That Would Be Unprofessional


avi_icon.gif berlin_icon.gif curtis_icon.gif dearing_icon.gif

devon_icon.gif lucille_icon.gif robyn_icon.gif

Scene Title That Would Be Unprofessional
Synopsis There's a hen in the wolves' den.
Date February 28, 2018

The Bunker: Lounge

In the handful of days since Robyn Quinn moved into the Bunker, there has been surprisingly little of her seen. Her room door stayed closed, often silent on the otherside, while her office seemed to be similarly closed and locked - though a few times, the soft sounds of jazz or static acoustic guitars could be heard from the other side, and the sound of things being moved about.

Settling into a new place to live - at least most the time - was not a one day process, and the truth is Robyn had been trying to do it while been seen a little as possible. She hadn't yet had a chance to get used to the feel of a room when she present, to feel out the reactions of the members of Wolfhound to her mandated presence. For someone who was here to observe, she had spent her precious first few weeks doing it at a distance.

It's not that she goes out looking for people - and, possibly inevitably, trouble - but she does have things she could be doing. Today, in contrast to the tailored black suit she wears - the same one she was wearing when Hana had picked her up, with the lace accents at the ends of the sleeves, she carries a small case with her. Her issued pistol rests inside of it, because if there's nothing else she can do today… there's always target practice.

She always needs it.

Cutting through the lounge, however, is fully intentional, curious to see what if any of the "Hounds", as she's heard them refered to, are about today. She still needs to make introductions with the majority of them, after all. They may not want her there, but none of them have much choice in the matter.

Berlin's presence in the lounge is hardly ever a noticable one. She tends to be quiet and off to herself, possibly with a book. But today she's taken over a coffeetable to clean her guns. She has covered the table, at least, so there's not likely to be a mess left behind. But the young woman sits on her feet next to the table, inspecting a pistol. Unloaded, of course.

When Robyn cuts through the room, she looks up from the gun in her hand. Her gaze follows their new roomie as she makes her way along, but she doesn't try to stop her. Perhaps she's not too eager to make introductions.

Opposite the room from Berlin, Devon and Lucille are engaged in a rousing game of Speed. The card game. It's furious and fast — like it's name — and probably why Devon doesn't immediately look up when Robyn crosses through the doorway. Cards move this way and that, stacking then shifting as each tries to finish their deck first. He's intent on winning this time, though he's lost the last two games, but by a very narrow margin.

"Oh, you're slowing down," he tells his teammate. Friendly banter and taunting. "I got you this time…" He may not, but it could finally be a win. By the time Robyn makes it half way across the lounge his gaze darts from the game and toward her, drawn by the movement in his periphery. And that's when his card play begins to slow.

Curtis is largely a keep to himself sort as well. He comes out to train and that's really it. Guns, sparring, things like that. But otherwise he mostly stays in his own room as well. But he does on occasion come out and hang around in the common areas, like the lounge. He's just entered himself a few moments prior and gone in search of coffee, walking over to the coffee maker and starting some if there isn't any made yet. Once that's done he turns, resting back against the counter as he looks over the lounge, and the freshly arrived observer. Curtis offers her a friendly enough nod in greeting. He has no history or connection to her that he's aware of, so no past deeds to color his opinions.

"One.. two..," Lucille's voice carries across the lounge, "Speed." Laying her last card down with a sly grin. She leans back and folds gloved hands and arms across her chest. The gloves a deep blue color today, the velvet material stuff on her skin. Tilting her head at what distracts Devon Her shoulder length bob of auburn hair falls into gray eyes. Quinn. She takes Robyn in.

She makes for a mysterious looking character with that band around her eyes but Lucille does remember her from before on the island, even before then. Doesn't mean the woman has changed, Lucille sure has.

She shifts her weight a bit in her seat as she looks the woman up and down.

As Robyn comes to find not just one, but several members of Wolfhound out in the lounge, her pace begins to slow dramatically. She takes a turn looking to each of them, her eye into theirs as best as she can. In that moment, she is thankful that none of the people she was worried most about seeing once more are present. Half new faces, half passing acquaintences, at least as far as she can remember.

What she doesn't remember, at first, is to talk. It's for an uncomfortable moment that she stands at the edge of the lounge, watching the collected soldiers stare back at her before attempting to return to their relaxation.

"Hello," is a terse greeting as she moves towards the back a pair of chairs to one side of the coffee table, setting her locked case down beside her. She knows Hana has given them some sort of run down on her, and she's read over the dossiers more than a few times. This probably doesn't make it less comfortable for any of them.

Knowing she isn't here to be friendly, she makes an effort to keep her expression impassive. "I don't believe I have had the chance to meet some of you," she offers to them. "Robyn Quinn," in the event they somehow didn't know, a hand motion to herself. She struggles with what to say next. That it's a pleasure to be here with them? That's not even true, much less appropriate. Reiterate her job? Because that'll go over well.

She settles on folding her hands in front of her, looking again to each of them. "Do not take my presence here unkindly." That works, kind of? "On my way to some target practice. Felt right to… reintroduce myself." The more she talks, the thicker her French accent gets. "Face to face."

Nothing about this is comfortable, really. Berlin doesn't help with her staring. She watches as the woman comes over to her table, she watches her put her case down, she watches while silence lingers. But when the introduction comes, she looks back down to her guns. For a moment, it seems like maybe she won't reciprocate. But those last bits, about not taking her presence unkindly, that gets a laugh from the youngest Hound.

"Oh sorry," she says, after the bark of a sound. "Berlin Beckett," she notes with a nod. "How are we meant to take your presence, Agent Quinn?" (fixin')

"With a stiff drink and a kindly go away, I'm pretty sure." Avi Epstein has the timing of a professional comedian at times, which is unfortunately nowhere in his job description. As the Commander comes striding into the lounge, its in his civilian clothes. His knee brace stands out against denim, scuffed and scraped metal showing that he's bad at obeying the requests of his doctors.

Behind Epstein emerges Wolfhound's newest recruit as of last summer, James Dearing. "Folks," James much more quietly insinuates himself into the situation, unwinding a plaid scarf from around his neck. The look he gives Robyn is somewhat measured, though it comes with a non-denominational head nod before he walks over to the window and takes a look outside as he unbuttons his jacket.

Epstein side-eyes James as much as he can, and then motions with one hand to Robyn. "How's your uh, office treating you? I made sure to clean it out personally. I had some of my favorite knick-knacks tucked away in there."

As Robyn speaks, Devon leans back from the cards spread between himself and Luce. He doesn't sit up straight, but rather takes to lounging backward. A sidelong glance goes to the woman across from him, a shared look, perhaps, between teammates, then slants back to the SESA agent. He doesn't reply, at least not in any vocal way. But he watches, in that silent way of his.

Curtis has no problem meeting Robyn's eyes. Eye? Blindfold? Eyepatch? He'll meet something. He looks up from his musings, watching the card game, watching Berlin cleaning her weapon. Just observing. He's doing Robyn's job. "Curtis Autumn." Is the supersoldier's simple reponse, a hand lifting in a half wave at Robyn, though there's a twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth as he watches the whole situation unfold. "Professio0nally." He responds back to Berlin's question with a shrug of his shoulders. "That's really the only way to do it. That or we can all pack up and go home, wherever home is."

Curtis glances to the side as Epstein makes his entrance, a slow nod of his head to the man in greeting, but he goes quiet after that, still standing by the coffee maker as it does it's business.

The auburn haired woman watches the exchange between Berlin and Robyn. Agent Quinn. It's so strange to say. Years ago they were all running from the government and now find themselves working alongside or for them. Luce does in fact share that look with Devon and she leans forward gloved elbows on her knees. Her dark loose fitting clothes hang on her but every inch of her body save her neck and face as covered.

When Avi enters with Dearing, Lucille's blue eyes track the man following the Commander, taking him in. The glance is brief but pointed as she comes back to staring at Robyn, "Hey.. Agent." She doesn't like how this feels already.

Robyn purses her lips. This is about what she had expected - but her inability to comment back is something that is going to weigh on her more than she was prepared for, she can already tell that. Avi's comment is met with- well not quite a side eye, it's hard to do that when you only have one eye visible. Instead, she just lightly shakes her head.

"However you wish," she offers back to Berlin, "Ms. Beckett. Some ways are smarter than others." With a look over to Avi, she offers a small incline of her head in his direction. "Avi." It's Lucille that gets her full attention, though. Something about the way she says Agent doesn't sit well with her.

"I prefer Robyn, to Agent, or Quinn," she notes, trying to keep any undue harshness out of her voice. A hand is offered in Curtis direction. "Mr. Autumn has it right." Hand folded back in front of her, she looks to Berlin. "How I would prefer it."

Devon and Dearling, largely silent, get looks from. More acknowledgement than anything else. "The office," she says, unable to keep a hint of a grin off her face, "is suitable. Enough to do work." Enough to house her whiskey and turntable, at the very least, along with a cabinet she keeps locked at all times.

"That would be unprofessional," Berlin notes, as far as how to address their guest goes. She says it earnestly, too, like she really does think calling her Robyn would be some breach of inter-faction etiquette.

Her gaze flicks over to Avi and Dearling, a hint of a smile coming to her face. Maybe it's for the joke. "Commander," she says in greeting. Because she's very professional, Curtis. And Robyn. "Lieutenant." That's added when she nods to Dearing. And then she looks over to Curtis.

And winks.

It's quick. And subtle. And the young woman turns back to her gun cleaning project as if nothing about this were strange at all, for all that she was staring only moments ago.

Dearing unshoulders his jacket and drapes it over one arm, looking over at Robyn. He seems unafraid of her presence, had been quiet during the meeting but carried himself with a certain blaise poise. It's only now that he explains himself. "When I was a beat cop, my partner got run up on some serious charges. Taking bribes, extortion, the whole nine fucking yards." He walks over to the couch and drapes the coat over the arm with his scarf. "After that, we had a guy from IA up our asses sideways. So," James' head tilts to the side. "I mean, this is basically the same thing…"

As James trails off, Avi chimes in. "Not to cut short another when I was a cop story from Dearing, but we do have some shit about to drop on our plate. I'll leave the details up to the Major at the next briefing, but you may get to see how the Wolves hunt sooner than you expected, Agent Quinn."

Dearing looks up from counting a roll of money he found in his pocket, the news Avi mentioned seemed to be news to Dearing as well. "Lancaster and Beckett did some detective work in the Safe Zone, and it looks like the info's paid off. The Major and I are still going over the details, but we may have another target in our sights."

That said, Avi slowly slides off his sunglasses and folds them closed as he tucks them into a jacket pocket. "Demsky will be back from administrative leave on the eighth of March. She won't be returning to her command position, Lieutenant Gitelman will be remaining in command of Wendigo, and Lane will be her second."

Dearing arches one brow, slowly, tucking the money back into his pocket. "Who's the target?" Dearing asks the obvious question, and Epstein wags a finger at him like he's chastising a baby.

"No peaking in the Christmas wrapping," Avi chides. "Like I said, the Major and I are working on the details. You'll know when you need to know. But…" Avi bobs his head up and down a few times. "This should be a good ride."

Half the cards that litter the table between himself and Lucille are picked up, and Devon settles back to start sorting them into their proper decks. He, for the time being, seems quite content with listening and observing. Which includes looking to the other members of Wolfhound and those in command, taking in their varied reactions to the watcher in their midst. And if he's intrigued by the hinting of an upcoming mission from Avi, it's shown in a minutely longer glance in the commander's direction.

Curtis is not a terribly subtle person himself. He's quiet, tends to keep to himself these days. Well, really since the war. He's been quiet since the war. So the entire time he's been in Wolfhound as well. He arhces a brow at the wink from Berlin, amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth again, threatening to pull it up into an actual smile, but it settles back into a neutral line quickly enough. Then there's stories about being a cop, and Avi teasing the whole lot of them with another hunt. "Good. A hunt will do us some good. Let off some steam, stretch our legs. Let the new Observer see how we operate."

"The IA story wasn't far off the mark though. Miss Quinn is here. She's going to remain here. She's going to observe. And we all need to get used to it. Maybe easy for me to say as I have zero personal connection to her, but it doesn't change the facts." Curtis turns as the coffee maker finishes it's job, and he pours himself a mug of coffee. "Anyone else want some?" If anyone else calls out he'll pour them a mug too. He then steps to the side, finding a seat at a table, sipping from his mug.

Taking that tone of Agent Quinn's in Lucille tilts her head for a second. She looks Robyn up and down again and nods her head. "Noted." She didn't mean to be rude but.. well her tone can be mistaken. She gives Devon another look quickly from her long lashed eyes, she clears her throat and nods at the other woman with a light smile, no harm no foul.

At the news from Avi that Berlin (or Burr between the two of them) and Rumor had done some detective work that has yielded a new target. There's a range of emotions that sail through her mind. A target means a hunt. A hunt means blood. First she looks to Berlin with a raised eyebrow and a light smile. Good work Burr. The newest recruit and Luce's friend had just given them their newest piece of meat. Inside her heart pounds a little, it had been a little bit since the last assignment. She was itching for another.

It's Dearing that gets Luce's eyes as she clenches her jaw at his question to Avi waiting for the answers just as much as anyone else, the scar on her neck pulsating. As Curtis speaks she eyes him without a word.

Avi's antics earn him a rueful grin from the woman. Though the news of Noa taking over command for Wendigo does make her eyes flash for a moment. She's known the woman for some time now, having connected before the war happened. She's sad to hear about Colette's demotion but understands the gravity of the situation and thinks Noa to be a worthy person to follow into dicey situations. People were dead. She was surprised the government hadn't already come knocking on their door for blood.

Not that she would advise that.

Curtis says, "I'm pretty sure the military would just missile strike the bunker if they needed to come after Wolfhound. WAY cleaner. Way less loss of life"

Robyn's head cants to the side, regarding Berlin with curiosity for a moment. She is silent, considering, before she offers a nod to Berlin. "Fair point, Officer Beckett." And it is, she certainly can't begrudge that. Professionalism didn't have to mean proper names and titles all the time, at least in her opinion and experiance - but if that was what was being asked for, she wasn't going to argue.

Her attention moves to Avi as he gives them details on their next outing. Her head tilts slightly, eye looking across the room again. "Good, Commander. I look forward to it." Some of the names, though - Demsky is one that she is still getting used to, and it's a cold comfort that she isn't here, now. That awkwardness can come on it's own later. Lane and the late registering Lancaster draw her lips thin. The two she had been outright avoiding so far.

She offers a nod of acknowledgement to Avi. "For the record, Lieutenant," she adds after the nod, "No intention to interfere like that." To be up their ass, much less sideways. "I look forward to it." Seeing them in action. Not- being up anyone's ass. No.

Berlin looks back over at Avi, an actual smile coming to her face when the pair of them tell them the news. "Oh good," is all she says about it, though. An understated response. Her attention turns to Lucille then, who gets a grin from the younger officer, even if it is brief. She points to herself, then to Luce, then to her watch. Me. You. Later. Now that it's mostly out of the bag, she doesn't seem to feel the need to keep it under the rug.

"Commander?" she starts, trying to get Avi's attention. "Is Ru— um. Is Lancaster okay?" The detective work, after all, had some unpleasant things in it, for Rumor. Berlin's part was only mildly offensive.

"She'll live." Is Avi's not-answer to Berlin's question, and also his cue to depart. "I'll let you all know when we're ready to discuss the next assignment at length. Until then, try'n keep everything in line." He can tell when he's looming in a room, and when the squads need to break, Avi realizes they can't always break with their commanding officer around. He passes up Curtis' offer for coffee, and heads out into the hall without even so much as a goodbye.

Dearing looks from Berlin to where Avi retreated, then shrugs and slips across the floor toward Curtis and the coffee pot. "Hey, been meaning to talk to you about something anyway, Autumn." Dearing offers a conspiratorial look back to Berlin, then comes to settle beside Curtis. "Maybe later, yeah?" A look drifts over to Robyn, then back again. "I got a fun sightseeing locale for ya."

Shaking his head, to what is uncertain, Devon stands. The cards are passed back to Lucille, at least, the ones he's sorted are. The others, the ones that are still unsorted, remain scattered on the table where they were left. "You owe me a rematch," he tells her as he hands the cards over. "You got lucky that last game." He turns to leave and gives one more side-eye look to Robyn before he disappears into the hallway.

Curtis takes a small sip from his coffee mug, leaning back in the chair he's claimed, his legs stretching out in front of him, crossed at the ankle as he watches everyone. "Bye Commander!" Curtis calls after the man, even lifting a hand in a wave, a small chuckle leaving the soldier, before he lets out a soft sigh. There's a curious look on his face when Dearing says he needs to talk to him about something. A lone brow arches upwards. "Me?" He asks, that brow still arched, his look even more curious. "Later is fine. I'm around. Not going anywhere. Especially not with a mission apparently coming up."

A wink is given in reply to Berlin's gesture. Oh you're on. She thinks as she waits for the rest of the people to react to Avi's departure, she offers a nod to his back. As Devon takes his leave as well a small smiles crosses her lips, "You'll lose." Lucille says as she takes the cards to place them neatly on the table.

As people begin to walk out, she stands from her seat and walks over towards Berlin. "You've been busy," she comments as she swings by the table examining Berlin's weapons. The girl was meticulous and it showed. Lucille's eyes take Robyn again closer this time and she dips her head again in her direction, she doesn't totally trust herself to not say something damning. What with the connections to Rue and Colette, it's just awkward.

"If you need anything, let me know." Is offered lightly to the old Ferrymen.

Robyn is perceptive enough to notice when things are going unsaid around her - she isn't surprised by it either. The looks, the eye contact, the lack of eye contact, the way some suddenly dift off and others don't talk entirely. Her expression thins, and she leans back down, picking up the case she had entered the room with. "I'll be on my way," is likely a relief to everyone present. It was a pleasure almost rolls off her tongue, but she thinks better of it.

"Eventually," she starts instead, "you won't need to leave things unsaid." With that, the liaison turns, and continues down the hall, onwards to her original destination of the shooting range.

"Autumn. You should go. They'll be time," Berlin says after meeting that look from Dearing. "Hell, if you don't want to, I will. Hardling anything good to look at around here." Perhaps with the Commander leaving, she feels a little more free to tease her comrades a little. Or maybe she's just that quick to get comfortable with their oversight around.

When Lucile comes over, she scoots enough to make room for her at the little table. "Just following the trail of breadcrumbs." To the witch's house, maybe. She glances over at Robyn, her head tilting a little. She doesn't seem to have anything to add to that comment. Maybe she doesn't agree. Either way, she only watches Robyn go. Staring again.

After eyeing Berlin for a moment, James offers a conspiratorial nod to Curtis and pours himself a cup of coffee. Then, while Robyn is on her way out he cracks a smile and slips a matchbook onto the counter with an address in Staten Island written inside the cover, then flips it shut and slides it over to Curtis.

"Pit fighting," James very discretely says as he brings his coffee cup over his mouth. "Real sporty, showman stuff. Been out there a couple nights as a spectator. Thinking maybe you're up for checking it out?" James raises a brow, sipping his coffee quietly. "Or participating."

It wouldn't technically be against Wolfhound policy, provided nothing goes down that causes problems for the Major. At least, in Dearing's eyes.

Curtis turns his head to look over at James as Robyn makes her exit from the room, eyes taking in the matchbook that is put in front of him. He picks it up and peers at it, then looks over at Dearing. "I used to fight at a place on Staten Island. It's actually where my second self thought his power manifested." Curtis sits up a bit and turns the matchbook over in his fingers. "I could go for a good scrap." Curtis remarks, then tips his head. "Sure, why the hell not. I'm in. Sounds fun." He passes the matchbook back as a little smirk pulls at his lips. "You fought? Or just spectated?"

"It looks like you caught the scent of a juicy witch." Ripe for the picking. Lucille shows her teeth as she grins at the younger woman. She likes Berlin, she's smart, competent as fuck and also funny when you get to know her. Luce had become a little more prickly over the years but the warm person that likes to connect is still there.

Blue eyes flick over to Curtis and Dearing as James brings up the Crucible. Luce gives Berlin a look, not many people knew about her fighting on Staten Island. She wasn't ashamed but she liked to keep some things to herself, Berlin knew of this fact that hence the look. With eyebrows raised she clears her throat, gloved hand going to massage the scar on her neck, it's a habit she has now. "That place is brutal." And fun.

Berlin does not look like someone ready for pit fighting, but she seems to be standing by her statement anyway. Perhaps only to prod Curtis into it. But Lucille gets her attention. "Ugh, please don't call him a juicy witch, I have a hard enough time dealing with him as it is." Her source, of course. Who, despite his usefulness, is not her favorite person ever. "I'll give you the run down. Sleepover?" That word comes with the connotation of pillow fights and too much candy. Only here it's about hunting. Same deal, though.

Her attention moves to the scar when Luce touches it, her expression curious, but she doesn't do more than look. "Do you have to play fair or can the gloves come off?" she asks. Literal gloves, in Lucille's case.

Deering rankles a bit when the two women overhear him. But it's a passing perturbation in his expression. He takes another sip from his coffee, then shrugs as if the question should be self-evident. "It's not bloodsport, if that's what you're asking. Staten Island may be a filthy slum but it's got some ground rules."

Clearing his throat, he eyes Curtis and just gives him a knowing nod. "I'm more of a spectator. I prefer to keep fighting to when I absolutely have to. Things tend to get…" he feigns a smile, briefly. "Things get messy when I start throwing punches."

Content to call that enough, James raises his coffee in a mock toast. "That's enough for me for one day. I'm going to go kick back and read a book. You kids have fun." The latter is directed to Berlin and Lucille.

Curtis only seems to realize he was being spoken to well after the fact, his head lifting to look over at Berlin as she encourages him to go. "Oh I will. Are the ladies joining us?" He asks glancing between Berlin and Lucille. He raises a brow at Lu, a small smile settling on his lips, his eyes travel from her, back to Berlin, then on back to Dearing. He is fairly oblivious a lot of the time. If it doesn't have to to do with combat or mission at least. "Yeah well… things tend to get pretty bloody when I throw punches too. I mean not like your hits but… the only person I've ever come across that could toe to toe me in a straight hand to hand fight was Michael Spalding." He breathes in slowly, then lets it out. "Fuck you Rupert Charmichael." He lifts his coffee mug to his lips and finishes it off before he washes out the mug and puts it away.

"You're on." Pillow fights are a thing. As the topic of the cafe fighting continues Lucille nods her head at Berlin with a grin at the unintended joke, "The gloves do.. come off." Ha ha.

Dearing's kid comment gets an eye roll from Luce and she tucks a hand into her pocket. "See you later Father Time." Her eyes watch his ass as he leaves. Curtis or Ash would remember that snarky attitude from when they first met. There she is. The massaging of her neck is continuing but after a bit she realizes what she's doing and stops it.

She gives Curtis a slight shrug and a raise of her eyebrows. "Who knows?"

Ya you bet your ass you'll see Lucille there. She looks down at one of the guns on the table as she thinks about it all. The impending mission, an upcoming match at the Crucible. A hint of a grin crosses her lips as a heart flutters in excitement.

They're just getting started.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License