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[hasthehighground]

Why is Clint Barton in the rafters, when he's by all rights way too old and (by some accounts) dignified to climb up there?

Well. He was drinking his morning coffee when some thing touched the back of his foot with a long tendril, and all he saw was its weird misshapen form skittering away.





It was weird, okay? Anyway. He's sitting on a rafter, watching the room below, with a mug of coffee in his hands and a jar of peanuts next to him.

[tiny tag: creepy doll
ooc: No new threads, unless we've talked about it :)! I'll be around this weekend, but I am at this point Friday asleep.]

Comments

[katyafeline]

There's something odd going on in the barroom.

Well, that's a given, but if anything, it's getting odder. For example... there's that ex-care-bear down there, the one stalking various waitrats? That one is being annoying, according to one Other. It's escaped being killed three times now.

A paw the size of a dinner plate slaps the stuffed critter upside the head, stretching from underneath the nearest table. The toy goes flying, fluffy stuffing floating in its wake, spinning beneath another table.

A few seconds later, there's the thump of something heavy landing in the rafters.

[hasthehighground]

...

"Hi," Clint says after a long moment, as neutrally as possible. "Good hit."

[katyafeline]

Ever see a tiger startle?

Yeeeah.

Guess which Other didn't check to see if there was anyone up here? The toy is dropped in favor of clinging to the nearest rafter with all claws to avoid going toppling off.

[hasthehighground]

Clint's breath catches, and he puts his hands out reflexively as if to steady the tiger, though he doesn't actually touch it because a) tiger, and b) tiger.

After the initial movement, though, he just remains carefully still. He doesn't retract his hands, just... waits.

[katyafeline]

She clambers back to her perch, and huffs at him irritably. Where did he come from, anyway? Sneaky humans.

[cook_the_rude]

A comparatively new patron is looking up at Clint Barton in passing, eyeing both the peanuts and the coffee.

[hasthehighground]

When Clint notices (pretty quickly), he waves. He's not entirely sure what the guy's looking at, but sitting in a rafter tends to draw some attention.


[ooc: SHRIEKING. I just started watching Hannibal yesterday and I've seen seven or eight episodes now. Ahahaha.]

[cook_the_rude]

"Peanuts: food or weapons?" the man says, still looking up.

[hasthehighground]

"Mostly food, but they're versatile."

Though if a doll shows up on his rafter, he's probably just going to stab it. Knives are handy that way.

[thebesteverseen]

Steve's yet to decide what to make of this place. Even for the amount of time he's known Milliways was here. Case in point today?

There's a person in the rafters again. This time one who is not so young he's writing it off as some toss up of youthful exuberance against the rules and the furthest you could get from being social or near a parent or law governing body. But while it may have started there, something about the hold of his shoulders and the way he's watching the room keeps bringing Steve back.

Leaving him drinking his Longboard, speculating on that each time a glance through the perimeter of the room brings him back.

[hasthehighground]

The first time Clint becomes aware of being noticed, he looks to Steve (after he's looked away), and writes it off as the natural side-effect of sitting in a weird place.

A few times later, he catches Steve mid-glance, and tilts him a wave with his free hand.

[thebesteverseen]

Steve tips his head.


A half nod that is far more forehead and chin than it is head, neck and shoulders.

It's entirely more military than civilian; and this time he doesn't actually look away elsewhere.

[hasthehighground]

Clint smiles, slightly. He thought so, but verification's always nice.

He projects just loud enough to be heard: "Milliways has an infestation of toys that're creeping around. Pretty sure it's magic."

He wishes someone had warned him.

[realmrsreynolds]

Why does everyone always sit in the rafters? There are chairs for a reason!

"Enjoyin' yourself up there young man?" says the white-haired lady at the bar.

[ooc: i'm slow too today. feel better!]

[hasthehighground]

Clint's head jerks in her direction, then he smiles. "Just avoiding the weird... toys, ma'am."

[realmrsreynolds]

"You're not goin' to be launching anything from up there, right?"

Depending on the person, you could do a fair amount of damage with peanuts.

[hasthehighground]

He shakes his head. "Don't intend to. Do you know what's up with..." he waves his hand out at the scene below him. Possessed toys aren't everywhere, but there's a few. And fewer than before, which faintly concerns him. He'd rather not lose track of any.

[redintheledger]

There is a disturbance in the bar.

A mild one, when all is said and done. Clint may have even noticed the familiar shade of red-hair on one of the participants.

The other participant has just been sent flying through the air.

Agent Natasha K. Romanoff would really like to know why a Cheburashka doll just attacked her ankle.

[hasthehighground]

Clint doesn't notice, until the doll flies towards him, and he catches it in the hand net he's been using.

"--Oh! Hey," he says to Natasha, grinning then goes "no, wait, stop," and jerks the net sharply so the Cheburashka falls back down to the bottom.

He has a backpack (which appears to having something moving in it) on, and he's dumping beanbags out of a drawstring sack before stuffing the Cheburashka doll into it.

[redintheledger]

"Hi," she says, gravely.







"I'm confused."

Sitrep, Barton.

[hasthehighground]

"Mm," Clint says, securing the knot in the drawstring, and handing the bag to Natasha. He shucks his backpack. "Minor magic thing got a little out of hand. These things are programmed to cause fear, but you can't deactivate them if you're not magic." He takes the wriggling bag back, and stuffs it into his backpack with the other doll, before zipping it back up and locking the zip-pulls together.

"So I'm collecting them for Katya."

[daringyoungman]

Dick, who is in a fairly cheerful mood right now, somersaults from one rafter to the one Clint is sitting on, and helps himself to some peanuts.

[hasthehighground]

"Hey." Clint grins at him. Though that reminds him his dismount from the rafters is going to be kind of hilarious.

Oh well.

"What's up?" Is Dick older? He looks kind of older. Clint's not sure, though; he's kind of bad at guessing ages.

[daringyoungman]

He's a few weeks and the death of his parents older. That probably counts, right?

Though the question does require more of an answer than Dick really wants to say given his mood.

He shrugs.

"Nothing. How're you?"

[hasthehighground]

"Not too comfortable with these weird toys existing," Clint admits. "You know where they came from?"