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America got the mission text the day before, outlining what she and her partner would be responsible for, along with phone attachments that included schedules, hotel blueprints, and potential hot spots for activity. She was supposed to pack for two days, but get plenty of rest beforehand in case nerdy monsters got frisky or something. Mark even supplied a handy list of convention tips that included useful information like stay hydrated and don't worry about showers, let your manly grime be your shield and just use AXE to lure babes to you. Also included was a list of signatures, figures, and art of something called "OCs."

At the portal, America waited for her partner with a duffel bag and a small box in the other. Staring down at the contents in consternation, she asked out loud to no one in particular, "Do I have to be an elf?"

This 2015 CONduit mission was looking weirder and weirder.

Brightening, America gave him an answering smile, "Looks like we're Team Moon Moon." After holding her hand up for a high five, the girl switched directly into a mission mindset. Where he might used to friendly banter and casual shooting of the s**t, America on a mission was down to business and downright bossy if she had rank.

"Right, list out what you've brought. Start with any runics and runestones you've brought and work your way down."

Clapping the trainee on the shoulder, she gave a warm approval of the knife, "So many trainees running around without one, you wouldn't believe." With a sigh, America gave a small shake of her head, "If it were up to me, I'd make it mandatory afore they went on even a single mission."

The girl reached into her bag and pulled out several runestones, their rune glowing brightly, and handed them over to him. "If your phone battery dies, these can get it charged up. They can also recharge your runic gear over night if you use it one day and need it the next. Specially important for missions that'll go a few days but," voice going somber, "sometimes even a day trip of a mission can end up taking days, even weeks if you're unlucky."

Going over the rest, she didn't seem too disappointed either. In turn she went over her own supplies: runic bandages and knife, along with an explanation of her charges that consisted of a heal and a hit; more runestones; her headset and scanner; a towel; regular pocket knife; a small sewing kit; tiny spray bottle full of a citrusy scent; zip ties; rope; small tool kit; a handkerchief; money; energy bars; water.

Not so different from his own, maybe a peek into her more survivalist habits, but considering he knew Kostya, infinitely less impressive than the Russian's.

With a final nod, to him and then the hunters manning the portals, she slipped on her elf ears, adjusted her boobs, and gave Dawson the all ready before stepping through and into the stall of a ladies restroom. When Dawson followed, he'd find her doing the tiny pull up necessary to peek over the stall's door and scan the area.

"We're clear."

Shooting him a grin, America nodded, "Yeah, may as well suit up." She let herself out of the stall to allow him some privacy and began to dig through her bag, pulling out the outfit she'd been given. Putting it on, she gazed in dissatisfaction. Not nearly titsy enough.

"I think I'm just gonna stick with the ears," she commented and began to change back into her street clothes.

"We should get this nerdy shopping list covered first, I don't even know what half these things mean. What's a gundam?"

Seeing Dawson all dwarfed up, America stopped and then gave into her own costume rather than change out of it. They were now thematic goddamnit. And it wasn't as though she was opposed to costumes...

Hands on hips she considered and then handed the list to Dawson, admitting wryly, "I'll leave you to speak the language of your people." Checking outside, she gave him the all clear, and moments later the two were all sorts of swagger as they approached the venue and it hoards of energetic, colorful, and passionate nerds.

In under five minutes, America found herself being questioned on supporting Mary Sues and bastardization of canon for the sake of throwing in a romantic interest.

It was definitely going to be A Day.

In memoriam

America had no idea who Leonard Nimoy was and why an entire auditorium was sobbing over him. Casting a helpless look at Dawson, she silently asked for an explanation while delivering awkward there there's to the stranger tearfully leaning against her shoulder.

ice cold

Next to her, he gleefully recorded and swayed to the beat. By the time they returned to Deus, Dawson was going to know all the words to the song.

God help those who read Twitter.

hotel room service

He had ordered a burger in spite of himself (he wasn't nearly as bold about spending their budget as she was), though he immediately felt guilty when he remembered America didn't do meat. Dawson quietly ate it as fast as he could and listened as she debriefed him. "I ain' a nerd!" he snorted, feigning offense. "Not smart enough fer that. I like movies is all, s**t."

He should have been keeping better attention—blendy, police radio, fuzz—but it was hard to. His foot kept wiggling and his mind kept wandering, reliving the experiences at the con: how people had complimented him on his costume or critiqued him for the shirt, how he had to fend off a few people about America's cosplay because look nobody should say no to more kickass lady elves ya idjits, the few souvenirs he had managed to score which were now tucked away in a plastic bag, the nervousness pervading it all from social anxiety and mission performance anxiety and just anxiety.

Rather than ask about the mission parameters for tomorrow, which he knew were Important, instead Dawson blurted out, "Mind if I ask why you a vegetarian?" because it had been bothering him a little too long not to know.