The knock comes on the door. "Sammy?"

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Talk about timing. Maybe it was an unconscious hint on her part that she was always in at state of undress when he knocked on her door.

She grabbed a towel to wrap around her and opened the door. Peering around it, she smiled brightly and promptly began issuing orders. "Come in, sit down, don't freak."

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"Don't freak...?" he asks, a little confused, but he starts to come in... and then he sees her wrapped in the towel and freezes momentarily.

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"Don't freak," Sammy repeated. She dragged him in and closed the door behind him. "Breathe. I'm running late, I'm sorry, and if it were you in the towel I'd be volunteering for soap duty." She grinned and nudged him toward a seat. "Honest, just a couple a minutes and I'll be out."

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After a moment of staring, he abruptly looks towards the ceiling. "Um... okay. I'll... have a seat." He almost tries to look her in the face, then decides he can't really trust himself with that, and he looks back to the ceiling even as she nudges him towards a seat.

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Yeah, her ceiling was so interesting. She was going to develop an inferiority complex any second now.

"There's a file on my desk that I pulled for you to read. New job title, new security clearance. Take a look while I'm getting ready."

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"Okay," he says, still looking at the ceiling. The ceiling is so much better. It means that he won't be tempted to look... um... elsewhere. Anywhere. Respecting her space is a good thing.

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A short time later, they're led to their table at the restaurant. Qamar pulls out Sammy's chair to help her get seated.

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Dumont Restaurant had good reviews, and Sammy liked to try new places. Raised on take out, dine out, and SHIELD cafeteria food, she secretly enjoyed the ones that advertised home cooking.

She settled into her chair, (glanced up at the ceiling to check if there was anything more interesting to see) and turned a bright smile on Qamar. "I like it."

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Qamar takes a seat, looking briefly at the spot on the ceiling, a little confused by her glance, then smiles at her. "It's nice," he agrees, opening the menu and glancing it over. He decides quickly, and sets the menu aside so there's less between him and his date.

"So... Alice took me to coffee the other day. She seems like she'll be a good teammate."

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"She's been my best friend since we were in diapers. I asked her to get know you." She made her selection from the menu and put it aside. "I'm a firm believer that the important people in my life should know each other. I'm lucky enough to work with both of you this time."

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He nods. "I hope I made a good impression," he tells her. "I know I can be... awkward."

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"She didn't think you awkward. She said you were cute and funny and good for me." There had also been some talk about new lingerie to celebrate, but Sammy kept that to herself.

"Alice is a good agent. I suspect Dad and Dum Dum have been working on her to take over Mom's spot when they all finally retire."

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He laughs. "Yes. Yes, your father has been a barrier. But I'm used to protective fathers. I went on a couple dates when I was in high school when the father came along and made sure we couldn't even hold hands."

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"That's pretty intense." She spent a moment imaging her father behaving like that and found it wasn't much of a stretch. If Mom had let him off his leash, he could have been worse.

"Dad never did that, but the few dates I had before...time became an issue, Dad sent an agent for security. Afterward, my security was doubled and I didn't date. I'm glad he likes you or he and I would be butting heads a lot."

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"You're glad he likes me?" Qamar says, raising an eyebrow. "I was worried for a time that I'd wake up in my room surrounded by SHIELD agents to be interrogated by Dick Cheney!"

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She grinned at the mental image. "Don't worry, Cheney doesn't have clearance for the helicarrier. How do you like living on a flying base?"

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"It's... different," he admits. "But in a lot of ways, the engine's sort of white noise. Ironically, it's sort of quieter than living in the city." He looks at her. "But I imagine you're used to it."

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"If my parents hadn't taken me to work a lot while I was growing up, I wouldn't have seen much of them. That took me into my fair share secured and unusual places." She leaned on an elbow. "Dad would walk me around the flight deck and tell me that one day I would be in the top seat so I had to learn how to respect and treat each agent so they in turn could take care of the world." She looked back at him. "Brainwashed at an early age, right?"

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Dinner was delicious. The coffee ceremony at the Ethiopian restaurant following dinner was almost up to Qamar's standards. He had a great time dancing with her as well, showing off some of his formal dance training he'd had in his teen years.

And now they're walking, hand-in-hand, through Central Park. The evening is brisk, but not so cold as to be uncomfortable, as they walk along the edge of the water.

"Thanks," he tells her, "for such a wonderful evening."

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"I should thank you for inviting me, and you're right, the coffee was almost thick enough to chew." She leaned her head against his shoulder as they strolled along. "I should have expect it from the way you move, but I admit I was surprised at how well you dance."

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"My father had me take lessons for six years. I know how to salsa, swing, ballroom dance... part of my exposure to the Western world," he admits. "You're not so bad yourself."

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"It was blackmail," she said with a laugh. "I wasn't allowed to take martial arts with Dad unless I took dance lessons at the same time. Mom swore I would be glad for it later because it would improve my technique."

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"It's helpful, isn't it?" he asks, amused that he'd found the same to be true. "I mean, all my combat skills just sort of... showed up initially, and I've been training them since. But the dance classes have actually helped."

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"It was helpful for balance and strength training. I surprised Dad enough that he put me in some of the academy classes for more training. Mom's been pushing to have ballet classes taught at the academy for years."

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