shield agent || scrabble cheater

Her meeting had just ended and while she had ten minutes to herself, Ally thought she'd go say hi to a friend. Ally and Liza didn't hang out regularly, but she was a friendly face at SHIELD.

Ally knocked twice before swinging the door open, brows furrowing at first when she didn't see anyone. Then she heard the loud thump, eyes tracking to the desk, and she quickly figures out what is going on.

Ally’s lucky that Liza likes her -- nap time interruptions are practically a cardinal sin in her book.

“You’re not sorry at all.” Liza mutters, but a smile is already pulling at her lips as she runs a hand through her hair while she stands. Seeing Ally is something of a surprise -- and a pleasant one at that. A scoff leaves her lips when she’s asked if there’s no one else. “Please. Who else would be in here? Like I’m canoodling during my regularly scheduled nap time… or ever come to think of it. And you definitely caught me, I’m not prepping for anything.”

Golden brows raise at her question, as if he's silently saying, and...? The smirk still holds residence on his features to keep it all silly and lighthearted despite he's trying to keep the deep desire for her in check. He won't push anything given his current state, even if he wants to. Badly. But he will not put her in that awkward position if he can help it.

But that frays, especially when she teases his forearm with that sensual scrape of her nails, lighting every inch of him on fire. Surely she can see the goosebumps she's raised.

Doesn't mean she can't tease him -- he did ask for it.

When he leans against the counter, propping his chin on his hand, her expression softens to something warm and adoring. Liza can’t help giggling quietly when he teases with his question about her being so tempting while still looking at her like a man starved, but not for food. She isn’t sure if anyone’s looked at her with the same hunger Logan has in his eyes -- a look she isn’t unfamiliar with from him, though. Liza moves closer, hip leaning against the counter as she stands directly in front of him now. “In my defense, you did ask for me to be so tempting…” She murmurs, reaching out to brush her fingers against his hairline, moving his hair from his forehead before she simply just cards her fingers through his hair. This has to be the line, leaning close to him like this, letting her nose gently nudge against his, she knows she’s not going to go further.

The sharp hiss of pain the second he tests the movement pulls his focus immediately back in. “Hey, hey — easy,” he says quietly, instinctively easing the pressure again. His hand shifts just slightly higher against her leg, grounding more than restraining while he watches her expression carefully for another second. “That reaction’s actually helpful. Means you’re letting me know exactly where it hurts.” A pause, then a softer, “Still sorry, though.”

At the mention of surgery, Robby huffs a faint laugh under his breath, shaking his head once. “Alright, noted. No dramatic orthopedic speeches unless absolutely necessary.” He glances toward the monitor briefly before looking back at her, expression calmer now, reassuring without overdoing it. “But let’s not jump straight to pins and screws yet. First step is imaging. Then we see if your ankle’s just angry at you or planning a full rebellion.”

The apology is on the tip of her tongue when he loosens the pressure, but she doesn’t let it slip. If anything, she has a slight inkling he’ll tell her it’s unnecessary. When Robby’s hand moves higher on her leg, she almost waits for it to hurt again, but thankfully there’s none of that same shocking ache. Just a quiet exhale and a nod as she finds his gaze again before a smile starts pulling at the corner of her lips again when he apologizes. “You always apologize for doing your job?” She asks a little teasingly, trying not to focus for too long on the color of his eyes.

Liza feels a little lighter when he laughs, almost like it’s reassuring. Her fists unclench and she twists her fingers together in her lap instead when he walks her through the next steps. She wants to move her foot, the stubborn edge in her wanting to insist that it’s fine, but she knows better, stays still.

A playfully offended scoff leaves her lips and she rolls her eyes. “Please. Do I look like I’m in any kind of shape to be fighting inanimate objects? Though, honestly, depending on the context, I wouldn’t blame a guy for wanting to fight a parking meter.” Liza says before shaking her head once. “No way is guy in room twelve stealing my least nightmarish title. I refuse… well… as long as I can manage to keep myself from passing out, anyway.”

There was no hiding Carol’s enthusiasm for Liza’s suggestion, she smiled and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

      She eyed her companion suspiciously, a twinkle in her eye, “you sure you’re not a superhero? You just saved me three times.”

      Carol realised she had no idea what to wear to the gala. Off world events, she wore a combat suit of some kind, though one which hadn’t seen a fight. She doubted it’d be acceptable on Earth. She thought briefly of the dress Yan gifted her, and while it’d be convenient if she needed to fight, she felt it’d be over the top.

      It seemed she was going to be relying on Liza again.

“Definitely nothing super here… just picked up little tricks. Ways to sneak out of places, excuses to give people that won’t make them question things. Tricks of the trade, I suppose.” A smile curved her lips as she glanced over at Carol again, feeling a little proud of herself for the quick thinking. The next question came as a bit of a surprise -- not because Carol didn’t have a dress, but that she wanted to go shopping with her. 

“Sure… yeah, I’m free. Though… fair warning, I don’t usually do those fancy boutiques in SoHo. I’m more um… I have a handful of vintage and secondhand shops that I favor. The number of times I’ve found great stuff with the tags still on? Blows my mind.” She explained, her smile turning slightly shy. “If that’s cool?”

“Oh.” It's a stupid response. He knows it immediately. But apparently sleep deprivation has reduced his vocabulary to a single syllable. The squeeze to his elbow lingers longer than it normally would because, if he's being honest, it might be the first reassuring thing anyone's done for him in days. He glances back into the apartment behind him—at the baby swing that hasn't worked, the bottle sitting abandoned on the coffee table, the blanket draped over the couch where he'd clearly been trying everything he could think of. Then he looks back at her. “You really don't have to do that,” Robby says automatically.

Another cry from Jane changes his mind.

Robby has to feel as dead on his feet as he looks.

She takes a breath to try and press back when he tells her she doesn’t have to, when thankfully the baby lets out another cry, and he seems to almost instantly cave. “Okay -- the me knowing things you don’t may be overestimating my skill level, doc.” Liza teases lightly as she steps inside, twisting her fingers together as she takes it all in -- he really has tried everything.

“Are you sure it’s not colic?” Her question isn’t judgemental or pressing, more curious to see if his exhausted brain had considered one of the easy answers. She turns to face him once the door closes and listens to the way the baby cries for just a second. “She sounds uncomfortable… can I try something?” 

Maybe a silly question considering she’s already offered her help and he’s accepted -- begrudgingly, maybe, but he let her in for a reason. So, she shuffles closer and holds her hands out for him to pass off the baby. “Does the tiny dictator have a name?” She asks with a small smile before a soft aww escapes as the baby is carefully handed over. “You’re facing a hostile work environment claim, kiddo -- HR takes those pretty seriously…” Liza murmurs softly as the baby squirms and cries, but she sways and hums softly, the hand on the baby’s back rubbing in slow circles.

“I was babysitting for this family with a newborn,” She says, her gaze flicking to Robby quickly before she shuffles slowly to an armchair. “And he wound up with the worst colic, sounded just like this one does… I would come and take him for a few hours so they could rest -- we’d ride the elevator, go for walks, and then an older lady stopped in the park once while he was in the middle of a fit and showed me a trick…”