At Midnight

5

...I'll choose you over and over again, without a pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat, I will always choose you...

I didn't go out of my way to interrogate her on why she insisted so persistently to work with me behind the counter on that night. I would have, if I wasn't busy ducking and dodging around Mara to fulfill my own orders correctly.  

In between orders, when I got to take a breather, I noticed a folded piece of paper sticking from her back pocket. It was the drawing from earlier. Through the thick paper, I wasn't able to find any distinctive features to even guess at the full photo. 

Mara grabbed a fist full of my shirt before I could pass by her. One handed, she counted change, then dropped it into the teenager's opened palm. She closed the register with her hip and turned to face me. She stared. 

"Can I help you?" I asked curiously. 

"Clifford," she drawled. 

"That is my name."

"What would you do if, theoretically, you were fired?"

"Find another job," I said obviously.

"Wonderful! That's wonderful, because if we're going to do this, we may get fired."

I didn't answer her, at first, due to three customers stepping to the counter. I shot her a confused look before I slid past her and asked how I could assist them.

Under her breath, she sighed, "Right... They will be an obstacle, too."

"What are you talking about?" I asked quietly.

"How many Marvel movies are there?"

"A lot."

Mara waited to ask the next question as I tapped in the orders for each customers. She took care of the drinks. I scooped popcorn into a bag. When we were standing at the register, alone, I stared pointedly at her, wondering what she was on about. 

"How many movies exist that are important to the story line of this movie?"

I scrunched my nose. "Twelve, maybe. Maybe a few shows, too."

"With how many relevant seasons?"

"Mara, why are you asking all this?"

In response, Mara turned my chin to the corridor of theater on our left. Ten people, all dressed in varying degrees of Marvel clothing, sat together, speaking animatedly for the movie they were awaiting to see. A few of the children were dressed in costumes of their favorite characters.

"Look at them, Clifford. They love these movies. They have such devotion and dedication to what happens to those characters. I wish to, one day, be part of a project with fans like that, fans that love every bit of the characters, especially their costumes."

"What does that have to do with me, though?" I asked hopelessly. 

"I want to witness how someone's work can make devoted fans, like them, care and react. I want to see how those costumes work in action!" she said excitedly.

"Still missing the point."

Mara groaned. "Clifford Jannick, what's the most exciting thing you've done in your life?"

"One time I went to a comic convention dressed as Captain America, and a girl dressed as Peggy Carter came up and kissed me."

"Huh," said Mara, nodding impressively. "Wow. Well, uh, I haven't done anything memorable in my school years. Football games, art nights, sure, but I'll forget all that in fifteen years."

Catching on, I said, "You want to do something memorable."

"I do. And I need it to include you."

Despite my melting heart, I managed to say, "What do you have in mind?" without a stutter.

"I want you to fill me in on everything that's ever happened in a Marvel movie, or show, that's relevant to this one."

"The entire MCU?" I breathed. "That could take--"

"Days? Months? You don't have days or months," she interrupted. 

I bit my lip. "How long do I have?"

"Two hours," she said.

Because I was such a good boy, and would never have dreamed of doing what she proposed, my mind hadn't connected the dots. I stared at her, utterly confused. 

Mara took my chin and directed it to theater one, which clearly read:

Captain America: Civil War
12:01

"Clifford Jannick," she told me, "I'm taking you to see that movie at midnight."