Steven grinned, keeping it easy. "No ulterior motives, swear. Just thought you'd want something to eat. Toast work?"
Maria eyed the plate like it might be rigged, then snagged a slice. "Passable," she said, biting into it. Her gaze stayed sharp, sizing him up, like she was still deciding if he was more trouble than he was worth.
"Thanks." Steven leaned against the counter, the mug's warmth grounding him. The kitchen smelled of coffee and butter—a brief flicker of normal in a life dodging cosmic weirdness and chat groups from other worlds.
"Didn't peg you for toast. Thought you'd be all about green smoothies and gym vibes."
Maria's lips quirked, almost a smile. "Green anything's a scam. And I don't trust carb-dodgers." She chewed slowly, eyes locked on him. "You're up early for a guy who crashed like a vagrant."
"Got layers," he said, shrugging. He kept his tone steady, but his brain was on high alert—stay vague, don't let her sniff out the cash or the gun tucked in his bag. "Figured I'd pitch in before you kick me out."
"Noon," she said, pointing her toast like a blade. "Don't test me."
"Noted." He sipped his coffee, an idea sparking. He needed more time with her, a way to build something solid without her grilling him. Something chill. "Hey, you got a minute before you bounce? Thinking we could take a quick walk. Clear the head, see Bushwick in daylight. Gotta be less grim, right?"
Maria froze mid-sip, one brow shooting up. "A walk?"
"What, I can't like fresh air?" He leaned into a grin, dialing up the charm. "C'mon, five minutes. Show me one decent spot, and I'll quit bugging you all day."
She stared, and he braced for a shutdown. Then her mouth twitched, like she was fighting a laugh. "You don't quit, do you? Fine. Five minutes."
"Sweet," he said, masking his relief. He grabbed his backpack—gun, cash, and all—and trailed her to the door. Maria threw on a jacket, her moves sharp, like she was always half-ready for a fight. *What's her day look like?* he wondered. Spy stuff? Or just a desk job cover?
Outside, Bushwick hummed—delivery guys shouting, murals splashed across brick. Alive, if not exactly friendly.
"So," he said, hands in his pockets, "what's the best spot around here?"
"You're chatty for dawn," she said, not slowing. "Coffee cart one block over. That's my pick."
"Coffee cart? Sensing a pattern." He dodged a cyclist, grinning. "You ever just… kick back? Hit a park or something?"
Her lips twitched. "Parks are for joggers. You?"
"Bench expert," he said, winking. "Best one's by that Knickerbocker deli—prime view of stray dogs scrapping over trash."
She laughed—short, but real. "You're odd, Steven."
"Proudly." He felt a flicker of traction. She was thawing, just a bit. A S.H.I.E.L.D. contact like her? Worth more than his whole stash.
They hit the coffee cart, parked by a mural of a neon octopus. The guy running it, Eddie, gray-bearded and chill, nodded at Maria. "Usual?"
"Yeah," she said, tossing him a few bucks. "And his."
Steven blinked. "You're paying? I'm honored."
"Don't push it," she said, but her voice had an edge of warmth. He got a black coffee, and they stepped back to wait.
[*Ding!*]
The system chimed, nearly making him flinch. Maria was distracted, swapping small talk with Eddie, so he peeked at the screen.
[Skill: Social Manipulation (Beginner) proficiency increased to 8%. Rapport-building slightly improved.]
He kept his face blank, nodding like he cared about Eddie's weather chat. Eight percent wasn't slick, but it was progress.
They grabbed their coffees and walked, the morning sun cutting the chill. A block later, Maria slowed by a tiny park—more concrete than grass, with a lone tree and some benches. Graffiti scrawled the edges.
"This works," she said, nodding at a bench.
Steven dropped beside her, setting his coffee down, backpack at his feet. They sat, quiet for a beat, watching the street pulse. A kid on a skateboard nearly ate pavement, and Maria's mouth quirked.
He leaned back, arms draped over the bench, playing it smooth while his mind churned.
The walk back to her place was quieter, their steps syncing. Nearing her street, Steven spotted a bodega, its tired awning brightened by a stack of flowers—daisies, carnations, nothing fancy but better than weeds. A spark hit.
"Hang on," he said, slowing. "Need to grab something."
Maria's brow lifted, coffee cup at her lips. "Now what?"
"Trust me, it's fast." He jogged over, slipping inside. The clerk didn't blink as Steven nabbed a small bunch of daisies—white and yellow, bright. He paid with a crumpled five, keeping his wad of cash hidden, and was back in half a minute, flowers tucked behind him.
Maria crossed her arms, smirking. "What're you plotting?"
"Who, me?" He pulled out the daisies, offering them with a shrug. "Saw these, thought of you."
Her smirk faltered. She stared at the flowers like they were a puzzle, hesitating before taking them, her touch light, almost careful.
"Ridiculous," she said, softer, no bite. She turned them over, like they might reveal something.
"Nah, just friendly," he said, leaning into the lightness. Her eyes softened, shoulders easing just a fraction.
She was quiet, holding the daisies, studying him. Then she shook her head, a faint smile breaking through. "C'mon," she said, nodding toward her place. "Before I rethink noon."
Back inside, the air felt different—less like a standoff, more like a pause. Maria set the daisies by her mug, arranging them with care, like they weren't just bodega flowers.
Steven leaned against the wall, watching her check her phone, muttering about a meeting. She was lighter now, the flowers leaving a mark.
"Alright," she said, turning, voice crisp but not harsh. "You can't keep drifting—or squatting here. It's messy."
He braced, keeping his face even. "Yeah, I'll clear out by noon, like you said."
She raised a hand. "Not what I'm saying. I know a guy, landlord, owes me. Got a spot a few blocks over. I can hook you up for a bit."
He blinked, thrown. "You're… getting me a place?"
"Don't get sappy," she said, arms crossed. "Not a favor. You're too slippery for the streets, and I'd rather know where you're at than find you loitering again."
He grinned, real and wide. "Maria, you're a legend. A scary, coffee-addicted legend."
"Careful," she said, but her eyes glinted, like she didn't mind it. She scribbled an address on a napkin, sliding it over. "Wyckoff Avenue. Guy's Rico. Tell him I sent you, and don't mess it up. He's not me."
"Nice, huh?" He tucked the napkin away. "Didn't know you'd cop to that."
She snorted, ignoring the jab. Her fingers brushed the daisies again. "And… thanks," she said, quieter, like it took effort. "For these. Mean it."
He nodded. "Anytime."
[*Ding!*]
He ignored the system's chime, keeping his focus on Maria. She was grabbing her jacket, keys jangling, slipping into mission mode. But she glanced back.
"Rico's expecting you tonight," she said, opening the door.
"On it," he called as it shut.
Alone, the system flickered up.
[Skill: Social Manipulation (Beginner) proficiency increased to 11%. Goodwill-building slightly improved.]
He smirked, pocketing the address. A place to stay, a tie to Maria, and a skill ticking up—not a bad morning.
[*Ding!*]
["Solo" Chat Group Task Available]