(no subject)

[jink]

Morning, ladies, gentlemen, those who aren't.

[In slacks and a plain shirt, Samantha is Ms. Wilson today, having foregone the goggles and wings that characterize her alter-ego, the Falcon, which is a name nobody besides herself (and occasionally Rogers, to humor her) (Romanoff also, for a different take on humor) actually makes use of. She props her elbows on the podium and flashes a smile.]

This question's partly professional. I work at the VA counseling center, so booze and weird spycraft is off-limits.

What makes self-disclosure easier for you? Of personal problems, especially?

(no subject)

[captaincocksure]

[Jim moves up to the podium like a man who wears authority well: confident strides, straight back, a clear mission. For a moment it might seem the piazza is in for some rousing speech or recruiting presentation.

But when he turns to face the assembled, there's a seriousness to his expression. A slight drooping of those squared shoulders, as if burdened.]

How do you move on from loss?

(no subject)

[flagg]

Friends. Countrymen.

[ A smiling man, a man lowering the hood of his jacket. A man with a U.S. army coat over that, old jeans, worn cowboy boots, and a beat up Boy Scouts backpack. He's almost like anyone but for a touch of something antiquated about his clothes and the way he talks.

That and the smile. ]

Will you tell me a story? A joke or two to while away the time? I am a man for wanderin', but this seems like a fine place to pull up a chair and take a breather. A fine, safe place, where a story or two could do no harm at all.

And if you like, why, I'll tell you one right back. That's only fair.

(no subject)

[rekindledtitan]

[Nice place, this. Terribly pretty. Amazingly safe. The kind of place an Exo can pull her helmet off for a while and think long enough to find a question worth offering at the podium.]

How are you supposed to know if you’ve 'settled in' someplace? If you’ve made it home?