Chapter Text
"This place," Mack said, leaning toward Fitz as they filed into a nondescript-looking meeting room in the middle of the convention center, "it's not at all what I'd pictured."
"What did you think it would be, then?" Fitz said, pulling Mack to the side to keep a passing Gandalf cosplayer’s staff from connecting with his forehead.
The Gandalf whirled around, looking stricken once he took in the sheer size of the man behind him. "Dude, sorry. These props are new for me this year and I keep forgetting how long this thing is." His beard was askew and the makeup ‘wrinkles’ on his face were beginning to run, giving his wide, terrified eyes a sympathetic framing as he struggled to apologize.
Mack’s wide, easygoing smile was already in place before the explanation came. "No harm done," he told him, and cosplayer-Gandalf sighed with obvious relief. "Oh, wait a minute. We don’t have a picture with a Gandalf yet. Would you mind taking one with us?"
The kid grinned and straightened his beard a little, then posed, leaning heavily on his staff as Mack switched to the forward-facing camera on his phone and held it in front of them. Fitz poked his head into the corner of the shot and tried to make his tired smile look genuine until the shot was taken.
"When did we start taking selfies with the con-goers?" Fitz asked, after the Gandalf was out of earshot.
"You have a tiny corner of a huge booth this weekend, and there’s a lot of competition here. If some of these people recognize us when they’re in the vendor hall tomorrow, maybe it’ll be easier for you to stop them for a demo," Mack explained, and Fitz wondered how he’d never noticed how much of a criminal mastermind his friend was.
"That’s genius," Fitz told him, clapping him on the back. "Bloody conventions...hours of sitting behind a rickety table with one of those horrible plastic sheets stretched over it, trying to suss out how to look approachable without being creepy. If we look familiar, maybe they’ll stop by without the usual song and dance to get them to sit down. I knew there was a reason I wanted to bring you to this thing."
"Hey, you got my foot in the door with Coulson last year, and now my art is on five of QRG's titles. I owe you, Fitz."
"This is the first time a game of mine has an art style that isn't just what I wanted, but better than what I'd pictured. I'd say we both win."
"We still have ten minutes until this thing’s supposed to start. Should we try to get a few more pictures?" Mack looked around, frowning a little. "Do you know who any of the other cosplayers are supposed to be?"
"All of them," Fitz admitted, grinning sheepishly. "This isn't my first rodeo."
Mack laughed. "That expression sounds strange when I hear it in your accent."
"Come on, there's a group over there cosplaying Final Fantasy characters. They seem like the sort of people who may be interested in space monkeys, don't you think?"
Jemma straightened her skirt again, realizing it was a nervous tic, but she didn't seem to be able to stop herself. Daisy was vibrating with energy in the chair next to her, turning left and right and craning her neck to look at the people trickling into the room.
"This place is awesome," Daisy squeaked, then covered her mouth as pure delight seemed to wash over her. "Oh my gosh, that guy over there is dressed up as the Prince from Katamari Damacy."
Jemma turned, smiling a bit in spite of the undercurrent of nervousness she was feeling as she took in the precise details of the costume. "He's included the antenna on top of the headpiece. Some cosplayers might have overlooked that."
Daisy smacked her on the arm. "How could you have never brought me to one of these things before? This is amazing."
Jemma rubbed her arm. "Possibly because I didn't want to endure your physical attacks each time you saw an impressive costume? Also, I have invited you before, but you always made excuses not to come."
"You didn't tell me what it was like. When you told me there wasn't a lot of video gaming at these things, I thought it was, like, a bunch of people playing chess and stuff."
Jemma regarded Daisy with a look of disbelief. "You had to know there were more games here than the classics. You've listened to me prattle on about my design quandaries before we took this last project on together. It must have been clear I wasn't the only person putting out new board games."
"I just...I didn't know there would be so many different things here. And the people! They're into everything. Television shows, movies, and I swear, I've seen people dressed as characters from video games even I barely remember, and I've played pretty much every title ever released." Daisy took Jemma's hand, looking around the room with wide, excited eyes. "These are my people," she whispered, and Jemma laughed.
"Perhaps I won't have to beg you to come with me to the next one?" Jemma asked, laughing again when Daisy immediately began to nod her head. "Even if I can't lure you with the possibility of receiving an award?"
"Do you think we'll win?"
Jemma pursed her lips, not wanting to speculate. She'd been trying to tell herself the real honor was in being nominated at all, along with the sales bump that had come after her game had appeared on the list. If she was being honest, however, she had to admit she was hoping the weeks of meticulous testing and tuning of the game system she'd designed would garner her one of the trophies lining the table at the front of the room.
"I think you have a much better chance than I do," Jemma said, thinking of the heavy-hitters she was up against in the Family Board Game category. Daisy's work on the companion app for her game was, in Jemma's opinion, far and away the finest entry in the Accessory or Special Feature category.
"Ugh, that would be so not fair. You did all the real work. All I did was a couple weekends of coding, and you gave me most of the specs. Any halfway decent app slinger could have done the same work I turned out."
"Not true," Jemma said, upset that Daisy would give herself so little credit. "You made all the streamlining suggestions, and I could never have designed the user interface you came up with. You should be proud of what you've done."
"Thanks," Daisy said, a faint touch of pink coloring her cheeks. "Anyway, do you recognize anyone? See any of the competition?"
Jemma looked down at the program in her hands, scanning the list of nominated designers and artists for anyone she knew. Most of the names were familiar, but there was no one she would know on sight.
"I don't think I've met any of the other nominees before. I'm not sure how many of them will even be here tonight. Sometimes these awards ceremonies are sparsely attended."
"You mean to tell me there are game designers who have something better to do than be in Ohio on a random weekend in the middle of the summer?" Daisy's amusement peeked through the sarcasm on the surface, and Jemma laughed.
"It may not seem like the flashiest location, but this weekend is a great time to network. Most of us are contractors, after all, always trying to sell a new design to one of the big publishers, or at least secure a little consulting work. We're scattered all over the world, so we have to make the best of these opportunities when they arise." Jemma kept scanning the room, smiling as her eyes fell on a perfect example of what she'd been telling Daisy. "Ah, speak of the devil. This is what I was talking about. Over there, the man in the impeccably tailored suit? He's the head of QRG."
"QRG, like, the publishers of the game you're nominated for?" Daisy asked, as Jemma caught Coulson's eye and waved to him.
"Yes, and you should make a point to speak with him this evening, if you can. I wasn't embellishing things when I told you how impressed he was with your coding and interface design skills." Coulson began to cross the room towards them as Jemma leaned closer to Daisy to keep their discussion private. "You could find yourself being offered a contract or two if we give him an opportunity to reflect on how your work could enhance a few of his upcoming titles."
"Dude, I could use the work. The podcast player app I released this month is tanking. Hard," Daisy admitted, poking Jemma in the side as Phil Coulson broke away from yet another conversation he'd been pulled into to move toward them. "He's coming! What do I say? Do I introduce myself? Are you going to wingman me or something?"
"I'll take care of it. I'll give you the perfect opening, all right?" Jemma's smile widened as Coulson reached them.
"Jemma Simmons, glad you could make it. I have my fingers crossed for you," Coulson said, clasping Jemma's hand briefly in both of his.
"I'm sure you say the same to all the nominees," Jemma replied.
"Just the ones I've published," he said, and Jemma noticed him glancing at Daisy.
"Speaking of nominees under the QRG umbrella, this is Daisy Johnson. I'm sure one of those trophies already has her name engraved on it," Jemma said, stepping to the side to allow Daisy to shake Coulson's hand as well.
"Ms. Johnson, we finally meet in person. That was great work you did on the app for Jemma's game. My marketing director told me sales for the physical game saw a hell of a second spike once we went live with the companion app."
"I was lucky to have such great material to work with," Daisy said, putting her hand on Jemma's shoulder. "This was her baby. I'm happy to have the skills to help support it."
Coulson slipped a business card out of an interior jacket pocket, then pressed it into Daisy's hands. "We can do more business with a few titles I have coming up, if you're interested."
"I may have room in my schedule to take on a new project or two," Daisy said, seeming interested without also seeming desperate, and Jemma envied her ability to play it cool so effectively.
"Excellent," Coulson said, then turned to Jemma. "As for you, I have a specific proposal in mind, and I'd love to find a time to talk it over sometime this weekend. Are you free after the vendor hall closes tomorrow?"
"For you, of course I can be," Jemma said, intrigued at the prospect of starting another game. She'd been toying with new ideas for currency generation mechanics and she was dying to try them out in something other than sets of generic test cases.
"I have a conference room at my hotel booked tomorrow evening at eight o'clock."
Jemma nodded. "It's a date, Mr. Coulson," she said, correcting herself at his comically exasperated look. "Phil. I know. You've asked me a million times to call you Phil."
"Tomorrow then. I'll text you the details. And good luck this evening, both of you." Coulson gave them a last nod, then crossed the room, moving with purpose toward two men taking selfies with a group of cosplayers.
"Interesting," Jemma said, watching as Coulson pulled the shorter of the two men aside. "I wonder who they could be?"
"You want me to find out?" Daisy asked, leaning closer to Jemma and speaking in a stage whisper. "I can be really sneaky. I could go eavesdrop and they'd never notice me."
"No, thank you, James Bond. I'm sure if I need to know who they are, I'll find out. If I don't...well, it would hardly matter then, would it?"
Shifting in her chair, Jemma watched as Daisy yet again signaled her dismay at being waylaid after the ceremony. The winners had been asked to stay behind and pose for promotional photos by the convention staff, a process the photographer had promised would take "just a few moments". A half hour later, the young man was still adjusting his lighting rig and changing lenses as he put different combinations of people together.
Daisy had been so surprised to win, still looking around the room at the other nominees when her name was called, and Jemma'd had to prod her to get up and accept her trophy. Though Jemma had reminded her friend several times that she wasn't expecting to win the Family Game category, Daisy had been upset when another game won, grumbling under her breath when the winner wasn't even in attendance. While Jemma appreciated her support and loyalty, she didn't want it to come at the expense of Daisy celebrating her own win.
Looking up at her friend smiling for yet another group photo, she decided they should get away from the convention area after Daisy was done, go out somewhere fun. She hoped a few drinks and some terrible karaoke would show Daisy that she wasn't upset, and was in fact thrilled that Daisy had been recognized. There was a cute little pub she'd found the previous year, and she was trying to remember if it was near the west or north entrance to the convention hall when she realized the man sitting a few seats away seemed to be speaking to her. He was looking at her, his eyebrows raised, as though he'd asked her a question and was waiting for a response.
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I was in a bit of a convention haze. I didn't quite catch what you were saying."
"It's all right, I know just what you mean," he replied, and she was a bit shocked to hear his somewhat thick Scottish brogue. They certainly weren't the only two people at the convention from outside the United States, but she'd grown so accustomed to the hard Rs and flat vowels of typical American speech that it was always a pleasant surprise to hear an accent from closer to home. "I was trying to ask," he began, looking down at the program in his hands and tracing a line with his finger, "you're Jemma Simmons, aren't you?"
Jemma barely had the time to nod, halfway through a breath to respond to him, when he began to speak again.
"I'm sorry you didn't...er...I mean, it's a shame that..." he stammered, gesturing helplessly with the program he held in his lap.
"That my game didn't win?" she asked, wondering why he would have started this conversation with her when he seemed so uncomfortable. "Thank you, but I'm fine. I wasn't expecting to win."
He nodded, looking as though he had something else he wanted to say, but when he didn't continue, she looked forward again, her eyes darting around as she tried to think of some way to make the situation less uncomfortable.
"Are you waiting for someone?" she asked, deciding after a moment's thought that anything would be better than the somewhat painful silence they'd been stuck in together.
"My friend Mack," he said, gesturing to a tall, broad man who was being posed by the convention photographer. "He won for—"
"Art Design," Jemma finished, then winced a little as she cut him off. It was a terrible habit of hers, finishing other people's sentences. Daisy had taken to smirking good-naturedly at her whenever she did it, but Jemma still couldn't seem to break herself of it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted you."
"No, that's all right," he told her, seeming relieved, if anything, that they'd found something to talk about. The relief disappeared when they fell into another lull, but his expression brightened just before he started to speak again. "So...you're waiting as well?" he asked, looking at his program again. "For Daisy Johnson? She wrote the companion app for your game, didn't she?"
"Yes," she said, beaming toward the stage as Daisy leaned into the group of award winners for yet another photograph. "I don't know if you've had a chance to see her work, but that win was well-deserved."
"I've used it, actually, the app," he said, the words coming faster, his voice raising in volume as he got more excited. "I've played your game and tried the app. It's excellent, the way they work together, but even more amazing how well the game works with or without it. I thought it was—" He cut himself off abruptly, looking away. "Sorry, perhaps I was getting a little carried away. It's just...the idea of a companion app. I think it's great. It's something I might want to do in the future, and..." he stammered as he looked down again, but this time, at the floor.
She wasn't sure how she should respond. He'd complimented her game, but he'd gone on to stop just short of taking it back and she wasn't sure if she should thank him or not. She decided to gloss over it, as he'd seemed embarrassed once he'd caught himself praising her work, and use the time to do a little networking for Daisy instead.
"If you're looking for app development, I don't think you could do better than Daisy. In fact, you should speak to her soon. The quality of her app already speaks for itself, and now that it's won an award, I'm sure her skills will be in demand."
"It just occurred to me that I haven't even introduced myself," he said, and when their eyes met again, she felt as though she was noticing him for the first time. "I'm Fitz. Well, Leo Fitz, but everyone just calls me Fitz. I designed Space Monkey Rescue." He held out his hand, and Jemma cautiously shook it.
"Jemma Sim—" she said, cutting off her introduction when she remembered he already knew who she was. "Well, it looks like the trophy eluded both of us this year. I've played your game, by the way," she offered. "It's a lot of fun. You certainly deserved the nomination."
"Thanks," he said, and he seemed to be struggling a bit again to find something to say. "You deserved yours as well. Your design work is meticulous. I expect the quality had to be that high for an educational tabletop game to be nominated in this category."
Jemma took a deep breath and counted to five before saying anything, as she was beyond tired of hearing that particular description of her work. "While I won't deny that the player may learn a fact or two about world geography while they play my game, the central goal is to engage and challenge each player's strategic skills."
"And have fun?" he suggested, and it seemed paradoxical how much more at ease he seemed now that they were dipping into territory that felt a little more contentious.
"I happen to find a solid strategic test quite fun to engage in," she said, raising her eyebrow at Fitz, daring him to contradict her.
"Oh, I agree," he insisted. "I started out with chess, myself. I wouldn't be surprised if you told me you had, as well, given how analytical your work is. Thinking five, ten, fifteen moves ahead. Maneuvering, baiting your opponent into making a mistake, misdirections. I just get the feeling..." he said, pausing as thought through what he was about to say, "...the smartest person at the table playing one of your games could probably play the entire thing without being surprised even once."
She should probably be more insulted than she actually felt, but it had been a long time since she'd spoken to anyone who could engage her in a real conversation about the core fundamentals of game design theory.
"Is that not the point of a game? At its core, it's a contest. Should we be creating games where the most skilled player, the player who plays the cleanest, most error-free game, isn't particularly likely to win? Because of...what? Random elements included in the name of fun, but serving mostly to subvert the core, inherent challenge of gaming, instead replacing it with haphazard aimlessness?"
He blinked at her, looking surprised, but not particularly angry. "I suppose you're saying my games may as well be a random number generator, for all the skill they require to win?"
She gasped a little, surprised by his frankness again. "I wouldn't dream of—"
"Go ahead, Simmons. I can take a little constructive criticism," he said, cutting her off, the sparkle in his icy blue eyes practically begging her to intensify their debate.
She paused, feeling strangely off-balance about the way he'd begun to refer to her by her last name. From anyone else, it would have felt like a distancing tactic. From him, it felt just the opposite, almost uncomfortably familiar.
"I don't think you could deny there's an element of randomness in your work, Mr. Fitz."
"Just 'Fitz', please."
"Well...Fitz," she began, the name feeling strange on her lips, "your reliance on pure chance as part of the fundamental structure of your games may lead to more excitement and tension in certain cases, it also leads to an apathy on the part of a player. If their actions aren't the greatest determining factor in their success or failure, why should they engage with the game at all? I'm not against chance being factored in, of course, but carefully. For example, used in cases where the player can assess the risk of the randomness affecting them, and plan for contingencies."
"I bet you've never left your house without an umbrella when there's a chance of rain in the forecast," he said, leaning back in his chair and looking at her thoughtfully.
"I don't," she said, stammering a little as she tried to think of some sort of witty comeback, so she took a moment to collect her thoughts. "I don't know how proud I should be of getting rained on when a little planning would have kept me dry."
He chuckled a little. "We see things fairly differently, I suppose."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daisy moving toward her, now free of the demands of the photographer. She stood up, holding her hand out for Fitz to shake as she began to plot a quick getaway from this vaguely unsettling exchange. "It was lovely to meet you, Fitz. Perhaps we'll run into each other on the convention circuit?"
He took her hand, holding it more than shaking it, and gazed up at her. "Perhaps we will. I'd be happy to discuss more design theory with you another time."
She nodded, gathering her things and hurrying over to Daisy, who seemed troublingly curious about the man Jemma had been talking to.
"Who's—" Daisy began, but Jemma cut her off.
"Another designer," Jemma answered, hoping to leave it at that. "He was waiting for the winner in the Art Design category. But enough about that," she said, rapidly changing the subject. "I know the best place near here to get a drink and listen to some horrible karaoke. You and your statue are coming with me."
They headed out, Jemma pretending to have full confidence in her memory of how to get to the pub as she tried to put Fitz out of her mind. It sounded like his design process was entirely different from her own. If his criticisms seemed to hit a little too close to home, it was probably because she was already feeling a bit of a sting after not winning the award.