nysalogs | closed; a man walks into a bar

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closed; a man walks into a bar

Who: TJ Johansen (

stargatemedic) & Brock Rumlow (

ukase)
What: Drinking and dares (maybe)
When: Several days after their first bar meeting
Where: The Frosty Tap Cantina
Warning(s): TBD

It was easier for TJ to tell herself that she was following up on a patient than it was to admit that she'd had enough of New and Exciting™ and needed a bit of a break. Where 'following up on a patient' didn't usually entail going to a bar, she felt justified in the fact that his bones had fallen out of his body at the bar, so she could reexamine his hand at the bar.

Maybe it was better to get a drink in her before she started talking dares or anything else.

Despite it being a night out, TJ had still dressed in something resembling her former uniform; absent the pants, she'd pulled on jeans instead, but the Air Force shirt remained. Hair stayed up and she'd even brought her small medkit, just in case anything inside it was needed.

Finding a (relatively) quiet table in the corner nearest the excitement, something that hadn't clearly started up just yet, she ordered something that appeared tame and waited for her new acquaintance to arrive.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I've survived this long on my own patch jobs, so I can't be horrible at them," he pointed out with a grin. She might take issue with his methods, but they worked. He had had to run some operations alone and with no support, one learned how to take care of themselves even in violent situations. He had learned how to sew himself up pretty well.

Though, he paused with his glass half raised to his lips when she said she was planning on being there for his injuries. He figured it would mean the experiments, not if he ran off into operations to protect people or just... push a political agenda of his own. He watched her for a long moment, then down the rest of his cup.

"You gonna have my six, is that it?" It took a real soldier to actually say that. Most people he had met were less... cohesive, more willing to be the flashy first into a scene and wanting to wow everyone with their abilities. That wasn't how a military operation worked generally; they were a team.

Something in her words were a bit too serious for the joke. He sobered and lifted his hand for another drink. "Yeah, I know. There's order in pain. It's a great driving force for some who know how to make it their own."

Honestly, he's still alive, which puts him in a category all his own. Most soldiers (men and women) aren't capable enough to patch their own wounds and, like they've already discussed, men in general are whiny infants, so she has to give him credit for that, too.

"I'm gonna be there to make sure you have someone to watch out for you if you need it," is her reply, utterly serious. "As much as you want to be a badass all on your own, someone has to watch your back and be there to pick up the pieces." Sure, he can go it alone and is probably good at it, but TJ has seen enough people do things on their own and end up in trouble. Even if she's not right there, she can be there when he needs her.

Not quite ready for her own refill, she watched as he downed his. "Look at you, trying to catch up." It's followed by a wink and a grin.

Old soldiers were often the most dangerous. They had survived and become skilled in the art of war and killing. Rumlow had seen more than his fair share of combat, been wounded and still kept going back to the next battle. He had done plenty of field medicine, learned as he went, but he could never doubt the skill of a medic in the heat of combat either. If she wanted to keep him in one piece, he certainly wouldn't put up a fight about it.

"No one's said that to me since I came here," he said thoughtfully and maybe the alcohol was starting to loosen him up. He relaxed more in his seat, and he snorted at her comment. Loyal type, was she? That seemed rare even in these parts. "You might be picking up weird pieces falling out of me if this... ability shows up in combat. Maybe I'll become a living jigsaw puzzle for you."

He grinned and his next drink arrived maybe a tad too quickly for his likes. "Well, if I'm going to embarrass myself, why stop the inevitable, right?"

Listening to him talk about puzzles and pieces of his body, TJ just shook her head.

"I'll be honest, I prefer my puzzles in the thousand piece range and being put together on a table that isn't for combat surgery," she told him wryly. "Nor do I want to see you in a thousand pieces, despite the fact that we're gonna do experiments on--" She motioned with her hand to indicate all of him, then shook her head again for both emphasis and to indicate her sudden disapproval.

His grin, however, was contagious and she couldn't keep up the mock disdain for long, especially when he mentioned embarassing himself. "Oh, this I've gotta see."

Rumlow huffed noisily and took up his next drink when it arrived, lifting it as if in tribute. At this point, he was starting to feel the effects of his previous alcohol consumption, but he was still a big man so he could take a lot more. "I bet I could be about a thousand pieces if you needed the challenge."

He shrugged his shoulders. She had sold him a little more than previous when it came to finding out more about this oddity that occasionally happened to him. It seemed like he had at least an ally in those ventures, and she had proven to have know how in the medical field.

He took a sip from his newest drink. "You better keep your distance. I'm told I get handsy, and that's why people always take me out of the public eye before I get a harassment charge." Rollins had been excellent on gauging his drunkness and keeping him out of trouble.

"Yeah, let's put that off until the second experiment," TJ said with an actual laugh, aware that he probably could still be put back together at that point and not entirely sure she could do it herself.

She appreciated the vote of confidence, she really did, but doing surgery under forced conditions had been nerve wracking and she suddenly was struck with the knowledge that she was here and no one who knew her was there, too. It was daunting - in that moment - to be trusted by someone new and not because he had to, but because he chose to.

Shaken from her thoughts when he mentioned getting handsy, she took it as a joke and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Don't threaten me with a good time," she teased in return, then added, "I'm sure we can make an exit if you start grabbing too many people."

"Just the second? Man, you're a slave driver on these experiments," he replied, though he was grinning again. He figured that it would take longer than two experiments, since he couldn't actually control what was happening to him. He wasn't even certain that it would happen again, even if a part of him thought that it would given the right stimulation.

Rumlow shook his head slowly at her, almost pitying her. She had no idea what she was dealing with. "If you like a hand grabbing your ass or sliding around your waist, that's exactly what might happen. I'm serious. I have been slapped so many times," he said, and yeah he had deserved it too but come on, he only wanted to touch. "The moment I start reaching, you better get me out of here or it all goes south quickly."

While it might take longer for that kind of thing to happen, TJ still didn't want him to go throw himself off a bridge - just in case. If banging his hand took the bones out of his hand, then what would a heavy fall on the ground do? Extra bones everywhere? It was a daunting thought and she was actually impressed all over again that he was going to allow her the opportunity to, well, test her skills.

"I can grab back if you get that familiar," she told him with a Look, not aware of how serious he was. "But a lot of it is just redirection. Moving a hand to a place that's not nearly as offensive. I appreciate the heads up," she added with a wink. "It's not as much of a shock if I know it's coming. But if you grab other people, then we'll have to leave. I'd like to come back at some point."

"Well, I might enjoy that," he remarked with a smirk. It usually landed him in trouble or at least someone's bed if they decided that his advances were worth a reply in kind, and he wasn't entirely looking to move their partnership in such a way. They seemed like they had potential to be such a good team after all.

"As a woman, I feel like you've had to endure shitty men grabbing at you," he reflected. He had seen it a lot when he was a kid, didn't entirely understand it until he was older and he certainly appreciated when it made a woman uncomfortable. "You can push me in the snow if I grab too many passing people, fair?"

"Foreplay? I'll be careful, trust me."

As someone who'd slept with her CO, she wasn't looking to instigate that with someone else, especially where she was the higher ranking officer. Not to mention, she had decided long before she'd landed in this place that the single life was for her - with no offense intended to the man across the table. She was sure he was a nice guy, but he seemed like he was holding a torch as it was and she definitely didn't need any more entanglements.

"Not as many as you might think," she said thoughtfully. Her expression turned almost gleeful. "Can I push you in the snow for fun?"

"You better. Neither of us seem prepared for that kind of escalation."

Rumlow was fully willing to sleep with her, probably with most people, but he wasn't about to enter into any kind of emotional relationship. That wasn't how he operated, and since Jones was jammed back in cryo, it was a reminder that he was better off not getting attached even to the giant assholes of this place. He had a job to do and that was to survive and now apparently subject himself to intense experimentation.

"You can push me in the snow for fun, but if I get frost bite, I expect you to feel bad about it."

He was right in his guess that, at least for her, that kind of escalation wasn't something she was prepared for. Some people were good with sex and no feelings and that was something she'd had to master before - at least on the outside. It hadn't been a good thing for her, either professionally or personally, and she'd determined that sex + no feelings wasn't something she was very good at.

No sex at all was the life she was prepared to lead.

"I don't think I'll feel all that bad about it," she confessed on half a laugh as she watched him with his drink. Taking another swallow from hers, she added, "At least until later when I had to treat it. Or watch you try and explain to someone else how you got it."

Making a face that somewhat resembled a wince, she shrugged. "I think you'll be okay as long as you don't sleep in the snow."

Her silence was enough to confirm that anything more than what they had now was what she wanted. No pressure from him, but it was good to know where the line in the sand was. Better for them both. It was a complication neither of them actually needed.

"If you pushed me in the snow and I nearly died, I wouldn't let you treat me," he replied, feigning like he was sulking. That was a lie all the way, since she was probably the only one with medical knowledge he'd let near him at this point. "I have no problem bullshiting my way out of my injuries to other people. Just make up an extravagant story and watch them roll their eyes and walk away."

He took another sip, and he was pleasantly buzzed. The world was warm, and his brain just fuzzy enough to make him looser. "Snow ain't so bad. I've slept in it before."

"You're not going to nearly die if someone pushes you in the snow," TJ said with a roll of her eyes. "Honestly, men can be such babies."

They'd already established that, but it felt like it needed to be repeated, what with the way he was clearly exaggerating the way he was going to react. She knew he was joking, but it was fun to see him like this - almost relaxed, clearly kidding. "I have no idea that a fair share of people have rolled their eyes at you and walked away," she added with a laugh. "It seems like that's something that just happens."

Propping her chin in her hand, she eyed him. "Why would you sleep in the snow?"

"I might if I get cold and wet. Hypothermia is a real underappreciated killer," he said with a shake of his head. He was mostly joking still, since he knew the risks and how to prevent them. He didn't think she would leave him in the snow anyway even after a push.

He snorted, took another sip of his drink and slouched in his chair, loosening up by the minute. Some of his military bearing and his caustic ways dropped too, and he smiled more freely and more often. "I do exaggerate a lot, but all the same, people don't walk away from me nearly as often as you would think." It was probably the fact that he could kill them if the order was passed down the line. "And you haven't walked away from me yet, but we both know that's because I'm going to further your career."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Mission. I was out on the tundra, no other choice, so I dug in and slept in the snow. It's surprisingly warm."

While it was true she might push him into the snow, it was also true that she wasn't going to leave him there. She was glad he could take a joke and seeing him lighten up as the alcohol hit was interesting in a good way; he wasn't a bad looking guy and the way the easy smiles came across his face made him seem genuinely nice. She wasn't sure it was something he was ready to hear, so she soaked in the knowledge and let it sit.

"Further my career? I'm not sure I have a career here. The Air Force doesn't exist and there's no medical school, so. It's just you and me and seeing what limits we can push. How far we can go." She lifted her shoulders in a shrug and half-toasted him before polishing off her drink. It really needed to be her last.

His story made her tilt her head. "I can imagine that. Igloos are surprisingly warm, too. I'm guessing the concept is the same. Tell me more about your missions."

"Exactly. With me leading the way with bones flying out of my hands, you'll have a reputation in no time," he said with a warm laugh. God, he should stop while he was ahead or he was going to live to regret everything. Where the hell was Rollins to down his drink for him and slap the back of his head? Right. In cryostasis still.

"And don't flatten your ability. You're a medic, trained by your country to save the front line and keep them pushing. That's valuable." He grabbed his drink, considered it and his rapidly rising state of drunkenness and sighed, putting it back down. He was totally going to end up in the snow tonight.

He shrugged his shoulders and considered the information. "We in a northern totalitarian country, and we had to hit a transport truck and steal their governmental technology. It was difficult because it was dead of winter, they have soldiers that literally can curb stomp anyone, and we had do it with no casualties." He sighed and closed his eyes a moment, leaning back in his chair. "If we were captured, we had orders to shoot ourselves to prevent information being tortured out of us. Thankfully, we did the hit, got out and everything was hunky dory."

"I'm not doing this for just anyone," she pointed out with purpose. "You're my only experimental patient and I'd like to keep it that way. I'm not trying to gain a reputation for being the medical professional who encourages her patients to be reckless with their health. So, consider yourself valuable. I'll keep you pushing and this--" She pointed between the two of them. "Can be our dirty little secret."

Her tone was teasing, and she had a feeling that Rumlow wouldn't be offended at the insinuation that he was anyone's dirty little secret for any reason, but the truth was that it wasn't exactly professional to do what she had decided to do. He was special in that way.

Watching as he contemplated his drink, she settled in as he started his story, nodding along as he told it. "No casualties on their end. Shooting yourself if you're caught counts as a casualty, I'm guessing." Her tone was dry. "And I'm guessing you got out without frostbite."

Again, with the teasing. This is why she needed to not drink.

"Oh so this is all for my benefit?" He grinned, aware that they were both potentially going to benefit - and maybe suffer - for these little experiments. He didn't mind being her personal guinea pig. If anything, it gave him a reason to see if these powers were anything to write home about. "I'm your dirty little secret now? Goodness, I haven't been one of those in a good long while."

He laughed freely and openly about the notion of it, taking amusement rather than offense that she would call him her dirty secret. Now there was a title that he could definitely get behind. Okay, now he took another sip from his drink, toasting in his own way to that.

"Nah, not really a casualty, since I'm sure I'll be sent home eventually," he replied with a shrug. "Those kinds of missions were commonplace for me. And yeah, I made it out just fine and dandy. I am good at what I do," he said with a hint of pride. He wasn't generally an arrogant man, but he did take pride in his work.

"I really doubt that's true," TJ gave as a rebuttal. "I have a feeling you're used to being someone's dirty little secret."

Was that a smile? Was that almost... flirting? She stopped as soon as she did it, then looked at her empty glass before shoving it away in time for the server to show up again. "Water. Please."

More water, definitely time to sober up. And, listening to his reasoning, her brow furrows. "Sent home? From what I hear, there's no more home to go to." And, adding to the sense of pride she could see, she felt it for him. For her fellow soldier. "I bet you were. I can feel that about you."

It wasn't arrogance she was reading from him, but that pride one gets in knowing a job was done well. That people were safe. She couldn't fault him for that.

"Such an accusation," he said with a shake of his head. He also didn't actually deny it because he was. It wasn't generally in the way that people would expect a dirty secret either, but he didn't have to clarify that if it came up. He simply smiled and was willing to let the subject go.

He swirled his alcohol in his glass, nodding to the waitress. "Make it two," he added because he would need to balance out the alcohol so that he wasn't too dehydrated the next morning. He wasn't particularly someone that suffered much from hang overs, but the effects were still annoying if they decided to crop out. It was better to not risk it.

"Yeah, that's true. Maybe I'll be stuck here forever trying to figure out a niche for myself," he reflected, but he gave it a shrug. It didn't matter. He mostly wandered in this place so far. "That's what years of service, good instinct and some luck will get you."

"Something tells me that you're the kind of guy that doesn't have a lot of trouble finding a place for himself."

It comes out a little more serious than she intends for it to and she watches him as she says it. Too many psych evals on Destiny and suddenly she's a Real Doctor or something, but suddenly, she's studying him. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just think you're the kind of guy that'd blend into his surroundings and do what he needed to in order to make it."

And whether that's good or bad, she's certainly not going to be a judge of and her tone implies such. She's merely making observations. "And I only say that because I wonder if you believe in luck."

"A lifetime of practice. I operate just as well alone as I do in a group. What about you? Seems like you appreciate a group a bit more, what with you needing patients and all that."

Rumlow had endured and lied his way through so many psyche evals in his lifetime. They were a necessary evil when working for SHIELD, especially in the line of work that he had to perform regularly. Killing people meant more often check ins, but he was a master of lying his way through them, or if he was lucky, he had a HYDRA assessor and they just shot the shit. There were very few instances where he was rattled, mostly in his younger days, and then he was sent for some quiet time and offered special treatment with a HYDRA medical facility.

"You'd be right. That's how I've lived and been trained," he said. Mostly liked. He had started out very young learning to blend into a situation. "I guess luck exists, but I don't put a lot of stock into it."

"You can be alone even in a group. Sometimes, it's easier to work alone, though, and that's something I understand. Sometimes," she added, "being the only medic on board a ship isn't a choice, it's an unhappy accident."

Eyes wide as she pointed it out, TJ sighed a little, then shook her head. "But that's a conversation for another time. Instead, I'll just agree that luck isn't something to rely on. Skill and good habits." She looked at him. "Or maybe just skill."

And, like that, she was back to teasing him.

"Depends on the number of the crew you're stuck with. I can imagine too many people would be overwhelming, but it gives you a ton of practice." He thought that she had had to handle it well if she had all of her capacities intact, or she was brilliant at hiding it all. With alcohol on board, that was definitely more difficult.

"No, good habits have a place as well," he agreed with a nod of his head. "Both set you up with success, but it doesn't account for the skill of the other person you're facing off against. Sometimes there's just that lucky shot, that one in a million chance that takes you down."

He smirked at her. "Well, I am very skilled."

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