(no subject)

[hasthehighground]

Clint's putting an unlit cigarette in his mouth when he enters the bar; he stops for a brief moment before shrugging and putting the cigarette back in its box, tucking it away in his blazer. Unlike last time, he's dressed like an office worker just off work, loosened tie included. If you don't notice the concealed holster and his shined black combat boots, and people usually don't.

He grabs a beer from the bar, and leans back to watch the crowd.

[OOC: Aaaand I am asleep! Slowtimes all around? ♥. No new threads, please.]

Comments

[cutting_edgex23]

X does not miss concealed weapons.

This may be why she is studying him intently from a nearby booth.

If and when his gaze crosses hers, she is not about to look away.

"Hello."

[hasthehighground]

It does; Clint's pretty open about watching places (and everything else).

He tips his head at her, casually curious as to what she's going to say. "Hey."

[cutting_edgex23]

"You know the rules? Here."

It is an important question.

Just to check.

[hasthehighground]

Clint straightens a bit, figuring she's security. Doesn't hurt to show the management a little respect.

"I think so. No violence, no nudity or other non-family-friendly stuff in the bar?"

He kind of conflates "no violence," and "no grudges" in his head.

[cutting_edgex23]

"Yes," X says, nodding once.

"Many people forget. When they are angry."

She accompanies this with a slight shrug.

"You will not?"

[redintheledger]

The crowd is shortly plus one short, unarmed redhead. Possibly unarmed - the a-line nature of her knee-length dress (today autumn colours in geometric patterns) could probably hide a slim knife).

Fortunately today, the woman calling herself Nadine isn't carrying any classified documents, and she walks over.

"Quite a place you found us," she says, fond. She'd sent him an email after last time, all overly-romantic gushing in amused mockery of his note, but she's still entertained.

And confused.

And cautious.

So, overall, she's going to default to entertained as the emotion showing.

[hasthehighground]

"Hey," Clint says, and grins at her, straightening slightly. (Just slightly.) "Glad you made it."

[redintheledger]

"My lunch hour has been graciously allowed to be free," she says, airily. "I decided to see if this place would turn up." She takes the stool next to him, brushing her arm against his a bit more blatantly than she normally would.

Husbands are useful covers.

[hasthehighground]

... seriously, Nat. Seriously.

Clint's not going to win this one, he already knows. And yeah, he doesn't want to undermine any cover she's built-- but he was totally making plans to hit on aliens. When life gives you an alien bar...

He gives her an epic side-eye, even as he leans back against her lightly, because it makes him feel a bit better. "Huh. I thought you had to let this place find you. Like some organic... process."

Or the IRS.

Or Coulson.

[mjolnir_retriever]

Here's a pretty visible guy amidst the crowd!

He's just draining the last of a very large glass tankard which used to contain beer. (He'll head to the bar in a minute.)

[hasthehighground]

Clint watches for him a long moment.

If Thor were watching him back, he could probably see the hell, why not moment of decision very clearly.

When Thor's back at the bar: "It was Thor, wasn't it?"

[mjolnir_retriever]

Thor glances over, interested but amiable.

He... has no idea who this guy is. But whatever! Thor's a prince and (to some) a god; he's used to strangers recognizing him.

"It is," he agrees.

The empty glass gets set down on Bar, and obligingly refills itself. Thor leaves it there for the moment.

"Though I fear I don't know your name."

"My thanks," he adds to Bar.

[hasthehighground]

"Barton," Clint says, helpful as ever. "We didn't exactly meet, but our paths... crossed, once, in New Mexico."

And Clint almost killed him. Thankfully, Thor doesn't know that, because Clint would rather not find out if alien lightning gods hold grudges.

[balancingminds]

Charles is sitting near him, tucking his notebook in his pocket and nods to Clint,

"Its a busy evening."

Today he's in a tweed jacket over a partially unbuttoned dress and notes Clint's suit and the awareness of that holster.

[hasthehighground]

"Is it?" Clint asks, glancing to him amiably. "This is my second time here, so."

Clint sizes Charles up fast and rough -- he's not exactly gathering profiles, here. Educated, rich, probably not good in a fight. He doesn't dismiss him, though -- people've surprised him before, and you don't have to be built to shoot a gun or fuck up someone's plans with sheer braininess and friends.

He straightens, and offers a hand. "Clint Barton."

[balancingminds]

"Yes, from my experience it is. Charles Xavier,"

He feels rather complimented by Clint's thoughts, they remind him of what he's heard a good deal from CIA agents. Their low level paranoia is something he's finally managed to filter out, it was giving him a headache. He returns the handshake.

[hasthehighground]

The name doesn't ring a bell.

(Well, for a moment there's a half-leap of association, but it's only to someone else he's met. Xavier isn't that odd of a name, even if Clint mostly knows people who pronounce it the other way.)

"Good to meet you," he says, with a half-grin. "I don't really want to ask if you come here often, but that's kind of the question you've left me."

[souffle_girlek]

There's a half-bloomed red rose tucked behind one ear and a heavy dusting of flour in her hair, but she looks positively victorious when she sets the chocolate torte on the bar.

"See? Ye of little faith." She crows at the bar, and is immediately rewarded with what looks like a rather long list.

".... shut up."

[hasthehighground]

Clint grins when he sees her.

"Hey," he says, raising his voice just a bit so's to catch her attention. "You keeping busy?"

[souffle_girlek]

She grins back, patently ignoring the Bar's list of damages.

"Hello! ... Suppose I have, got chased by a book with teeth, found cars." Oswin kind of adores the cars. She hasn't the first idea how to properly work one, but... cars.

[hasthehighground]

"Did... the book with teeth have legs?"

His brow is furrowed, because. What, Oswin.

[starrydome]

The door opens and lets in a tall figure and a gust of cold wind, smelling of snow and wild woods.

Once inside, Elrond lets down his hood and walks toward the Bar. He is dressed for a winter hunt, from his heavy boots to the dark wool cloak, shielding him from the wind and the light snow.

And there's the bow of course and the quiver. The wood is dark with use and age, the arrows freshly fletched.

Elrond puts his weapon down carefully and sits down, unfastening his cloak. His hair is held in place by a thin circle, and his eyes hold the radianceof stars .

[hasthehighground]

Clint's staring. He means no harm, but he has a tendency not to hide his attention and Elrond's certainly caught it.

(That is a beautiful bow. And are those handfletched? ... Damn.)

[starrydome]

Elrond is not unused to people looking at him. It goes with being a figure if legend.
So he merely nods politely at the Man looking at him, with a small smile.

He'd be surprised at the surprise at the hand fletched feathers though. Not being able to imagine any other way of doing it.

[hasthehighground]

"Hey," Clint says after a moment, jerking his head up slightly in acknowledgement. "That's a gorgeous bow."

No point in not cutting to the chase, right? Even with people he's pretty sure are aliens by more than technicality.