Sir Nicholas Fury (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hermajestysfury) wrote2008-04-26 10:50 am
hermajestysfury) wrote2008-04-26 10:50 am
Entry tags:
420: Research
"You won't find most of them here." Rogers says, staring at the long braids he's worn for years. Sir Nicholas just grunts, bending over the books, "You could keep them." the older-looking man points out, "They would make you distinct, yes, but also hide your identity a bit. Who do you say I will not find?"
Sir Nicholas is adjusting. Not well, not gracefully, but he is adjusting to this world and the things he needs. The clothing is uncomfortable, foolish, hard to move in. The shoes are nowhere near as sturdy as his boots were. Even the colors are annoyingly different; blue and white rather than the deep purple and gold that he wore for so long.
The two, squalid rooms which he and Rogers are sharing remind him uncomfortably of youth as an orphan, as under and uncovered by the rule of law. That is, he must admit, close to the truth. It still disturbs him.
He thinks that it disturbs Rogers, as well. Every now and then he looks up from his near-frantic reading to see the other man looking at him with an expression of mixed anger and sorrow. He had been friends with Nick Fury, the man who Sir Nicholas so much resembles, for close to a hundred years before Nick died. "Would that other Fury betray you? Would he lie to you?" and "That other Nick Fury you knew? I'm not him."
They've had their fight over it, yes, but Rogers hasn't forgiven Sir Nicholas for not being that other Nick Fury. So be it. is the knight's opinion, We have a common goal, and then I shall go my way and he shall go his.
Eventually the silent but accusatory stare becomes too much, and Sir Nicholas stands, "I must take the air. I shall return anon." It is the kitchen door he opens, not the hallway one. Open, close, open, close, open...Milliways.
Sir Nicholas is adjusting. Not well, not gracefully, but he is adjusting to this world and the things he needs. The clothing is uncomfortable, foolish, hard to move in. The shoes are nowhere near as sturdy as his boots were. Even the colors are annoyingly different; blue and white rather than the deep purple and gold that he wore for so long.
The two, squalid rooms which he and Rogers are sharing remind him uncomfortably of youth as an orphan, as under and uncovered by the rule of law. That is, he must admit, close to the truth. It still disturbs him.
He thinks that it disturbs Rogers, as well. Every now and then he looks up from his near-frantic reading to see the other man looking at him with an expression of mixed anger and sorrow. He had been friends with Nick Fury, the man who Sir Nicholas so much resembles, for close to a hundred years before Nick died. "Would that other Fury betray you? Would he lie to you?" and "That other Nick Fury you knew? I'm not him."
They've had their fight over it, yes, but Rogers hasn't forgiven Sir Nicholas for not being that other Nick Fury. So be it. is the knight's opinion, We have a common goal, and then I shall go my way and he shall go his.
Eventually the silent but accusatory stare becomes too much, and Sir Nicholas stands, "I must take the air. I shall return anon." It is the kitchen door he opens, not the hallway one. Open, close, open, close, open...Milliways.