Guy who tracks these things for a living (how does one get into THAT?) thinks it'll stick around for a bit. You can still have your chance if you want to ride on out. Not sure how much would be left to salvage though.
this place is so weird. the people , too. are you hoping to come back with a lot of things? looking to loot the place?
that's doing a lot.
( she thinks, from their previous conversation, that he's doing a lot. maybe in trying to keep himself from becoming inert, settling the score with his thoughts. but, she's not natasha, and she's not about to tell him what to do or not to do. )
Good to keep busy. And stash some money for a rainy day. Jewelies or whatever.
[Does it seem like a lot? Maybe. Probably. He just knows, remembers, that spending too long not doing things made the world around him a lot darker. Much better to do.]
you really came to know me when things were mostly neat and easy. your dad senses would go haywire if you knew the things we got up to growing up in novi grad.
Haven't we had enough shitty childhood stories between us? [Because while never as bad as Wanda's, not nearly, man, maybe they don't need more fucked up stories about growing up.]
I can take on a powered person just fine so long as I can shoot them from a distance or have something else going on besides taking them head on in fisticuffs.
too bad. i only have one container for everything.
( please, clint!! )
see you soon.
( wanda will make her way to the address clint gave her, on her motorcycle, and will stop only the one time to ask for proper directions. once she is certain she is in the right motel, in front of the correct door, she will knock.
she's got a backpack with cleaning supplies, and an actual plastic bag where the food is in a container. don't worry about cross-contamination. )
[Clint does not look any worse for wear, except that the bruises have had time to really blossom into dark blooms. So maybe a little worse. But he's not any worse.]
Hey there. [It's not much on the inside. At the end of the day, it's a motel, what do you want. There's a bed, a couple places to put things, a bathroom that works most of the time. Maybe if all his fighting and looting and working earns him enough joolies, he can upgrade to a room with a bathroom that works all the time. Lap of luxury!
The mold's not great, though. It creeps along the joints of the walls, not smothering, but more than anyone should want to have in their room. Given the amount anyone should want in their room is zero.] Make yourself at home.
( he's definitely worse than what she remembers, last time she saw him in person, sporting new bruises over his old one, and looking like he might have been braving those punches and hits he got from his opponents tonight. it's strange, considering how he's always been less of a close-combat fighter in her time knowing him, to see him like this.
but they have crossed that bridge before in the past.
wanda tries her best to make herself at home when she walks in, but it's impossible to not notice the mold on the walls. it's not bad, but it could do with being better.
she sets the bag down on the table, once she's made sure it's clean. wanda glances at him. )
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. )
[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?
( to be paranoid, if that's what he wants to be; especially in a city like this, with so many unknowns, so many variables, so many strangers. wanda doesn't think it's wrong to feel that way, and sometimes she wonders if she hadn't been taken in by sanji and the rest of his (current) crew if she wouldn't be feeling exactly the same. perhaps she's even been softened up a touch.
so long as clint understands that he doesn't have to be entirely alone, that much is alright. it's not like she's going to babysit him, anyway, and there's a familial pull towards him. )
How old are you again? Seventy, right? ( —she jests— ) I helped someone dye their hair green the other night. I work some boring jobs.
Feels like ninety. [He is perfectly good for joking about how old he is. He sure as hell feels old some days.] Too old to be getting crazy hair colors. What do you think, should I go bright purple, the kind that lights up under a blacklight? [but like don't tho... He runs a hand through the growing out something-hawk he's had going on for a while.] Guess maybe I should get some kind of touch up anyway.
[Quiet. Boring. He hasn't had either of those in years. He did, for a time. Stuck at home driving Laura a little crazy with more home reno projects. Teaching the kids all sorts of things. Quality time. Making up for so much lost time. He can't imagine it now.
Could he imagine it like this? Quiet conversation with a friend who feels like family? (Someone else lost to a madman's quest, a snap of the fingers-)]
You think you could be happy here? With the quiet and boring and occasionally weird.
( the idea of clint going colorful with his hair is enough to make wanda hit a fit of giggles, leaning back and putting down her spoon, as to not do something impulsively to toss her food around accidentally. if he really wanted to, wanda would be happy to help him with that, if that's what he'd want—
though, in her opinion, he looks perfectly fine as is.
but it's his question that draws her back from that moment of mirth, taking in a deep breath, exhaling. )
I am happy.
( she admits, even to herself. if she were to think about it, a kind of sadness, that unrelenting ocean of grief, remains, is unrelenting; here, though, she is free, not just from the raft, but from a world that doesn't seem to want her in it. here, she gets to be some semblance of normal, and the occasional weird perhaps helps with the monotony, for those like clint and herself, who have already dipped themselves into the weird of the world. )
The guy who cooked this... Sanji, we're roommates. I think we're friends. ( with a light smile, she adds, ) He's a pirate, he says, and his crew — Zoro and Nami, they're here, too. We live together. They're strange in their own way, but I — feel that I am one of them.
( the way she's been taken in, by this group of young adults who can manage on their own but seem to just be doing the best they can under the circumstances, who mess up, who fight each other, but who come around together every time, it's—
it's just like how it used to be, when she had pietro, when she had her friends, in sokovia, when she had a home.
belonged.
the thought alone brings a grimace to her expression, rubbing the heel of her palm against her eye, to dissuade the forming tears from spilling. pietro's absence rings so hollowly inside her, ever present. with that same hand, she reaches over the table, to grab at clint's hand, even if she only reaches his wrist right now. )
...but it's okay if you don't think you could be happy here.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
after a call that didn't go through—
my phone has sticky buttons
no subject
Clean your phone.
no subject
oh , you meant the leave a message after the tone part. that's how it ends.
my phone is clean. it just puts spaces at random , like that , see?
no subject
I'm definitely not changing it ever.
Sounds like your phone wants you to give it some space.
[There is no escaping the dad jokes.]
no subject
as long as you find it funny , i guess.
are you going to that resort place?
no subject
God I hope this one doesn't try to kill me.
no subject
( trying to keep this light(tm) )
no subject
You going?
no subject
it's too hot anyway.
( she will get FOMO later, don't worry. )
no subject
(how does one get into THAT?)
thinks it'll stick around for a bit. You can still have your chance if you want to ride on out. Not sure how much would be left to salvage though.
no subject
are you hoping to come back with a lot of things? looking to loot the place?
that's doing a lot.
( she thinks, from their previous conversation, that he's doing a lot. maybe in trying to keep himself from becoming inert, settling the score with his thoughts. but, she's not natasha, and she's not about to tell him what to do or not to do. )
no subject
[Does it seem like a lot? Maybe. Probably. He just knows, remembers, that spending too long not doing things made the world around him a lot darker. Much better to do.]
no subject
( pft, okay, clint. )
just remember to relax.
it's a resort.
send me pictures.
post-event 1, after a dome fight
no subject
no subject
( the hits the other guy got on him. )
no subject
no subject
no subject
Wait were you at the dome watching fights?
no subject
no subject
no subject
you really came to know me when things were mostly neat and easy. your dad senses would go haywire if you knew the things we got up to growing up in novi grad.
no subject
So you like watching fight club in real life huh. Hope I wasn't an embarrassment.
no subject
( the shit young clint got up to. )
i guess it helps when you aren't fighting enhanced individuals or people with powers. you did ok.
( lol wanda )
no subject
I can take on a powered person just fine so long as I can shoot them from a distance or have something else going on besides taking them head on in fisticuffs.
1/2
( anyway, )
no subject
( get the hint, clint! )
no subject
[Look...]
Should we go for noodles again? Maybe meat fruit burgers?
no subject
no subject
But that sounds nice. If you're willing. Dealer's choice.
no subject
you choose to participate in the dome fights.
i haven't been to your place. what's the address ?
no subject
It's not much. It's home away from home for now.
Does your place have mold? I could visit you instead.
no subject
we got the place cleaned up pretty well.
no subject
no subject
( please, clint!! )
see you soon.
( wanda will make her way to the address clint gave her, on her motorcycle, and will stop only the one time to ask for proper directions. once she is certain she is in the right motel, in front of the correct door, she will knock.
she's got a backpack with cleaning supplies, and an actual plastic bag where the food is in a container. don't worry about cross-contamination. )
no subject
Hey there. [It's not much on the inside. At the end of the day, it's a motel, what do you want. There's a bed, a couple places to put things, a bathroom that works most of the time. Maybe if all his fighting and looting and working earns him enough joolies, he can upgrade to a room with a bathroom that works all the time. Lap of luxury!
The mold's not great, though. It creeps along the joints of the walls, not smothering, but more than anyone should want to have in their room. Given the amount anyone should want in their room is zero.] Make yourself at home.
no subject
but they have crossed that bridge before in the past.
wanda tries her best to make herself at home when she walks in, but it's impossible to not notice the mold on the walls. it's not bad, but it could do with being better.
she sets the bag down on the table, once she's made sure it's clean. wanda glances at him. )
How do you feel about pigeon?
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. )
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?
no subject
( to be paranoid, if that's what he wants to be; especially in a city like this, with so many unknowns, so many variables, so many strangers. wanda doesn't think it's wrong to feel that way, and sometimes she wonders if she hadn't been taken in by sanji and the rest of his (current) crew if she wouldn't be feeling exactly the same. perhaps she's even been softened up a touch.
so long as clint understands that he doesn't have to be entirely alone, that much is alright. it's not like she's going to babysit him, anyway, and there's a familial pull towards him. )
How old are you again? Seventy, right? ( —she jests— ) I helped someone dye their hair green the other night. I work some boring jobs.
( a shrug. )
Quiet and boring is nice.
no subject
[Quiet. Boring. He hasn't had either of those in years. He did, for a time. Stuck at home driving Laura a little crazy with more home reno projects. Teaching the kids all sorts of things. Quality time. Making up for so much lost time. He can't imagine it now.
Could he imagine it like this? Quiet conversation with a friend who feels like family? (Someone else lost to a madman's quest, a snap of the fingers-)]
You think you could be happy here? With the quiet and boring and occasionally weird.
no subject
though, in her opinion, he looks perfectly fine as is.
but it's his question that draws her back from that moment of mirth, taking in a deep breath, exhaling. )
I am happy.
( she admits, even to herself. if she were to think about it, a kind of sadness, that unrelenting ocean of grief, remains, is unrelenting; here, though, she is free, not just from the raft, but from a world that doesn't seem to want her in it. here, she gets to be some semblance of normal, and the occasional weird perhaps helps with the monotony, for those like clint and herself, who have already dipped themselves into the weird of the world. )
The guy who cooked this... Sanji, we're roommates. I think we're friends. ( with a light smile, she adds, ) He's a pirate, he says, and his crew — Zoro and Nami, they're here, too. We live together. They're strange in their own way, but I — feel that I am one of them.
( the way she's been taken in, by this group of young adults who can manage on their own but seem to just be doing the best they can under the circumstances, who mess up, who fight each other, but who come around together every time, it's—
it's just like how it used to be, when she had pietro, when she had her friends, in sokovia, when she had a home.
belonged.
the thought alone brings a grimace to her expression, rubbing the heel of her palm against her eye, to dissuade the forming tears from spilling. pietro's absence rings so hollowly inside her, ever present. with that same hand, she reaches over the table, to grab at clint's hand, even if she only reaches his wrist right now. )
...but it's okay if you don't think you could be happy here.