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annabel mcalistair

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Who: Bucky Barnes (aka Anatoly) and YOU!
Where: Phillipe's!
When: March 29, evening.
What: Bucky is playing the tourist and trying to meet people and stuff.
Warnings: None as of yet!

He hasn't had a chance to make much of a mark in the city yet. In some ways, that is good -- no one to watch out for. In other ways, it is bad; he has very few contacts made. So after playing bouncer at a club for some quick cash, he decides to change that. He's heard quite a lot about Phillipe's in his short stay in Los Angeles, and where was a better place to meet people than in a deli?

So it is there the soldier is seated, at a long table near the registers, sandwich in hand. He feels fairly certain that he's been somewhere like this before; perhaps not in Los Angeles, but the general atmosphere is familiar. He knows better than to think too hard on that, though, it is best to do such things in the presence of Natasha. She knows how to deal with what comes after, whether it ends up good or bad. In any case, at the moment he looks as harmless as can be; save perhaps for the metal arm. He's quite contentedly playing the part of tourist, looking around the building with some curiosity.

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Annabel is in line getting food. She's not been eating much lately and although she had a few good talks today, she's slowly burning out on socializing and in desperate need for something to eat.

But her eyes happen to catch sight of the metal arm and she can't stop staring. Bartholomew, the mechanical cat, doesn't bother staring, he just wanders over to Bucky and hops on the counter and watches the man, tail lazily waving back and forth.

He's used to stares. The arm is somewhat covered, at least, he is in a t-shirt and the one metal hand has a motorcycle glove on, but that doesn't do much to disguise the rest. It has been too hot for long sleeves, lately. What he is not used to is an apparent robot cat, which he is watching a little cautiously.

But Bartholomew appears content to just watch him, so the soldier is going to continue eating his sandwich. Damn if he's gonna let a robot cat steal this deliciousness.

That is not how you respond when a cat stares at you.

Promptly swatting at the man, Bartholomew struts over, wedging his way between the food and the person, letting out a meow and looking expectantly at him.

He is demanding pets. You should give him pets or face the consequences. In this case being denied your sandwich.

Annabel makes a small, embarrassed noise and rushes over to the two of them. "I--I'm so sorry, he's a bit pushy. He rather just wants affection, I think he took to you because...because..." She's not sure how to say 'My cat likes you because of your metal arm' but she's trying.

Well, the soldier has never been much of one for pets. Sorry, cat.

Bartholomew gets a bit of a glare, at that. Come on, man, he's trying to eat! One does not get between a man and his sandwich. But apparently he's not getting it back until he gives the damn robot cat a pet, so he will, though it's brief.

"I think I can guess why," he says to Annabel. "He should know better than to get in the way of someone who's eating."

"He's never had good table manners, I'm afraid." She laughs, a somewhat nervous sound. "I'm really very sorry. I can--I don't know. Do something? I don't know what but something."

Bartholomew doesn't even ave the good graces to look sheepish. He just watches the soldier with unblinking eyes, occasionally batting a paw in his general direction.

Annabel stands there, trying very hard not to look mortified at her cant's behavior.

"Move, koshka," he says to the cat, before turning his attention back to Annabel with a shrug.

"Get him off the table?" There's a very slight amused look at his suggestion. "I don't think the workers will appreciate it if they see him."

"Oh, uh, yes! I can do that!" She collects the cat, wrapping him up in her arms. "I really am sorry. If there's anything else! Anything at ll! I can pay for the food, or your time or...."

She laughs and it's uncertain and nervous, as if she had no idea what to do, which is fairly obvious really.

"It wasn't a bother. Don't worry about it." He's had worse things annoy
him before, after all, and all the cat had wanted was a few pets. He
scoots his chair over and indicates the seat next to him with a nod.

"This your first time here, too?"

She nods, holding the cat on her lap as she settles into the chair. "Yes, actually. I don't...Do this often. Go out, except i suppose I do." She laughs shaking her head. "I've only just moved here and am trying to get my bearings a bit."

"I know how that feels." He's had to adjust, too, even though he and Nat have been on the run for a little while, now. Los Angeles is the newest place they've settled, and it's a bit difficult to get used to.

"This is the best place in the city for roast beef sandwiches, I heard."

She nods. "Good to know, I've heard they have great food, I just needed to get something to eat."

"If you don't mind my asking," she starts in after a moment. "Do you uhm...Where are you staying? I've been looking for somewhere suitable to stay and I can't seem to find anywhere."

"With a friend from home." He shrugs a little. "Have you tried -- a hotel or anything?" He's not about to offer up wherever he and Nat are staying, it's a bolthole for a reason, after all.

"We haven't really looked for much of anything."

"Oh, of course." She smiles. "Hotels are quite useful but I'd much rather have a place where I can set up a proper lab. It's much harder to do that when you don't have a fixed place to work."

She laughs, peering down at Bartholomew. "He needs to be fixed up a bit and I'm getting a bit fidgety, you know? I don't have much work right now and while that's al right, it's a bit boring."

"I guess." He looks slightly askance at the mention of labs, but who knows? Maybe he'll get lucky and she'll turn out to be perfectly normal. (The robot cat, though, is a bit of a giveaway. Even in Los Angeles.)

"I'm pretty sure I'm not in your line of work, or else I'd give you somewhere to look."

She giggles a little. "Probably not. Most people aren't." She tilts her head a little. "hat line of work are you in?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." It's said lightly, but it's pretty clear he's not joking. "It's classified."

"Oh!" She laughs again, this time a bit more nervously. "Well, I bet that's uhm...Very exciting for you. I do hope you enjoy your work."

He shrugs a bit and takes a bite of his sandwich. "It's a job. Haven't found much work here just yet."

"Oh, I see." She frowns a little. "That's rather unfortunate. I hope you can find something?" She thinks. She's not entirely sure that it won't mean someone dies in the process but then again, that's not the worst thing in the world either.

"I've been looking. My friend's keeping an eye out, she's in the same line of work." He probably won't kill anyone! It depends on the job, really.

"Fingers crossed!" She offers a smile. "For both of us, really." She could use a place to stay that is a bit more permanent than what she has right now.

"Thanks." He offers a small one back. "Where did you move here from?"

"I traveled a lot," she informs. "Most recently I was in Sussex. We lived there for a few years but I've been all over. My family believed that exposing one to the world was the best way they could learn and that institutionalized learning would only crush genius."

Hence why her family was so proud when she got kicked out of school when they did enroll her in university.

"I've done a lot of traveling, too. Not in England, a lot, mostly Europe." There's a pause. "I can't say I did a lot of book learning, though." He never had the chance. Never even thought of it, really, and it's not too much of a concern now. He has a certain set of skills, and he excels at them. That's all he needs.

She nods, offering a shrug. "Books aren't for everyone. Some people are much more hands on and I find that it's more fun that way myself."

She runs a hand through her messy hair, offering a smile. "You seem like you've gotten by without needing to do much study in that respect anyway."

"I'm very good at what I do." He offers a shrug back, and takes another bite of his sandwich.

"It gets me places."

'Now that I don't doubt at all." She smiles a little. "You don't seem like the sort of fellow who'd do poorly at what matters."

"I've been trained very well." Trained a few people very well, too, but that's not part of the discussion. "But thanks, I guess."

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