Cute flying city rats that probably taste like chicken? [He's just assuming she's asking because it's on the menu.] Probably less gamey than quail.
[It's strange. To see her again, in general, and have her here, and for her to invite herself over like they're going to pretend anything is normal. She's worried, and she's got every right to be.]
I know better than to tell you you don't have to take care of me. Not gonna keep me from thinking it loudly though.
( so, it's not like she'd be able to tell or agree with his statement. still, his words don't deter her from going about opening the bag and putting the food containers down on the table. she even brought some of those wooden forks and spoons.
for clint's benefit, the food is still warm. )
Don't worry, I'll ignore your thinking, too. ( she takes a sidestep, pulling up one of the chairs at the table. ) Have a seat. It actually tastes pretty good.
( considering this is food made by a 'cook' proper and all. )
Cool, I ignore my own thinking all the time anyway.
[He isn't stiff in his movements. That'll come tomorrow, after whatever rest he gets, when the soreness really kicks in. That won't keep him from his job, obviously. Or any of his other activities. He slumps into the seat and gives the food a whiff.] Smells pretty normal, and y'know what? I'll take smells normal and tastes good around here.
[Not that the food is necessarily bad. It just...sometimes tends toward weird.]
So. You placing bets on anyone when you go watch fights?
( once he takes a seat, wanda passes him one of the wooden forks and spoons. she settles down herself, opening up her food container and mixing the rice around with the meat, getting some of the red sauce all over it.
she imagines that clint will feel more compelled to eat if he sees her doing as much, too.
a shrug initiates her answer to his question. her words then come, mumbled and a little rough. )
Don't got enough joolies for that.
( it's not really her scene, as he had surmised earlier, but clint actually participating in them makes her feel like she has to go to just make sure he isn't dead after a match. it's not entirely sound reasoning, but it makes her feel like she has a breadth of control.
a spoonful of rice into her mouth, and wanda starts chewing. it tastes good—quite excellent, too. trust sanji to make food with the ingredients here and make it feel like it's a gourmet meal.
You can make a pretty good payday off a good fight. Make a name for yourself, get noticed, put on a good show. They're good about not letting someone just come back night after night and fight themselves into a pile of bones. [This obviously doesn't keep people from straight up dying in the ring, of course. But shh.
The important part is that he's eating. He would've eaten all on his own like a big boy without her swinging by with a to-go bag, but it's nice. That she cares enough. Food is a love language all its own.
Still. He stirs it up, helps himself to a couple heaping spoonfuls, and considers her. Considers the question asked.] This isn't an intervention, is it?
( it's a bit of a consideration, should it be a painless way of making a lot of money, and fast. wanda is thankful that she isn't in a position where she feels that she has to, but it makes her wonder about the motivation of others. it's not like clint was always hungry for violence, anyway. for the type of 'job' he has (had?), he seemed to want retirement more than the next big fight to save the world.
so, when he asks, and it becomes clear to her that he has his own suspicions about her being there, wanda can't help but snort. )
What makes you think that?
( she is hardly in any position to try and tell others what to do or not do. )
I might be trying to check up on you without being obvious, ( failing, despite her efforts ) but I'm not going to tell you how to live. your life.
We can keep tabs on each other, no?
( scooping up some rice, she adds, )
You can ask me about what I'm up to, too. I didn't mean to sound like I'm interrogating you.
( there's a small, bemused smile on her features. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[It's strange. To see her again, in general, and have her here, and for her to invite herself over like they're going to pretend anything is normal. She's worried, and she's got every right to be.]
I know better than to tell you you don't have to take care of me. Not gonna keep me from thinking it loudly though.
no subject
( so, it's not like she'd be able to tell or agree with his statement. still, his words don't deter her from going about opening the bag and putting the food containers down on the table. she even brought some of those wooden forks and spoons.
for clint's benefit, the food is still warm. )
Don't worry, I'll ignore your thinking, too. ( she takes a sidestep, pulling up one of the chairs at the table. ) Have a seat. It actually tastes pretty good.
( considering this is food made by a 'cook' proper and all. )
no subject
[He isn't stiff in his movements. That'll come tomorrow, after whatever rest he gets, when the soreness really kicks in. That won't keep him from his job, obviously. Or any of his other activities. He slumps into the seat and gives the food a whiff.] Smells pretty normal, and y'know what? I'll take smells normal and tastes good around here.
[Not that the food is necessarily bad. It just...sometimes tends toward weird.]
So. You placing bets on anyone when you go watch fights?
no subject
she imagines that clint will feel more compelled to eat if he sees her doing as much, too.
a shrug initiates her answer to his question. her words then come, mumbled and a little rough. )
Don't got enough joolies for that.
( it's not really her scene, as he had surmised earlier, but clint actually participating in them makes her feel like she has to go to just make sure he isn't dead after a match. it's not entirely sound reasoning, but it makes her feel like she has a breadth of control.
a spoonful of rice into her mouth, and wanda starts chewing. it tastes good—quite excellent, too. trust sanji to make food with the ingredients here and make it feel like it's a gourmet meal.
now, a question of her own: )
Do you make a lot by fighting?
no subject
The important part is that he's eating. He would've eaten all on his own like a big boy without her swinging by with a to-go bag, but it's nice. That she cares enough. Food is a love language all its own.
Still. He stirs it up, helps himself to a couple heaping spoonfuls, and considers her. Considers the question asked.] This isn't an intervention, is it?
no subject
so, when he asks, and it becomes clear to her that he has his own suspicions about her being there, wanda can't help but snort. )
What makes you think that?
( she is hardly in any position to try and tell others what to do or not do. )
I might be trying to check up on you without being obvious, ( failing, despite her efforts ) but I'm not going to tell you how to live. your life.
We can keep tabs on each other, no?
( scooping up some rice, she adds, )
You can ask me about what I'm up to, too. I didn't mean to sound like I'm interrogating you.
( there's a small, bemused smile on her features. )