(no subject)

[hasthehighground]

Clint Barton's at the Bar, with a decaf coffee sitting in front of him. He's watching the light play across the glass of the various bottles of alcohol stocked across from him.

It's been a good day, but a long one. He's wearing a heavy khaki workman's jacket, and to those with the nose for it smells more of gunpowder than usual.

Interrupt his thoughts?

[OOC: Tentatively closed to new threads; slowtimes all around for the ones I have? <3. I should be around the 'net most of this week.]

Comments

[redintheledger]

"You're a sight for tired eyes," Nadine says, taking the seat next to him. She's a businesswoman with slacks and sensible shoes, a navy blouse with a waist she hasn't taken in yet.

Nina doesn't tend to bother with tailoring, no matter how much Natasha winces.

[hasthehighground]

Clint glances to her, with a miniscule jerk out of whatever daydream he'd found himself in, and smiles. "Hey."

[redintheledger]

She can smell the gunpowder, and read the quietness that is more than normal.

"If the coffee's cold, I think I'm in the exact kind of mood to buy you something to drink," she says with a smile.

[hasthehighground]

Clint turns, opening himself up to her and resting his closest leg on the cross-piece of her bar stool. The coffee disappears into the Bar surface. "Yeah? Not often I get an offer like that from a pretty lady."

[redintheledger]

"What can I say, I'm a daring kind of girl. Who'd like to do something good and productive today," she adds, her voice sliding from charming to rueful with all of the skill of an actress.

"And what'd be the gentleman's pleasure? That I will pay for with my own money this time, not our mysterious shared tab."

[hasthehighground]

He knocks his leg into hers, lightly. "I... really don't know." Clint glances down to the Bar surface, brow furrowing, then back to her. "A chelada, maybe? Or lady's choice."

[daringyoungman]

"What're you thinking about?"

Dick is hanging, from his knees, from a rafter right above Clint's head. HI!

[hasthehighground]

Clint grins up at him. "Mostly that I hate paperwork," he admits. He pushes a stool out with his foot, in case Dick wants a seat. "How've you been?"

[daringyoungman]

Hmm? Does Dick want a seat? Well, the invitation was made, so he should take it.

"Same old," He drops down vertically, grabbing the sides of the barstool and landing in a handstand.
"Same old." He lifts one hand to the side and his legs go in the opposite direction.
"What paperwork?" Lowering his legs down below his hand, he turns half a cartwheel so he's sitting on the stool.

[hasthehighground]

Dick makes Clint feel old. Whatever, he was never an acrobat anyway.

"I'm on a trip, with the security consulting," he says. "So I have to write up what I'm doing, and fill out the paperwork in triplicate for everything, including why I decided to spend money on eating a hamburger instead of live off of pb&j."

He's a little irritated at SHIELD. SHIELD is good about financials for the important things (weapons, secure housing), but food? They get picky.

[daringyoungman]

"That's stupid."

Dick exists on a diet of concession-stall extras and food you can cook in a trailer. He doesn't think much about the expenses of food.

"Can't they just give you the money to eat and you spend it on what you want?"

[hasthehighground]

"You'd think." Clint shrugs. "But they like knowing."

He takes a drink of his (cold) coffee, and makes a face; when he sets it down, he gets a replacement. "Your 'same old' has to be more interesting than paperwork."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

That's a familiar smell! Usually a bad one. Gunpowder smell mostly comes from people who've been trying to attack his human. Not always, but mostly.

Clint, there's a wary-looking dog with one blue eye, one brown eye, and a collar that looks like somebody hacked the leather trim off a coat with a hunting knife and added a buckle, and he's watching you.

[hasthehighground]

Clint doesn't notice the dog right away; not until he's moved to grab his coffee again. Then he stills, and glances over his shoulder, before back to the dog. "Uh," he says. "Hi?"

He's going to feel really stupid if it's just a normal dog.

(Sorry, Clint.)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Is Dogmeat bothering you?" says the young woman who hurriedly comes up behind him. She's in her Brotherhood fatigues today, rather than her Vault suit or her armor. "I'm so sorry. He gets away from me here sometimes and starts poking at people to see if they'll give him food."

[hasthehighground]

Clint glances up at her, and looks slightly sheepish.

"No, he's fine. Just... uh," how do you say he seemed sort of disapproving about a normal dog without looking stupid? You don't. Wait, Dogmeat? "... Dogmeat?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

She nods. "He's named after a dog from the histories of a tribal friend of mine," she says. "I'm not sure how the original Dogmeat got his name, but this one started barking when Sativa mentioned her ancestor's dog, so we figured that he might as well get the same. I wasn't very familiar with animals at the time."

To put things mildly.

"My name's Ellen, though."

[hasthehighground]

"Huh." Makes sense. Clint extends a hand. "I'm Clint. Good to meet you, Ellen."

[chrysopteron]

Gunpowder even smells grey - an odd slate shade that doesn't make sense to Iris at first, but she pieces it together eventually.

"Hello, kyrios. May I be seated?" the redhead asks, climbing onto a stool before Clint can actually answer.

[hasthehighground]

Clint's head jerks slightly as he glances to her, and smiles slightly. "Feel free."

He doesn't recognize the word she said -- he's pretty sure it's not English, but that's all.

[chrysopteron]

"Thank you."

Iris sits next to Clint, staring directly forward without actually ordering anything for a quiet minute.

Leaning towards Clint slightly, "What were you doing?"

[hasthehighground]

Clint laughs, surprised, as he glances over. "Uh. Watching the reflections on the glass, actually. How they change from bottle to bottle, depending on -- the glass type?" He shrugs, a little self-concious. "It's interesting."

[chrysopteron]

"Oh. I did not think that humans were able to perceive the differences in such things. I am glad to hear it though! It is a worthwhile sight."

One that Iris perceives every day, but that does not make it any less special.

"What is your name, sir?"

[hasthehighground]

[ooc: hi! So I know before proceeding, does Iris have a noticeable accent? Clint's hearing impaired, and it totally might not come up, but it'll give me a better mental picture of how much he's actively paying attention to her words/context/mouth movements. :). Thanks!]

[chrysopteron]

Her accent is very lightly clipped Mediterranean. She usually sounds...formal, more so than anything else.