I'm not going to call the cops if you curse. [It's cute though. That's cute. She's cute.]
Be there soon.
[Given he knows exactly where Frank lives (lived?), and that Amy was in a room beside his, easy enough to get to. Easy enough to drive there with his eyes closed, if he wanted.
God. When did he get used to this place?
It's weird, too, not to just go right into Frank's door. (Well, duh, he'd knock first, but still.) It's less weird to talk directly to a teenager, but Frank was the one to introduce them, the one to make sure they got over anything awkward right away so that Clint could take some responsibility looking after her if something happened. And...something certainly did happen.
God damn it.
There's a little rap at the door.] Hey, it's your favorite purple Avenger.
[Hey, we all have our stupid sentimental reasons for doing the things we do.
Cursing just so happens to fall under that umbrella.
But she's not about to get all squishy feelsy aobut it, so instead she waits patiently for Clint to make his way over. Playing sudoku in a crinkly book she found in a gutter seems like the perfect way to pass the time until then. It doesn't remotely clear her mind — if anything it just makes the bad thoughts fester, albeit more gently — and she's relieved when the knock happens at the door.
When she pokes her head out, she has an immediate quip.]
Purple's a pretty underappreciated color in the hero world, huh?
Y'know, my original suit, it was more of a dark maroon type of color in with the black, but I guess purple translated better. [He gives one of those awkward white guy smiles.] Good thing I like it well enough as a color. It's underappreciated in general.
[He could ask her how she's doing. But she's struck him as just adult-pretending enough to know she'll have picked up the habit of lying through her teeth and blowing it off.
Or, shit, that's a teenager thing, too, huh? It's been so long since he's had to deal with that. He jerks his head to come follow along, since they're not exactly doing tea and cookies here.]
So I guess my question for you is, you wanna learn to shoot arrows, or you wanna learn to shoot bullets? I only have one bow on me, and you're not gonna be able to shoot it well. [Or at all, given the pull weight behind it. Or even want to try, given the admittedly weird and gross alteration this place made to his primary weapon.] I can still teach you archery, just don't expect a roaring success.
Maroon? [Her nose wrinkles.] ... Wow. Mandela Effect at work.
[Her childhood was a lie. Go figure.
As she tucks her hands into her jacket pockets and follows along (backpack on shoulders, of course, because she's not about to go out without snacks), she considers his question sincerely. The answer she finds is a little embarrassing, but...]
I, uh. To be honest, I wasn't asking to shoot arrows for self-defense or anything like that.
[He thinks about digging the hole deeper, to say that none of his Hawkeye getups have been purple, strictly speaking, but somehow her admitting to wanting to do this for fun (read: distraction) erases that from his mind.
So if he's quiet for a beat too long, it's only because he just wasn't expecting that, somehow.]
I guess I was figuring that...I dunno, that after what happened, and hanging out with Frank, you were looking for something practical. [Is it verboten to bring Frank up right now? Unsure, but he's moving right along.] Don't get me wrong, I'm...glad. I'm glad you think it'd be fun. Not everyone grew up with hunting or had archery clubs at school or whatever.
[He thinks about bringing up Lila, about how he'd been teaching his own daughter before--before. Sets the thought aside. Doesn't shove it in a box and bury it under the floorboards, just sets it on a shelf to reach for later. Because it might be awkward to bring up, and he doesn't normally talk about the family with people who aren't already in the know. But it does make him feel a little warmer inside for it. Reminds him he's done this before, too.]
You know, I'm actually better with a bow than a gun? Don't get me wrong, I'm still the best shot around, but it doesn't feel as good or as natural.
[Her gaze cuts over to Clint for a spare moment at the mention of Frank. Would it be easier to just talk about him as if all of that horrible stuff didn't just happen? That she didn't just watch Frank lose it after someone died on his watch? The same person who she had to scrub out from under her nails when everything settled? It'd be easier to just pretend Frank was a curse word, something her grandmother would have admonished a long time ago.]
My parents weren't exactly big on recreational family activities. I did try playing a flute in elementary school band once. That's about the level of club I participated in before I gave up two lessons into it.
[After a moment, the snark slides into something a little more sincere.]
It's cool. Guns are — well, they're kind of a dime a dozen.
It was cool to hold a shotgun, though. Felt like an action hero.
when you thought you hit post and discover days later you did not
The time it takes to reload a shotgun is time you could spend lining up your next arrow shot. Plus, reusable ammo. [He will die on that hill.] I can't picture you firing a shotgun, though. Depending on it, might knock you off your feet. You don't get that with a bow.
[It's fine to not talk about Frank. That's the sensitive subject they're trying to avoid, so...no questions asked about him, got it. He opens the car door for her like a gentleman-dad-uncle before hopping into the driver's seat.]
You'll probably feel like a big game hunter with a bow. Ready to hunt some flux deer.
[If there were any better response to demonstrate how she ended up in Frank's care, that'd be one of them. Granted, one of the times she'd shot a shotgun, it had been at the head of someone who was hired to kill her and all of her friends. Maybe it was a good thing that she'd missed. She's still trying to figure out how much she should hate John Pilgrim or pity him. After all, he was the one who left her friends dead in a heap.
Life is so utterly messy, so effed up beyond reason.
She supposes in retrospect... it's her own fault, for being involved in the things she'd been involved in.]
I'll only shoot flux deer if they look straight out of a horror movie.
Okay, no deer targets for you, only regular targets. [And certainly no people-shaped targets. He does not need to teach her that unless she asks.] Wonder if messed up flux deer is good eats.
[That's mostly a joke. He's not sure he'd want to eat anything not already cooked and canned and bagged and sealed and whatnot from out there in any given crazy weird zone. And now that the train's running, there's more fresh goods from farmtown, so food isn't exactly at some kind of premium.]
So what is it you do? For a job. You got something that's keeping you afloat? You drive your car okay? [Is she safe, in the wake of the everything, does she need pointers, is she okay--he can't help but let the dad show through.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
-> action
Be there soon.
[Given he knows exactly where Frank lives (lived?), and that Amy was in a room beside his, easy enough to get to. Easy enough to drive there with his eyes closed, if he wanted.
God. When did he get used to this place?
It's weird, too, not to just go right into Frank's door. (Well, duh, he'd knock first, but still.) It's less weird to talk directly to a teenager, but Frank was the one to introduce them, the one to make sure they got over anything awkward right away so that Clint could take some responsibility looking after her if something happened. And...something certainly did happen.
God damn it.
There's a little rap at the door.] Hey, it's your favorite purple Avenger.
action
Cursing just so happens to fall under that umbrella.
But she's not about to get all squishy feelsy aobut it, so instead she waits patiently for Clint to make his way over. Playing sudoku in a crinkly book she found in a gutter seems like the perfect way to pass the time until then. It doesn't remotely clear her mind — if anything it just makes the bad thoughts fester, albeit more gently — and she's relieved when the knock happens at the door.
When she pokes her head out, she has an immediate quip.]
Purple's a pretty underappreciated color in the hero world, huh?
no subject
[He could ask her how she's doing. But she's struck him as just adult-pretending enough to know she'll have picked up the habit of lying through her teeth and blowing it off.
Or, shit, that's a teenager thing, too, huh? It's been so long since he's had to deal with that. He jerks his head to come follow along, since they're not exactly doing tea and cookies here.]
So I guess my question for you is, you wanna learn to shoot arrows, or you wanna learn to shoot bullets? I only have one bow on me, and you're not gonna be able to shoot it well. [Or at all, given the pull weight behind it. Or even want to try, given the admittedly weird and gross alteration this place made to his primary weapon.] I can still teach you archery, just don't expect a roaring success.
no subject
[Her childhood was a lie. Go figure.
As she tucks her hands into her jacket pockets and follows along (backpack on shoulders, of course, because she's not about to go out without snacks), she considers his question sincerely. The answer she finds is a little embarrassing, but...]
I, uh. To be honest, I wasn't asking to shoot arrows for self-defense or anything like that.
I just thought it sounded — fun.
no subject
So if he's quiet for a beat too long, it's only because he just wasn't expecting that, somehow.]
I guess I was figuring that...I dunno, that after what happened, and hanging out with Frank, you were looking for something practical. [Is it verboten to bring Frank up right now? Unsure, but he's moving right along.] Don't get me wrong, I'm...glad. I'm glad you think it'd be fun. Not everyone grew up with hunting or had archery clubs at school or whatever.
[He thinks about bringing up Lila, about how he'd been teaching his own daughter before--before. Sets the thought aside. Doesn't shove it in a box and bury it under the floorboards, just sets it on a shelf to reach for later. Because it might be awkward to bring up, and he doesn't normally talk about the family with people who aren't already in the know. But it does make him feel a little warmer inside for it. Reminds him he's done this before, too.]
You know, I'm actually better with a bow than a gun? Don't get me wrong, I'm still the best shot around, but it doesn't feel as good or as natural.
no subject
My parents weren't exactly big on recreational family activities. I did try playing a flute in elementary school band once. That's about the level of club I participated in before I gave up two lessons into it.
[After a moment, the snark slides into something a little more sincere.]
It's cool. Guns are — well, they're kind of a dime a dozen.
It was cool to hold a shotgun, though. Felt like an action hero.
when you thought you hit post and discover days later you did not
[It's fine to not talk about Frank. That's the sensitive subject they're trying to avoid, so...no questions asked about him, got it. He opens the car door for her like a gentleman-dad-uncle before hopping into the driver's seat.]
You'll probably feel like a big game hunter with a bow. Ready to hunt some flux deer.
the eternal struggle!!!!
[If there were any better response to demonstrate how she ended up in Frank's care, that'd be one of them. Granted, one of the times she'd shot a shotgun, it had been at the head of someone who was hired to kill her and all of her friends. Maybe it was a good thing that she'd missed. She's still trying to figure out how much she should hate John Pilgrim or pity him. After all, he was the one who left her friends dead in a heap.
Life is so utterly messy, so effed up beyond reason.
She supposes in retrospect... it's her own fault, for being involved in the things she'd been involved in.]
I'll only shoot flux deer if they look straight out of a horror movie.
Bambi-shooter, I am not.
no subject
[That's mostly a joke. He's not sure he'd want to eat anything not already cooked and canned and bagged and sealed and whatnot from out there in any given crazy weird zone. And now that the train's running, there's more fresh goods from farmtown, so food isn't exactly at some kind of premium.]
So what is it you do? For a job. You got something that's keeping you afloat? You drive your car okay? [Is she safe, in the wake of the everything, does she need pointers, is she okay--he can't help but let the dad show through.]