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. )
[Retirement feels like a distant dream, now. To lay down his weapons and to rest. He'd spent time at home, under house arrest, indulging in making up for lost time, and now...now he's never going to get the chance again. What does retirement even look like here? What possible incentive is there to lay it all down?
Wanda has kept her promises. Hasn't, to his knowledge, pried into his head. Only skims the surface when his feelings get loud. She doesn't ask what happens (in her future), what happened (in his recent past), and gives him space, and gives him time.
She's a good person like that, and her bemusement mollifies him. He's not ashamed of his suspicions. But it's more looking out for a friend who does some stupid and dangerous stuff, make sure he doesn't die, make sure he takes some kind of care of himself, than anything to do with making him stop. He slumps a little for it with a sigh, makes to rub at his face except that hurts, so he just stuffs his face with more good food that a good friend brought when she didn't need to. He's being kind of ungrateful about it, huh? That he can feel a twinge of shame about.]
Sorry. You're right, sorry, guess I'm just...being paranoid. We all need all the friends we can get out here, right? [What a concept. Friends. People to rely on. He'd started to let himself fall back into old habits with the team, and then he fell and fell and fell, and made himself reset back to relying on only himself, surrounded by potentially dangerous strangers.] You been up to anything interesting? Besides watching stupid old men in a fighting ring?
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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. )
no subject
Wanda has kept her promises. Hasn't, to his knowledge, pried into his head. Only skims the surface when his feelings get loud. She doesn't ask what happens (in her future), what happened (in his recent past), and gives him space, and gives him time.
She's a good person like that, and her bemusement mollifies him. He's not ashamed of his suspicions. But it's more looking out for a friend who does some stupid and dangerous stuff, make sure he doesn't die, make sure he takes some kind of care of himself, than anything to do with making him stop. He slumps a little for it with a sigh, makes to rub at his face except that hurts, so he just stuffs his face with more good food that a good friend brought when she didn't need to. He's being kind of ungrateful about it, huh? That he can feel a twinge of shame about.]
Sorry. You're right, sorry, guess I'm just...being paranoid. We all need all the friends we can get out here, right? [What a concept. Friends. People to rely on. He'd started to let himself fall back into old habits with the team, and then he fell and fell and fell, and made himself reset back to relying on only himself, surrounded by potentially dangerous strangers.] You been up to anything interesting? Besides watching stupid old men in a fighting ring?