milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When Milliways appeared in Sherwood, Will was glad of it as the days have been full and hot.

He heads to the lake where he strips down to his hose, making a pile of the rest of his clothing with his sword and dagger and boots on top before plunging in to the lake.

Then he gets out to lay on the pier with his shirt off and drink the beer he picked up on his way outside.

Once the sun's gone down, he'll head inside and relax by the fire but for now, its nice to be outside where no one is going to appear and try to fight him. Though it does look like there was a major fight here but there aren't bodies which is good.

(OOC: Find him in the lake, by the lake or inside. Open until it scrolls.)

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Clint raises his eyebrows slightly but, after a moment, nods.

He touches his ear after letting go, habitually (it doesn't actually do any good in re-adjusting his hearing aid), before resting his arm on the sofa.

"Where're you in from?"

"Nottingham, England durin' the reign o'Richard the Lion'eart. I'm one o'the earlier folks 'ere. What about ye?"

Edited 2013-07-25 17:55 (UTC)

England. Okay.

"United States," he says, easily. "Early 21st century." After a sip of coffee: "I haven't heard of your king."

"Oh aye, 'e's Richard Plantaganet, first o''is name to rule England,"

Usually he's known but he knows that names and history change.

Richard the first. England. Clint will look him up when he gets home.

He nods. "You've been here awhile, though?" It's almost not a question. The guy seems pretty chill in Milliways for someone from back when they told time in kings.

Then again, technology advanced enough is probably easy enough to encompass in 'magic'.

"Aye, goin' on seven years with some years goin' faster than others. What about ye?"

He doesn't think he's seen Clint around but Clint also seems like someone who's good at not being seen when he doesn't want to be.

"... Less than that," Clint breathes a laugh. "A few months. I guess you know X?"

"Aye, but na that well," There are other people on Security he knows better.

Clint nods.

And drinks his coffee.

He takes another drink of his beer and in time asks, "Ye from 'er world?"

"Hm? Oh." Clint tilts his head, thinking. "Closer than some worlds. She just seems like she's been here a long time."

"Aye, she 'as, na sure 'ow long. Always 'ard to keep track o'such things 'ere as doors come an go,"

There are people he misses who haven't had doors in a long time.

Clint's eyes have focused in on his mouth; they flick back up to meet Will's once he's finished. "Sorry," he says, not sounding particularly sorry. "I didn't catch that."

Will shrugs before saying,

"Na certain if she's been 'ere longer than me or na, time's odd 'ere."

Clint's expression clears a bit. "Yeah, I was kind of getting that impression."

He takes a drink.

"You specialize in swords, or are they secondary?"

"They're what I'm best with though can 'old me own with a staff an without anythin'. Ye?"

"Mostly distance weapons," he admits. "I haven't worked with swords since I was a teenager. Guns for the most part, but bows are what I like best."

"Oh aye, ye e'er used an English longbow? That's what I know. I'll ne'er be as fine as Robin but I'm a decent shot."

"A friend had me try it at a demonstration. Maybe... fifteen years ago? Interesting weapon. I prefer recurves for the sort of thing you'd use a longbow for," he shrugs. "I know them better. Have you checked out a compound bow?"

"Seen 'em 'ere but 'avena used 'em that much."

Clint nods. "They're mostly useful if you have to keep full draw for any length of time. I prefer recurves for technical shots."

"What do ye mean by technical?" Its a modern word that he's heard with a lot of meaninings.

"When you need to be able to adjust quickly," he says, after a moment. "I'd use a compound if I was sitting in a tree, waiting for a close buck to come into better view," or a thunder god, "but a recurve if I was taking advantage of wind currents. Or anything longer-distance."

"Oh aye, I can see 'ow it would work better."

Clint nods, looks into his almost-finished mug of coffee. "I should probably head out," he says, mildly regretful. Two hours is pushing it, for keeping your circadian rhythm together. "But, hey, I'll keep an eye out if you want to go to the range."