Clara Lewis: S.H.I.E.L.D agent, New Yorker, accidental time traveller- wait what?!
Clara thought being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent made her life as crazy as it would get. Ever since her accident in the field, she'd become a desk agent but working as Phil C...
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The streets of Brooklyn looked particularly beige in comparison to the usually brightly lit and stimulating screens Clara was used to seeing. Most of the buildings were built out of brown brick and had faded in their age. Although Clara had to admit, the nightlife did exceed her incredibly low expectations as she did see several bars with luminescent signs in the windows. But Howard's car didn't stop at any of them. In fact, he took her to a relatively low-key bar, hidden way in a dark corner.
Clara had no idea what to expect but it sure as hell didn't live up to it. Even the most plain of bars that Clara had been to had a somewhat lively atmosphere at this time in the evening but this one was close to empty. Howard must have seen Clara frowning and leaned in to whisper in her ear.
"Don't worry, it livens up by 9."
Sure enough, it did. The only problem was that Clara and Howard and different ideas of what lively meant. In Clara's youth she had gone out to countless bars and clubs, all of which had been teaming with people at the bar and on the dance floor alike. This bar was filled with about thirty people. Sure there was a crowd on the dance floor but the dance floor was just an empty space where the tables had been pushed back. This was the only bar she had been to where people had actually danced. There were couples everywhere doing fully choreographed swing and jazz dances as song after song played over the tiny wireless radio. There was a fair crowd at the bar too and Clara was glad to see that she wasn't the only girl sat alone. The women far outnumbered the men by more than half. How many of these women had seen a husband or boyfriend leave for war? The busy and jovial atmosphere made her almost forget what was happening not so very far away.
Howard came up to her after a while, swaying to the upbeat tempo of yet another jazz song, struggling not to spill his drink.
"I can't leave a pretty girl all alone with no dance partner!" He yelled as he slammed his glass down on the bar, sending the remainder of the liquid sloshing over the rim and onto his hand which he then held out to her.
"Oh! No thanks!" Clara said and Howard stumbled backwards, his hand flying to fan his poor broken heart. "I never learnt."
"Never learnt? What do you do for fun in the future?" He mused far too loudly and far too jolly. How much had he had to drink in that brief window she had let him out of her sight. Howard had sauntered off into a crowd of young and more than eligible women where he would no doubt find at least one dance partner. Having had enough of the heat in the bar emitted from the sweaty bodies of dancers and the thick layer of cigarette smoke, Clara slipped outside to get some fresh air.
The night was colder than she expected. Howard had spent quite a substantial amount of money buying her era appropriate clothing in the first week she had been here and this dress, the only dress he said was suitable for a night out dancing, revealed more of her skin to the biting cold than she would have chose herself. It was a nice dress, if you were being vintage. It was definitely nothing that Clara would have chosen herself but all the other women in the bar had been giving her sideways glances all night so she guessed it was glamorous for its day. It was a vibrant crimson colour that looked almost black in the dim light of the single street lamp she was huddled under. The dress had a high collar and a cut out section at the top giving it a sweetheart neckline. It was certainly pretty but it did show off a lot of her cleavage. Pinching her waist to a tight hourglass shape was an extravagant scarlet bow that sucked in the bodice and pushed out the skirt that had been layered with at least five chiffon petticoats. It reminded her of something Audrey Hepburn would have worn. Thinking about it, she probably did.
A horrible clattering disturbed her moment's peace and made her jump, her shoulders twitching before she expertly recovered herself. Her S.H.I.E.L.D training made her curious and a little excited to find out the source. It was accompanied by a series of grunts and the familiar smacking of a fistfight. Clara never went over there with the intention of engaging but no one stands by helplessly when they see a poor, scrawny boy getting whaled on my a much bigger, much stronger man. She could easily take him out, she thought, and no one was around to see her. This dress, with it's tight, shoulder length sleeves and restrictive collar, was going to make throwing a punch difficult, but she would still be more than capable of successfully intervening. She cleared her throat loudly, and, as she had hoped, the assailant turned around.
"Go back inside, doll." He hissed pathetically and made Clara cringe. His words were intended to insult and they did. There would be no reasoning with this man so she didn't even try.
With expert precision she dropped to the floor and took out his legs with a sharp swipe of her own. Centering her balance she easily jumped back to her feet. By now, the man had just registered what was happening and was beginning to get back up. They were in a small alcove around the back of a large apartment building where they put the bins. The were round, silver cans, each one with a lid. The poor kid was clutching one like a shield. Clara snatched it from him and with all the force she could muster, whacked the assailant around the face with it, sending him spinning down onto the floor where he lay there unconscious.
"You okay kid?" She asked as the small boy stared up at her, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights.
"Thanks, miss." He said apologetically, "You shouldn't have had to do that...How did you do that?"
"Practice." She teased, smiling a little and the boy smiled back.
"You live around here? You going to get back okay?" She inquire as it was the least she could do to see he made it home in one piece.
"Now I should be the one walking you home, miss." He said politely. He bent down to dust himself off and smooth himself over. When he stood back up, Clara was able to get a good look at him. He was incredibly skinny but not as small or young as she had first thought. In fact, he was taller than her, only by half an inch but taller nonetheless and now she could have a good look at him, was around her own age, mid twenties.
"What's your name kid?" She said, suddenly uncertain if she should be calling him 'kid'.
