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Steve had barely gotten into the car when what looked like a deck of cards was pushed right under his nose.
"What's this?" Steve asked as he followed the hand, the outstretched blazer-clad arm, back to Miss Lewis, his Guide to a New Century (as per his instruction packet) and 'handler' (as read between the lines of his instruction packet).
She looked back at him, decidedly unimpressed. Alright, so maybe he hadn't entirely figured out how to navigate the calendar on his new phone – which apparently contained everything but the kitchen sink these days – and was therefore a bit out of touch with what he was supposed to be doing these days. It seemed Miss Lewis had foreseen that, as she had shown up at his apartment this morning with a cup of coffee and a new Captain America-suit –whatever he needed that for – so all in all, no harm, no foul.
"This is your appointment for the day," she shot back, nodding her head towards the cards in her hand, urging him to take a look.
Leaning back against the comfortable leather seat, he acquiesced and took the cards for further inspection.
"These are cue cards," he noted with a raised eyebrow as he flipped through the thick wad of cards.
"Yes, and I hope your memory is as good as your eyesight seems to be, because you have about twenty minutes to look them over before you have to be able to recite them by heart in front of a video camera," she shot back, turning forwards to inspect the ETA on the JARVIS-GPS over the driver's shoulder.
Steve's brows furrowed as he thumbed through the cards. What was he doing today?
"'Your bodies are changing, and believe me, I know a thing or two about that,'" Steve read out loud in disbelief, before he flipped the card, trying to figure out what this was about.
"The detention-kids are gonna get a kick out of that one. You might want to go in with a bit more conviction though. More bald eagle and Thanksgiving dinners," Miss Lewis noted dryly with an attractively raised eyebrow to accompany the comment.
Steve lowered the cards and looked at Darcy with barely disguised apprehension.
"I don't know what that means," he simply stated, though he had a feeling she was just yanking his chain.
She had been doing that an awful lot since they had been introduced. All with an abundance of pop-culture references and thinly veiled innuendos that had him torn between responding in kind and running in the other direction.
"Does anyone, really?" Miss Lewis replied, with a faux contemplative look on her face that told her that yes, she was most definitely yanking his chain.
He almost called her Miss Lewis – a mistake he only made once at SHIELD before being told, rather sternly, that female SHIELD agents were strong, independent women, who didn't need no man to shoot their enemies (he was still confused about that double negative) and were suitably called agents – but corrected himself before he managed to get himself in the doghouse with the beautiful lady beside him.
This century is confusing. He sighed, letting go of all of the questions he wanted to ask in favor of getting an answer to his most pressing one.
"Agent Lewis, what am I doing today?".
"I'm glad you asked, since you apparently have no idea," Miss Lewis replied with great amusement before she turned her gaze back on him.
"You are making the next line of national motivational and instructional videos for high schools," she continued.
Steve paused, trying to process the information.
"Excuse me?"
"Okay, super-soldier hearing, so I know for a fact that you heard me, so maybe just tell me whatever is bothering you, because now you have 18 minutes to memorize those cards," she quipped, after taking a quick look at her wristwatch.
"Why am I doing this?"
Miss Lewis rolled her eyes, looking like she was this close to start muttering about the egos of men.
"You sort of agreed to do it. It's a part of your SHIELD contract. The one you signed when you were, well, y'know, reheated?" she more asked then stated, apparently trying to figure out a way to say 'thawed' without actually saying 'thawed'.
B minus for effort.
"When did I-" he started before Agent Lewis plowed right on through.
"Okay, so I'm not sure, but I think Coulson might have touched you a bit inappropriately and forged your signature when you were unconscious, he does that sometimes," she noted, sounding more and more like she was speaking from experience and that the might in that sentence was more likely a definitely.
His eyes shot wide open in confusion.
"Wha-"
"I mean, why do you think I'm here? I went to Culver, not Super Saiyan Academy," Agent Lewis continued.
"Super Sai-"
"It's a thing, Google it."
"Google-"
"Okay, library it, or whatever. 16 minutes! I will shove these down your throat and hope you learn by osmosis if you don't get going right now," she ended, effectively finishing her tirade.
The car was silent for all of twenty seconds. Twenty seconds Steve spent awkwardly trying to look like he was memorizing his cue cards and where Agent Lewis seemed to be inwardly stewing, trying to figure out how to smooth out the situation. It didn't take long for her to break. She turned around in her seat, her whole body angled towards Steve, hoping to get his full attention.
He looked at her apprehensively, trying to pretend he had actually been reading the cards (he hadn't).
"Look, I know you're not exactly keen on this sort of thing. I get it, it's not what you signed up for, but sadly the responsibility comes with the suit," she noted and tapped the star on his chest.
Steve sighed.
"70 years, and still that hasn't changed. Only now it's doing push-ups for high schoolers instead of punching out a fake Hitler," he replied dryly.
This really wasn't what he had signed up for.
With a sly smile, Agent Lewis laid a hand on his arm.
"If it's any consolation, Cap, I'd love to see you do push-ups. For science, of course," she noted with a wink.
"For science," Steve agreed, feeling just slightly more grounded at the dazzling smile Miss Lewis – no, Darcy – was sending him.
"15 minutes!".
Even if he was going to play dancing monkey for the US government. Again.