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Everyone's got to eat, even Captain America. Thus, in his best guise of normalcy, Steve's gone grocery shopping. The fridge was getting spartan and he's certainly not lacking for the funds to be able to fill it again. In a blue plaid button-down overtop a white undershirt and jeans, he's wearing a baseball cap for extra anonymity. Dodgers, of course. Not that it may grant him as much as he'd like.
He's looking over one of the canteloupes in the fruit and vegetables section over the store and, frankly, his expression is bemused. …how in the hell to tell if the melon is ripe or needs more time? He knocks knuckles gently against it as a test and listens to the faintly-hollow sound. Lips purse. That didn't answer his unspoken question. In his grocery cart are all the various sundries one might need to make meals on the fly and have nonperishable goods when one is too tired otherwise. Lots of cans. So many cans. Laundry detergent. Mustard.
While Starfire doesn't really need to eat and has no-one else to cook for it doesn't mean the urge to try new Earthling delights has gone. After all the television, radio and magazines all show that a perfect Earth female needs to be able to entertain! And if she's going to fit in here it can't hurt to at least try the local customs. Even if they are a little outdated. Like having to stop in a store yourself /by walking around with a bag/.
A bright purple ensemble outfit, which thankfully matches her Tamaranean boots, and a trolley filled to the brim with assorted food stuffs. A dozen bags of flour, practically an entire wheel of chedder and several bottles/tins/jars/etc of every mustard product the store sells. Including plain ole mustard seeds. "I wonder why these cleaning products are fruit flavoured…" she muses aloud, holding up some lemon bleach. "Perhaps they act as beverages too.."
The layout of the store itself allows Steve to overhear the comment about cleaning products and beverages. The brain does not compute. Looking over his shoulder, he pauses as memory rifles through faces and comes to a match: Koriand'r — Kori — Times Square a few months back. He's recently thumbed through her SHIELD file in a moment of idle curiosity and quiet around SHIELD headquarters. But uh-oh. No one should be drinking those.
Placing the melon back in its pile of brethren, he then wheels his cart over to the redhead in her brilliantly-violet clothing and pauses. "You're not supposed to drink those," he says quietly, not meaning to startle or to draw unnecessary attention to both of them. "They smell like fruit because people would rather smell that than caustic cleaner." His explanation comes hand-in-hand with a small, true smile. "Kori, right? Steve," he adds helpfully, just in case.
"Oh. Why do they not simply blend the cleaning solutions to have no scent at all?" Starfire wonders, frowning at the bottles before putting the one she was holding back. "I would have thought fruit smells would confuse children and animals, making them unsafe. I am surprised no one considered this before now."
Kori holds out her hand for the ritual shaking of hands. "Hello again friend Steve," she greets. "We talked recently on a street. About the man with business cards that appear from thin air, yes? I hope you have been well!"
"The bottles should have warnings on them that they are not to be tasted," he explains, turning one about to show Kori the symbol dictating them to be poisonous. Rotating the bottle back about on the shelf, he then takes her hand with gentle pressure and returns the shake, his smile still unfailingly polite.
"I have been well, yes, thank you." Steve remembers that conversation now that she's mentioned it, and especially the man in question. Ugh. Still gives him the heebie-jeebies to think about the meeting they had. No one should be able to just open circles upon Australia. "And how about yourself?" He looks to the contents of her shopping cart and notes the large number of mustard types within. "…are you making something with mustard?"
"Oh! That is what that means?" Kori says with sudden understanding. "I thought perhaps they meant they should not be applied to bones. Which in hindsight I suppose is not something people typically seem to do. I have been well! I flew my new lawyer friend to the Caribbean for a beach break. They are helping me with some documentation I am applying for." She glances at her shopping basket. "I plan to bake the straws of cheese. They contain mustard, cheese and pastry. But I am still getting used to the cooking appliances, so I may need to try several times before they come out as I would like."
Steve's brows lift and he nods, looking from her and to the contents of the cart again. "Cheese straws. Those are good," he offers by way of opinion. He sees his particular brand of mustard as well within Kori's collection and makes a mental note. Maybe one time, he can shock all of SHIELD by arriving with his own baked batch of cheese straws. Steve Rogers, domestic, le gasp.
"That's some lawyer, flying you out to the tropics. I didn't think they were allowed to do that. …maybe client-laywer privileges or something." He shrugs, not terribly bothered in the end. "Who's your lawyer then? They sound like a nice person."
"I hope they well be good. I have never baked before," Starfire admits. "My family had an entire kitchen staff to prepare for special events. And I attended a school which did not really teach such things. It was a… what is the term in English… finishing school? A boarding school? It was a lot more focused on arts, science and… sports."
She beams. "Oh I think you misunderstood me. I flew her there. Myself." For a moment she lifts off the ground, floating just enough for it to be obvious, then landing. "Her name is Jennifer Walters. She is very nice, we had cocktails. The equatorial regions of the planet are quite delightful in the Summer."
Huh. Steve has a moment of separation from the conversation as he considers what an alien finishing school might comprise — but then the name-drop. It brings him back faster than a trapdoor opening beneath his feet.
"Wait, did you say Jennifer Walters? Miss Walters? About this tall? Green skin?" He holds up a hand above the height of his head, surprise plain on his face. "She's my lawyer too," he explains even as his mouth splits in a moderately incredulous grin. "And cocktails. I'm almost jealous."
Starfire nods, then shrugs "Yes but do not feel too bad neither of us can really get drunk, except perhaps on Asgardian beverages. I have been trying out various drinks from around the world. Cocktails are one area I had not explored in much detail. I think the cabin we used was borrowed from one of her friends. Perhaps she can put you in touch so you could rent it and enjoy the beach?" She tilts her head. "Of course that is providing you are able to take a break from your employment. I have been told that there are both cultural and contractual restrictions regarding travel."
Steve nods, leaning his weight lightly on the side of his cart. He scoots his cart a little more out of the way of a passing matron after giving her an apologetic tuck of his chin before looking back to Kori.
"You probably mean 'vacations' and yes, I don't them often." Read: never, but that's not entirely out of his control. The Captain is a busy bumblebee. "Too much to do." He's unable to expand further on that thought because espionage is a secretive business, after all. "I'll have to ask her about the cabin. I've got a friend who could use a vacation. He and his girl would probably enjoy the time in the sun."
"Would it be rude of me to ask what you do for a living?" Starfire wonders, with innocent curiosity. "I hope it is something you enjoy if you have to spend all your time doing it. Otherwise that would be quite dreadful." She picks up another random cleaning product and inspects the back. "The nearby beach was quite private, so it would make a good place for a couple to visit."
"I enjoy it, yes," Steve replies thoughtfully, his gaze gone distant and averted to one side. "I work in…information acquisition with an emphasis in democratic dealings. It's hard to get away from. The world's changing in new ways every day." Hey, it's not a lie, just…only most of the truth from the man. "Privacy is a good thing. My friend certainly appreciates his," he adds with a little shrug.
"That is a very strange job title. Perhaps you should ask your employer to come up with a snappy motivational job title!" Starfire suggests earnestly. "I am currently a student of sorts. Not with any academic institutions, but I travel and read a lot. For a while I had a very nice reading spot on the Moon but then it became very /busy/ up there. So I stopped going. Thankfully I had not left my library book there or the late fee would have been dreadful. So now I prefer to fly out to little islands for my study breaks."
Pardon the staring from Steve. He realizes he's doing this after a moment and blinks a few times, giving a little laugh of astonishment.
"I can't imagine the fee for leaving a book on the moon," he agrees. "At least you're able to get away from all the bustle of the city to do your studying. I have to do my reading late at night at home. A good idea, though, the motivational job title. I know exactly who to ask at work." He grins. Oh yes, he knows precisely who, and it'll be hysterical to see what Mister Barnes has to say.
"Back home in my… native country… which was Monaco people with jobs like yours would often simply say they worked for an embassy or diplomatic service," Starfire muses, then with a bright smile she adds "I suppose a few of them may have been spies! But we did not really have very many of those I think. There was really not very much to spy on." She shakes her head. "I am thinking I have watched too many of the movies lately. Everyone in these tales of Bond, James Bond seems to be a spy. It all seems /very/ unrealistic and far fetched. Like the man with the fingers of gold."
Looking around him out of habit, the Captain then attempts to look nonplussed at Kori's nearly-accurate description of what he gets up to a good amount of time when not blazing about with spangly gear and starry shield.
"Those are good films. He's one suave character, that Bond. Always gets the dame." He smirks almost to himself. "I think that's fair, however, saying that I work for an embassy. Perhaps…diplomatic representative would be best," Steve allows, his laughter found in the small lines about his eyes.
"I have some cultural issues with them and find some aspects puzzling because I do not understand the things they reference," Starfire admits with a sigh. "And I find it unusual the female characters are typically quite predictable and unimportant to the narrative.
"But I /do/ like the elements of morality they impart regarding justice and the value of doing the right thing despite personal risk. There could be more songs though. I do like a nice musical number. Perhaps I shall find the time to learn a local musical instroment. Friend Gwen had many in her basement. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if I give them a go."
"Maybe one day they might take the risk and make a musical Bond movie. It's possible. The world is changing quickly these days. I don't disagree with you, however," and Steve's entire mein takes on a mildly melancholy note. "They could use a strong female spy in those movies. They underestimate what she can do." He realizes that he's probably staring vaguely at Kori now and comes to as he dredges himself up from the sudden rush of memories. A short sigh and he gives her a winning if reserved smile.
"Pardon me, Kori. I meant for this to be a short shopping trip. I have to go into the office still and the cold stuff needs to get into the fridge." Indeed, the milk is already beginning to noticeably warm up. "It was good seeing you. I'll be sure to say hello if I see you again. Good luck with your cheese straws."
"It was very nice meeting you again friend Steve," Starfire enthuses, beginning to push her trolley towards the check out area. "And yes, I had forgotten that many of these ingrediants will spoil if I do not get them back quickly too. Thank you for reminding me! I will have to ensure I fly quickly. If you run into friend Jennifer before I do send her my regards! And if not then I shall send her yours."