she does keep her eyes on their surroundings. In her experience, people don't often become paranoid for no reason — and if Hilde was spending time with Barney, then yeah, she should remain alert for trouble. "If I don't answer, one of my roommates usually will," she says as she quickly jots down her name and number on an old receipt, which she offers over.

She manages not to drop the receipt at the territorial warning, caught completely by surprise. Her Killer indeed. Liv immediately cracks a smile and waves her free hand. "Hands off. I promise. I don't think he likes me very much anyway, if it's any consolation," she muses, rolling her eyes towards the stars.

*

The receipt is taken, pale eyes giving it a once over before she stuffs it in her pocket with her hand. Whether she will remember it's there or not, or Barney will find a random phone number in her pocket and they'll *fight* about it or not? Who knows. But she takes it for the future. The cracked smile from Liv and the promise to keep hands off gets a gruff little nod. "Just…just wanted ta be clear. Is all." Hilde grumbles, almost apologetic, but she's no better at apologizing than Barney is.

With that, the green lights of a subway stop can be seen ahead. She gives a little nod, "I'm jus'…gonna go here. This'll be fine. You…you be good, Liv. Sorry for…freakin' out. It's…just been kinda weird. But…but thanks for bein'…cool about it." She gives the tall woman a little sort of salute and then turns to jog down into the subway, back in her urban shadows, where people like Hilde Norris belong. How she has a Valkyrie living in her is still entirely strange.

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