#johnny 1

Pietro tried to say something to Johnny before he whizzed them off -- but it came out more a growl than anything else. Three seconds later they were in a hallway, far enough away that the voices and laughter and music were now distant and muffled. The only clear sound was the skid of the stupid dress shoes as they came to a stop. "I know we just got back together, I'm not stupid," he snapped before Johnny could even open his mouth or give him that look. "But if I have to watch you dance with one more stupid girl, I'm gonna rip someone's throat out. And I'm trying really, really hard --" He stopped himself. Let out a tense breath that shook all the way through him. "I'm trying to be good for you, okay? I'm trying. But I'm only human. Sort of."

It still felt a little strange. Standing in his uniform in broad daylight. The shield strapped securely to his back, a familiar weight he hadn’t realized he missed so much until it returned. Until it was given back. “All right, old friend,” he murmured, reaching up to touch the edge of the shield. “Let’s get started.”

He walked up to the impressive building across the street. There was a fence around the outside, with an intercom system. Steve stared at it for a moment, brows furrowed. He was just about to ask FRIDAY for a quick tutorial (or more likely, to just connect to it), but then he saw a figure approaching. Steve turned to them, nodding once. “Just the man I was hoping to see,” he said, offering a hand out. “I was hoping we could talk about some of these changes that are happening.” 

Melisa didn’t exactly want to be here, but the newspaper had hired her, and it was tied with the unspoken follow up on their end that if she flaked on this job, she wouldn’t get as many jobs. Moving here, at least for however long things would prove to be, Melisa needed money. The cost of moving and her new apartment was taking a hard hit on her savings and she needed to make some money. Starting off as a freelance photographer was always hard, especially when she didn’t have as big of a pool to get customers as she did when she was in New York and LA. So, Melisa found herself taking the job to do some photography for the newspaper. She knew how people dressed, having gone to this same auction growing up and so she had tried to dress casual and hopefully in enough muted colors that she could just blend into the background. There was no telling if her family would be here and Melisa knew there were too many people to run into. Once she got enough photos she could duck out early and hide in her apartment. Having gotten a couple of shots of a little girl dancing on what Melisa guessed was her father’s shoes, she turned to scan the crowd. Only standing right behind her was a familiar form. Gasping, she took a step back and tried to compose herself once more. “Johnny.” Melisa whispered, feeling her heart speed up in her chest, hammering in fear.