brandingproblem | open post

He becomes aware of the eyes on him. And it might be distracting at first, but that's just part and parcel of this whole little ritual. Weed out distractions. Regain focus, sharp as the edge of his katana.

Clint starts with the smaller weapons. A few throwing knives, several shuriken. Each one gets the same amount of thorough attention. Sharpened on a whetstone with smooth, precise motions. Until each edge is to a demanding satisfaction. Polished after, not a trace of grit nor finger smudge left. They are packed away neatly and safely where he'll strap them to his person later, easily on hand.

He does the same with the retractable sword. It still looks good for all the cleaning he did on it already, but this, too, goes through the same careful and thorough treatment, movements easy and practiced. Distraction falls away. The plan is in mind, solidified. His hands are steady, his features stone. His gaze leaves nothing to chance each time he holds his blade out against the light, inspecting the edge. Until he finally polishes that as well and sets it aside, cleaning up the supplies.

The uniform, such as it is, does require him to move back into the bedroom space, but his focus never seems to waver. Every seam is inspected. Leather gets polished. Each bit of armor is looked over for integrity.

When the work seems at last finished, everything is set out on the bed as though waiting for someone to inhabit the silhouette it forms. And Clint breathes in deep, holds it with eyes sliding shut, and lets it go again slow and easy.

And now the wait. But he feels, in a way, that he can face anything with the same deadly countenance as the Ronin. That includes patience.

He did not forget that Steve is there. It's just that Steve became background noise.

Once settled into an out of the way spot, Steve makes a point to stay there for the duration.

He does not make a thing of being completely motionless. He still works on that sketch, getting Clint included because there's something striking about his focus on the edges of all those blades, against a backdrop of a really pretty view. He pays enough attention to the television to follow the story-line off and on. He just doesn't get up and move around or do anything that will actively move him out of the background, or in any way draw particular amounts of attention.

That holds even through Clint coming closer to check his 'uniform', and keeps holding through the more obvious mental shift. He does stop a moment, look up and tilt his head a little to take the chance to study Clint's face, how he's standing, where he's holding his weight, what the visible bruising on his body looks like.

Once he's satisfied though, he just goes back to drawing. Like he is not also going to go out a few minutes after Clint, get on a roof and keep right on watching from a reasonable physical (and emotional) distance.

The bruising and pain and ache and stiffness also fade into the background. Good fuel for the mission. Keep him sharp, on his toes. Rest can come later after the job is complete.

It's not a oneness with the universe kind of thing, but it's about as zen as he gets these days. On his own, anyway.

He comes over to Steve at last, tipping his head. "Still good on the floor?"

Steve was completely willing to keep on keeping his mouth shut until after it was all said and done, if that was what Clint needed. Since Clint's approaching him, though.

He closes the sketchbook, not to hide what he's doing, but just because of the attention shift. "Yeah, actually, though I can move if I'm in the way."

"You're good." He'll join Steve on the floor. "It's just the waiting game now, until I pack up my stuff and gear up. Everything's otherwise ready."

"I guess practically speaking, I'll move when you gear up and get myself parked so you don't have to worry about it. You moving okay?" On the floor makes one corner of his mouth turn up into a faint smile. This is becoming a thing, and he... doesn't hate it, even if a lot of the conversations they have down here are... rough.

"Moving as well as I'm going to. Which is enough." For what's at hand. "Nothing to worry about."

"You have a time you're planning on leaving yet?" Just... taking Clint's word for it. And that's easy enough, actually. this is so different, but all for worry about Clint, it doesn't become a desire to micromanage or interfere. it isn't doubt.

Clint makes a confirming noise, head tipping back and eyes drooping. Not shut entirely. "You'll know when to get in place. Since I'll be gone and getting my gear on."

"That's all I needed." Then he stretches his legs out, fairly carefully, and pretty much just... stays settles, half watching Clint and half running through his own stuff - some related to moving and position and plans and where Clint told him that medical kit was, some what he needs to do to get out tomorrow and what he needs to do when he makes it back to Natasha and the others, and how he's going to track Clint again and how long he'll wait.

Mostly though: Waiting now.

Clint lets the silence last and linger for a time. As far as he's concerned, for as nice(?) as this unexpected meetup was, Steve is not his responsibility, and he can find his own way after what happens, happens. But he does start to wonder about the after.

"What are you going to say? To the others."

Steve would be pretty insulted by any implication that he needed Clint's help on the practicals. He is pretty startled by the question anyway and blinks, slowly.

"Most of them? Nothing. Nat, I'll tell you're in one piece and you seem as likely as anyone doing what you do to stay that way."

"If I was gonna die, I'd have done it by now. Can't do it. It's just not part of who I am. Maybe what I do isn't really right or noble, but I'm doing it, because I can do it, and it's going to make a difference. If I ever had to stop..."

Well. If that ever happened, that might be a different story. But it's not the story he's got right now, so.

"Someone else has gotta take me out first, far as I'm concerned. Doesn't mean I'm running headfirst into anything unprepared."

"Yeah." There's a moment or two of pause, there. "Being here's been reassuring for me, that way. I don't think even that much is anybody's business - except Nat. Feels like passing that much along is something I can do that doesn't... put you out there otherwise."

If he's wrong, tell him.

"She can know anything you know." Full permission, full stop, end of story. "And if anyone else is curious, you can tell them whatever you like within reason. Still alive. Not dying if it can be helped." So on and so forth.

"We'll see how much I trust the others and feel like telling them, but I appreciate you being good with me telling Natasha everything I know." It's different there. His relationship with her is different. It just... feels different with her than the few people still around. If Steve's closer friends and better relationships still existed, that list might be longer, but they're not.

"It's Natasha. She deserves to know. I know she's keeping tabs." He tips his head toward Steve. "But you don't trust the others?"

"That was my reasoning." He's still relieved by that, but. "The rest of that kinda depends on what you mean by trust. Trust them not to try and commit acts of violence or something, sure. Not so much otherwise. Maybe Banner, but I don't even know where he is."

"Depends on what you mean by trust." But maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe he spent too much time at home than with the team doing crazy things; maybe it's hard to think of him as ever being part of a team to start with. "But I'm going to trust you to know what you're doing."

"It means that I don't know where Banner is, Thor's busy, I'm telling Nat, and that leaves Tony and I'll let him beat the shit out of me but I won't hand him something that easy to use against me - or carelessly fuck up with you. You don't really know any of the other people around well enough for it to be any of their business." He's not explaining to convince, he's explaining because Clint... well expressed interest in what he meant by trust.

And because they're on the floor, probably.

He won't point out that Thor's not actually all that busy. Either Steve's being polite, or he doesn't get around the area much to have heard otherwise. Tony is a different beast he'll defer to Steve to. Probably doesn't want to hear about anything even remotely Avengers-y anymore, and who can blame him?

"Fair enough. If I run into Bruce, I'll probably just keep quiet about it. If he disappeared, it's for a reason."

He's being polite about Thor.

"Yeah and so will I. Though I guess every reason I'd apply to him should apply to you, but I sure felt driven to track you down...." Even he's not sure what that was about.

"Less likely to flatten you like a pancake. He's always good at being alone, so he and the big guy can work out whatever their differences are on their own. Hopefully he makes he way back out of whatever hole he's dug for himself. Or ends up content enough to stay there."

"Hulk and I get along fine," Steve says, somewhat dryly. "And even if we didn't, no. Being afraid isn't a factor. That he prefers being alone and wanted to be that way before this all started's a factor, though."

"So me fucking off into the night without a word, that wasn't a factor?" Just...curious with regard to that point.

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