Walking along the streets of the UK is a certain Owen Carvour. He's dressed in casual attire, simply making his way through the town he was in, looking for the rendezvous point. A pub downtown. Quiet, and usually pretty empty. There, he's supposed to meet an American agent. MI6 had called A.S.S, asking for aide in gathering some important intel. The case impacts both America, and the UK. So, they quickly accepted. Owen hadn't exactly caught the agent's name, but he was confident that he could find him. They told him he was an experienced spy. One of the best out there. He's excited to meet him.
Owen could see the location from where he stood, getting a little nervous. He's got to be at his best. If this spy is as good as they say he is, he can't slack behind. He has to make a good first impression. Something stops Owen in his tracks. A few feet ahead of him, at the door to the pub, was a man. Leather jacket, high-waisted jeans, t-shirt tucked in, hair slicked back. A little much for just a normal outing. What caught Owen's attention, though, is that he seemed to be having trouble opening the door. It was a pull door. Owen knew this because of the handle, and the words 'PULL' on the door. He stood there, watching the man struggle as he tried to push the door open. Owen stood there for a good six minutes, watching as he tried and failed. Finally, he decided to step in, clearing his throat to get the man's attention. He turned to Owen, raising a brow.
"It's– ... It's pull door." Owen says, looking at him. The man blinked a few times, staring at him. He then turned his attention to the door, looking at the handle, and the sign. Owen watches him slowly pull on the handle, opening the door.
"... Of course it is." He mumbles, running a hand down his face. Owen chuckles softly, crossing his arms as he slowly approached. It's not often you run into a wild dumbass. He wants to make the most of the encounter.
"Is this a common occurrence with you?" Owen tilts his head as he asks, a small smile on his face. The man stutters a bit, scratching the back of his head. He looks embarrassed. And rightfully so. Owen can get why he's sheepish.
"I guess I've been known to make stupid mistakes, yeah." The man jokes at his own expense, letting out a small, nervous chuckle. Owen thinks for a moment, before holding a hand out to the man. He may as well. Not like the mission is now. He's just meeting up with the agent to make plans. Owen came early, anyway. He has time.
"Owen Carvour. You?" He asks, raising a brow. The man in front of him hesitantly shaking Owen's hand. Owen smiles a bit more at that.
"Curt Mega. It's a pleasure." Curt Mega. What a name. Owen nods at that, letting go of his hand, as he entered the pub. Curt followed after, looking around.
"You're obviously not from around here, are you, Curt Mega?" Owen glances at him for a moment, as he slowly walks forwards. He lets out a sigh at Owen's comment, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah, no. I'm here for work. I've only been here for about... twelve hours." Curt responds, getting a nod from Owen. A working man. Been a while since he's met one of those, the social butterfly he is.
"Of course. I'm supposed to be meeting someone, but... I'm quite early." Owen says, taking a seat at a table. Curt sits across from him, leaning back in the chair. He stares at Curt for a moment. Owen thinks he looks stupid. But in a kissable sort of way.
"That's funny. I'm also supposed to be meeting up with someone. In fact–" Curt seems to take a deep breath, before yelling out.
"The quiche is simply to die for!" He calls out, looking around. Nobody really reacted. That's when it hit Owen, though. That was the phrase he'd been told to listen out for. Word for word. The agent from America. ... Agent Curt Mega.
"... It could use a bit of salt, though." Owen responds, getting a shocked look from Curt. He sits up straight in his chair, fully facing Owen.
"... What are the odds?" Curt says, with a bit of a laugh. Owen is dumbfounded. The man he watched push on a pull door for six minutes straight is the agent he's been assigned? Any other time, he'd be mad. Something about Curt stops him from being annoyed, though. His stupidity is some-what charming. Owen lets out a sigh, and a small laugh.
"Well, it's good to know I'm working with a professional." Owen jokes, leaning forwards in his seat. Curt waves dissuasively, huffing a bit as the color scarlet makes his cheeks glow. This gets another small laugh from Owen, who rests his elbows on the table, his chin in his hands.
"I promise I'm better at my job that I am with doors. I don't think I'd be assigned overseas if I wasn't." He argues. Owen nods a bit. Yeah, he'll give him that. Owen can't help but feel like he needs a win. Something tells him he doesn't get those too often.
"You'd better be, Mega. ... Were you debriefed?" Owen asks, raising a brow. The mission was a bit of a long-term one, but it was fairly simple. They had to talk their way into a secret black market, and bust them. He wasn't sure if Curt knew that, though.
"Of course. Seems simple enough. It's a nice change of pace. I'm usually just sneaking around and stealing stuff, but with the government's permission. Being a spy is sort of just committing crimes, but the government lets you. If you think about it, I mean." Curt says, with full confidence in his words. Owen just listens, awestruck. Just when he thinks Curt get any stupider. It's astounding. Owen wants to know just how stupid this guy can get. Thankfully, they'll be working together for a while. He'll have plenty of time to experience the reach of Curt's idiocy.
"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose it is. It's for the greater good, though. Is saving lives a crime?" Owen looks at him as he asks. Curt seems to dwell on this for a moment. He has to stop himself from laughing at the man. Not because he's making fun of him. Owen thinks it's cute. His lack of braincells amuses him.
"I guess not. Huh. Didn't know I'd been paired up with a philosopher!" He smiles, clasping his hands together. Owen blushes a bit at that. His smile is bright, and warm. He'd never seen anything like it.
"Well, you'd better expect the unexpected, Mega." Owen hums, staring at him. The two talk for about three hours. At least, thats about when Owen stopped checking the clock. He liked listening to Curt talking. Given, every other thing he says is stupid, but, still. Curt seems to check the clock, flinching a bit when he sees the time.
"Oh, crap. I gotta meet up with one of your friends at MI6 to get some papers or something. ..." He seems to think for a moment, before grabbing a napkin. Owen watches as Curt fumbles through his pockets for a pen. He scribbles something on the napkin, and slides it over, a small smile on his face.
"My watch frequency." Curt says. Owen nods a bit, slowly taking it and putting it in his pocket.
"I'll phone you later." He says. Curt gives him a small thumbs up, before running towards the door. He goes to pull on it, before seeming to realize it was a push door from this side. Curt pushes the door open, and runs out. Owen simply stares at the door, a smile on his face. Agent Curt Mega. ...
That jacket looked stupid. Curt made it work, though. Because he, too, is stupid.
