Henry "Hank" McCoy

 The tuna fish sandwich was particularly good today, Hank thought as he chewed. Part of his mind was on Cerebro and its calibrations while another was working on the electrical systems of the Blackbird and yet another was recoding the programing of the Image Inducer to see if the static drift could be reduced. Hank's mind usually worked this way; fracturing and working on different things at the same time. It was more efficient and kept him from getting bored.

It also kept him away from real world conversations, so it was something of a shock to him as he realized some of the agents at the table next to him were talking about Raven.

"I'd love to take her down to the town for a drink some time," one of them said and Hank felt a flush of pride since he had kissed the woman they were fantasying about.

"You know what I'd love to see," another said leaning in to his buddies and lowering his voice. Hank had to focus to listen but he caught the rest, "Her in a Playboy spread."

Shocked, Hank froze.

"Or better yet, her boots around my shoulders if you know what I mean."

The blood rushing in Hank's ears drowned out anything further and he wasn't quite sure when he stood and turned to face them.

"You should talk about her as a person. She deserves respect, not...not..." Words failed him in his nervousness and outrage; a chill fear in the pit of his stomach warred with the hot anger in his heart.

"Oh give it a rest, Poindexter. Like you have any idea what we're talking about."

"I know very well what you are talking about and it is wrong. How would you like someone talking about your mother or sister that way?"

The table burst into laughter. Frustrated, Hank slammed his food tray onto the table. "She deserves respect!" He said through clenched teeth.

The biggest of the men dropped his sandwich and glared at Hank. The old fear of the bully seized Hank but he didn't look away. "I think you need to just run off to your little lab and leave the big boys to themselves," the man said with so much force Hank actually took a step or two back. "That's right, just walk away."

Hank took another step back and half turned. The other men laughed and turned to their food but Hank wasn't done. He turned back, lifted a foot and gave the load bearing brace of the table a solid kick like he'd seen the folks at Milliways do. Then he turned away as the laughter turned to yells of panic as the table folded in on itself.
Half an hour later and Mr. Black walked into Hank's lab shaking his head. "What were you thinking? That's three agents out of commision for no good reason."

Hank stood frozen at his mentor's displeasure. He knew it had been coming but it was still hard to take.

"Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I had a good reason," Hank murmured.

Mr. Black took a deep breath and a seat. "Come on Hank, relax. Just tell me what happened and we'll sort it out."

Hank looked up then, cautiously, and replied, "They were saying mean things about our guest, Raven. It wasn't right."

"OK, I agree it wasn't right but you can't let your infatuation cloud your thinking. They were just words, right?"

"I didn't let my infatuation...," Hank says, trailing off and blushing at admitting in the infatuation. "Words can be harmful, as part of an agency that deals in hidden truths, I would think you knew that. The table didn't have enough weight or force to it to do much more than bruise, maybe sprain a joint if they were unlucky."

Mr. Black studied Hank in surprise, a half smile pulling his lips before he frowned again. "That may be but you still attacked superior agents. We can't allow that in the C.I.A. We're part of one team here. You are confined to quarters and your lab for the next few days. You are not to go to the cafeteria. I will see to it that food is brought to you. Don't violate this or I'll have to do something more."

"Okay, I promise."

Mr. Black stood to leave but turned at the door. "And Hank? Make sure she knows how you feel. You're a great guy who could make any woman happy."

Stunned, Hank didn't get a chance to reply before the door closed.