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Fitz was working late still reading some file with several pages that were just swathes of black redacted lines. He sat there cradling a bowl of popcorn in one arm and stuffing his face with the other. "Remarkable. I have never seen so many requests to decipher so very little information. Either this is getting super deep dish or SHIELD's trying t'flatter us."
It's only the original Bucky in SHIELD's hands, these days. He's staunchly refused to return the clones (?) to their custody….it's rather an open secret where he's keeping them, since there are very few places in New York where you can safely house eight young men who all strongly resemble the Winter Soldier. But it's been let slide, so far. He himself has submitted to tests and scans and all sorts of examinations, many of which are concerned with the arm. Tony Stark isn't the only one who gets to eyeball it. So now he's dutifully presenting himself for more testing. AT least Fitz and his crew are a lot more appealing than Arnim Zola, but it doesn't keep Buck from looking rather grim as he appears. Which is what every SHIELD agent wants to see - a former foe and assassin showing up in classified areas, not quite scowling.
Kitty flips through her own set of pages, "I'm beginning to think they don't trust us." She turns to Fitz, "I don't know about you, but I could do with a little less flattery." She looks up at the sound of movement from the door. Still relatively new to the agency, she doesn't immediatly recognize the man walking in, she does note the rather foreboding expression he is wearing. She clears her throat, nudging Fitz and nodding to the door and waiting for the hoped for introduction.
Fitz grinned and shook his head, "No kidding. How are we supposed to prep dsomeone for a mission on absolutely zero details?" He paused and considered something aside of science, "Yooooou, um, by chance kinnae see the future at all can you?" THough, ah! things he was able to have knowledge of entered the room. Sure Bucky got to go to Med for diagnostics, but few engineers out there knew much about vibranium and alien tech and literal armaments. The expression once guarded, seemed to regard Bucky with a smile of homecoming, "Bucky, good to see you. You remember Kitty, maybe? SHe's um, she's my, um, lab partner. how're you holding up?"
The scowl eases into something almost sheepish, at that cheerful greeting. "'m doing okay," he says, in his low voice. A glance at Kitty. "I….don't think so?" He sounds apologetic. Did he try to kill her once? Surely she's too new to the job for that to be the case. And then, belatedly, Buck remembers his manners enough to come forward, offering his ordinary hand. Not that the metal one's concealed - he's dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, no attempt to hide it.
Kitty gets a better look at Bucky as he enters the room, able to see the the metal arm as he approaches. She is relieved to see the gloomy expression slide away. "I don't think we've had a chance to meet before." Kitty reaches to take the offered hand. "Kitty Pryde. I'm new here." She smiles in what she hopes is a freindly manner. "Is this a social call or is there something we can do for you?" She tries not to eye the arm with curiosity. She has heard rumors, but has never seen the tech in up close and personal.
"Every call is a social call with Mittens," Clint pipes up immediately upon his entry into the room. Tee shirt. Jeans. Sneakers. A bunch of gauze wrapped around his shoulder and coming down his bicep visible. You know, normal Barton shit. The smart mouthed archer is chewing on a toothpick and has his douchbag sunglasses perched firmly into his hair; their reflective surface glinting back against the light. Toting a brown box in one hand, firmly held against his hip. "He's a regular sewing circle on on his own." Clint slides the box over the nearest table surface to Fitz, watching as it skitters with a satisfying 'shhhhhhht' to a halt. Hand deposited into his pocket, the blond upnods to Bucky and winks to Kitty in hello.
Fitz was, perhaps, too often too technical, but still, Fitz reliably remembered that there's a person that the tech affects, or tries to. Looking to Kitty he answered, "Routine checkup. One of my projects when people aren't asking me how Stark is blowing things up again and whre did I hide the peanut butter." Looking back to Bucky he offered to help him out, "They still own't let me have a lab monkey, but they gave us a Kitty." He paused and immediately regreted the phrasing, "Not… that… you're alab monkey replacement. Or the second choice. I… I'm going to stop talking now." Yup, those ears were red. "Stitches aren't considered a sewing circle, Barton. Good… to see you too. I have a sealed update on a debriefing for you. There' s enough black ink on it to make it a quick read." He paused looking back to Kitty, Barton, Kitty, Barton and finally added, "No comic section in this one. Sorry to disappoint."
His handshake is gentle. Not out to scare the new fish, it seems. "A pleasure," Buck says, quietly. "I'm James Barnes. I usually go by Bucky, though. I used to be the Winter Soldier." She might know the name, might not. Depending on her clearance. "Here to let Fitz do a little work, do more checkups." And then….Clint. His gaze sliiiiiides to Hawkeye, and his expression goes into that utter neutrality that's usually the herald of Winter popping up to kill people and wreck things. "Barton, did you just call me Mittens?"
Kitty raises an eyebrow, "Well, I'm definately not a lab monkey." Her expression is amused. "It could be why they are so fond of redacting the reports." She shruggs, turning back to Bucky. "A pleasure to meet you Bucky." She gestures toward a bank of computers on a far wall. "Actually, I think I have a diagnostic program with your name on it. If you will let me take a look."
Barton stares blankly at Fitz when he makes the bad animal pun, waiting a full beat of stillness and silence to really drag home the 'What the hell was that?' feeling before snapping back to motion. "Thanks. I mean, I prefer pictures, but I get it that not everyone is up to that level. One day I feel like society will slip back into communication the way the Egyptians did." The box is given up and never mentioned again, though he does glance around for the sealed envelope. "You know, eagle-eagle-snake-star-dude with bad hair. Well, I found that the third quarter of our regional ball-team-game was rather lacking, but thanks for asking."
The blond rambles. He rambles because entertainment and because the prophetic commentary is amusing. Only after that does he turn a glance on to Barnes and essentially matches that killer gaze level for his own, but with a relaxed pop of his eyebrow upward. I'm sorry, but Barton can't take the man seriously after making him the chiquita banana spokesperson. Or he's just really, really good at faking it. "No. /HE/ is Mittens," Barton swings a muscular arm around to point at Fitz, then slides his hand back to pocket, jutting his chin up at Barnes. "You're Bananarama." Of course.
Fitz rolled a look to teh ceiling witha sigh, "I'm neeeever living that down." The popcorn was set off to teh side and from his stack he handed Clint a sealed envelope. Looking back to Bucky he asked having a working respect for the guy, "How's it treating you? Any disruption to neuron sensitivity? Latency between impulse and reaction? Unexplained cravings for a jelly donut?" He paused and confided to Kitty, "Honestly I'm just trying to figure out of the last one is just me or not." Fitz got the BF-Reader (the Beepy-Findey) and gestured Bucky to have a seat to be scanned so Kitty could run the numbers a nd present configurations.
IT's lucky for Clint that Bucky's vastly behind the times. He favors the archer with a blank stare. "What's a bananarama?" he asks, guileless, before turning an even more bemused look on Fitz. "Not me, but one of the kids has an obsession with them, how'd you know?" he asks. 'Kids'. As if the half-dozen plus Soviet-made killer clones were his sons. "They all eat like wolves, which isn't surprising. And I guess American junk food is kind of a shock to the tastebuds, considering what they were fed in the USSR…." He takes a seat without arguing, rolling up his sleeve.
Kitty suppresses a giggle, "Well who wouldn't crave a jelly donut." She isn't going to help Clint stir that pot. Kitty starts plugging the resulting numbers into her program. "So far everything looks like its pretty well in line with normal." While her partner is occupied collecting the data, Kitty turns back to Clint. "So, I know you didnt come by just for the report…" She notices the box on the table. "Where'd that come from?" she asks pointing at the box.
Clint stares blankly right back at Bucky. A beat passes. Then he sighs and drops his chin, hands lifting to brace on his hips; cutting away a most disappointed moment. "Aw, Buckles. No." Without answering the question, he marks that joke up for a loss to the ages as he turns back to Fitz, taking the sealed envelope held out to him and cracking it immediately. Thankfully, Barton is quiet then on in, reading while the rest talk amongst themselves.
Fitz pointed at Clint with one finger vaguely Hawkeye-ward "I didn't see him do it but my money's on Barton. Look before you stick your hand in the box." Just… wise blanket advice. Looking to Bucky there was a grin that formed. Vindicated by the donut! In all earnestness he offered, "Bucky, how are the…kids." Sure he'll buy into that. "They alright? Need anything?"
There's wry laughter at Fitz's question. "They're…..they need a lot. But they won't accept it from SHIELD." There were agents who took out their hatred for the Soldier and his deeds on the men who looked like him, who'd been created for the same purpose. "I wish they could, but…" HE shakes his head. To Kitty, he grins again. "I mean, right? It's hilarious to see them try new things. They're not just carbon copies of me. They have personalities and opinions and talents. I can't wait to see who they're gonna be when they get to be free and whole and sane."
*BZZZT* Fitz, can you please come and report to archives? *BZZT* the radio intercom crackled out. With a sigh he set the BF reader aside so Kitty could use it while he stepped away. Looking to Clint, Kitty, and Bucky he offered, "No reast for the wicked or the wise. This shouldn't take too terribly long. bucky I will be back, promise. Maybe with something for you to bring to them too. No one said you had to say where it came from."
"They won't accept help from the shadowy government double-blind agency that probably devoted major resources to them?" Clint pipes up while he reads, deadpan, then smirks over the top of the page and slips it all away. "Huh. Smart. Shit, /I/ barely want to half the time. But that's a story for another day. Kitty girl, good to see you. Buck, good luck, family man." He checks his wrist watch and pops his brows upward. "I have to go switch all the lightbulbs in a man's house while his cat is out." I. What?
Kitty nods in response to Bucky's comments regading the kids. She takes the BF reader from Fitz an continues to run through the standard diagnostics. "At the very least I think we can send you back with some jelly donuts." She pauses thoughtfully, "Have they tried chocolate with sprinkles yet? Everything is better with sprinkles." She waves as Clint departs.