15418/A Day Off

A Day Off
Date of Scene:	20 July 2023
Location:	Carl Shurz Park/Bailey's Corner Bar
Synopsis:	Clint teaches Clea how to swindle people and get money for ice cream. This won't be bad AT ALL.
Cast of Characters:	Clint Barton, Clea

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Clint Barton has posed:
    It had been a few days. Clint had disappeared on that mission he'd been talking about but returned unharmed. SHIELD business he never really talked about much. It was all very hush. His undercover days might be over, anyone with a brain would likely recognize him. However, he didn't have the outstanding powers most of the rest of the other team had. Him and Nat, just two very skilled people with extra-ordinary but still very human abilities. So his fan base was niche. And by neich one could estimate it being small.

    First business when back, take the white haired sourceress out to lunch. Gilberts. Corner Deli three blocks east of the mansion. Just within walking distance of the park. A nice stroll through the green. He needed it after suffering the desert of Arizona. He ordered a Turkey on Rye and was avidly munching on a triangle of it as they strolled. "I miss anything while I was gone again?" He asked his walking partner.

    They were heading back west after moving along the east shore walkway.

Clea has posed:
Clea hadn't asked any questions. While she was an Avenger, she wasn't sure how much 'clearance' that gave her to ask about SHIELD things. That and she wasn't sure if she'd get chained to a desk if she asked to join SHIELD. So she'd be staying a sorcerous freelancer. She'd been up and ready for lunch. Dressed in light washed jeans skinny jeans, little black boots and a cropped black t-shirt. Not that she feels the weather that much. She didn't want to stand out too much.

"No, I don't think you did. Mostly just trying to get some things settled for an apartment." she admits to that. She'd gotten chicken and swiss. Because it was new to her. "How did mission go?" she asks him as they walk.

Clint Barton has posed:
    "Yeah the rooms at the mansion can get stuffy." Clint offers, knowing this because he's hardly personalized his at all. The Mansion wasn't meant to live out of anyways. "I'm from the heartland, you know? I'm not much of a city guy. I like it, but I want a house out there somewhere... far away." He glances to Clea, "Where have you been looking to live, what neighborhood?"

    He shrugs, taking another bite. "Mission went as missions do. A few close calls but we got the job done in the end and got people home safe."

Clea has posed:
"They can get a little stuffy and I've never really had my own place. I've always been locked up in some room or shared building and well...it might be nice to have something to call my own." Clea tells him with a smile. "What's the heartland?" she asks him. She didn't know what it was. Or hadn't heard the nickname before.

"I was keeping close to New York City. Some people are telling me I should get a penthouse or something like that. What area do you suggest?" she asks him.

"I'm glad you all came back in one piece." she admits.

Clint Barton has posed:
    "It's what we call the middle of the States. Iowa more specifically. Lots and lots of open space and farm land." Clint tells her. "Never had a place of your own? Then yeah, you should get one. Penthouse, rich people usually get those but they have the added bonus of being away from the rabble. I personally might get something a bit more mid-range. Less obvious for a well known individual." Then again Hawkeye could probably get away with not being noticed by a lot of people. Clea may not have that luxury.

    Clint finishes his sandwhich as she says she is glad he came back in one piece. "And miss hanging out with you? Not a chance." A charming smile.

    They arrive at the entrance/exit of the park across from E 85th Street. "Oh I know this place a couple blocks down. Want to get a couple drinks and play some darts? I think they have a pinball machine too."

Clea has posed:
"Don't think I've been there. Or if I have I don't remember much of it." Clea tells him as she finishes up her sandwich and washes it down with a sip of her soda. She gives a bit of a smile to him, "Yeah, they were suggesting that I might have an easier time if it's something secure. I'm guessing I'm not ever going to be able to fully shake living in a cage." she shrugs to that.

"Oh I'm not that fun." she chuckles to him.

Then there's a nod to that, "Sure. I don't think I've been there and if anyone starts anything I'll just put them through a wall." she states with a beaming smile. "Or wait, our PR team would murder me." she frowns to that. "We'll tell them to mind their business if people get nosy." she nods to this.

Clint Barton has posed:
    "You're not missing much." Clint says in responce to Iowa. "Wait... a cage." Clint asks. She might have mentioned something before but if she did, he doesn't remember it and he'd have remembered something like that. Or he got blown up too much... or his hearing aids weren't working right again.

    "Eh I'm not that fun either, so we can be equally boring together." He offers with a smirk.

    "This is New York, I think they'd understand someone going through a wall if they wanted to start something. Happens all the time." He's kidding of course but it's fun to play along. "Or we can swindle them in a rigged game of darts." He offers as they start across the street and down E 85th. "You ever play darts before?"

Clea has posed:
"It's...a long story." Clea tells him. She didn't really talk about her past a lot. "But it's getting better. I think I'd just like to have some space of my own and can have people over when I like. Or if I get lonely I can call someone." she shrugs. "I'm fine with boring, I really am." she muses to that.

"Well, we have to pay for someones wall and I get a 'reign it in' talk...so I'd rather not ruin the night." she admits. "Rigged game?" she asks him. "And no, I've not played darts?" she tells him.

Clint Barton has posed:
    "I understand." Clint said, and his response was very warm and genuine. "If you ever want to talk about it you know you can come talk to me." His hand reaches for hers and gives it a gentle squeeze, "And I better get an invite to your place." He had to lighten the mood somehow.

    He laughs at her response to them theoretically throwing someone through a wall. "You're over thinking it. Come on, I'll show you." He left the question about a rigged game unanswered.

    Clint held the door for her as they arrived at Bailey's Corner Pub, a real neighborhood bar. A dive, a hole in the wall. It was kind of busy for a Friday night but not enough that Clint could weasel his, Clea's hand still in his as he guided her to the bar top, and order them some drinks. "I'll have a whiskey neat." He looks to Clea, "Get whatever you want."

    Of course there's people who look their way but they're dressed normal enough a good many pay no mind. The pinball machine makes its silly noises and a couple play darts towards the back.

Clea has posed:
"I'll remember that, Clint." Clea tells him with a softer smile. "And sure, I'll invite most of the Avenger's for an apartment warming...or whatever they call those things." she admits. "I overthink a lot of things." she points out to him. And she did. It was just her nature.

She doesn't mind him taking her hand to lead her through to the bar top to sit down, "I don't really get drunk sadly." she tells him. "Just a coke." she looks to the bartender. Then back to Clint, "Think we're going to get made before long?" she asks him in a whisper.

Clint Barton has posed:
    "You don't get drink as in your don't drink or don't get drunk as in you're too powerful and you literally can't get drunk?" Clint asks, imagining that that's probably how Thor's body operates at the very least.
    Clint looks around, taking a moment to scout out the place just as their drink arrive. A Coke and a whiskey for him. "Probably." He says taking a drink, "But they don't seem to be bothering us right now." He notices the pair playing darts finished, leaving the said darts in the board. "Come on, we'll get a game in before the jig is up." A wink as he hops down off the chair and leads her towards the darts board. He pulls the six darts from the wall and brings them over. "You gotta score more points than the other person. See the numbers. Land it there and that's how many points you get. Like this." He lets one go. It's fast and slams hard against the board... right in the middle.
    

Clea has posed:
"I don't get drunk, no. It's sort of like others. We just...don't get drunk. Like I can taste alcohol but don't suffer the effects." Clea tells him sheepishly. "Which sucks, especially when some poor guy is trying to get me drunk." she chuckles to that.

She then wanders over towards the dart board area with him and sips her soda while he explains to her what the game is. Then she watches as he scores a hit right in the middle, "You have an advantage that others do not." she muses quietly. "Alright...let me try it." she states as she takes a dart from him. She focuses on the dart board and then tries to throw it...but it goes askew and ends up in the wall, "Well...that was bad." she laughs.

Clint Barton has posed:
    "Well I'm not trying to get you drunk." Clint offers, "Just maybe loosen up a bit. Have some fun you know. Booze helps a little sometimes."

    As she comments on his advantage, "Rigged Game..." He finally answers with a wink. "Years in the circus, all that practice. My above average vision. Yeah, I've got a leg up on most folks. But..." He pauses, stepping back a moment to watch her toss the dart into the wall. "Wow... okay. I did not expect that." He steps back closer to her. "Here watch me. Watch the form." He throws his next one, it lands not quite in the center but a little bit away. Still much better than her last.

    As it comes to her turn, he moves around to be behind her, his hands going to adjust her stance and how her arm holds the dart. "Listen to your heart... feel the beats... take a deep breath.... let it out slowly... now between the beats, throw."

Clea has posed:
"That's because you're a good guy and a gentleman, Clint." Clea points out as she settles her drink down. She's made a good effort of not floating everywhere today. Her feet would tell her about it later for sure. "Ah, so it is a ruse." she chuckles at that. "I suspect it was a good way to make money though." she admits to that. "Wait, you didn't literally run away and join the circus, right? I hear that expression sometimes." she tells him. She looked concerned at that.

She looks sheepish when the dart embeds into the wood. Though his instructing is welcomed, "I think you're a better teacher than I am on these things." she tells him as she listens to him. She takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly and then lets the dart go.

It at least hits the board this time, but no where near his. "Oh hey, it's improvement!" she cheers.

Clint Barton has posed:
    Clint laughs, "I am certainly not a gentleman." A slight bit of protest but perhaps he's humbled by her compliment. "It was an old trick, back in my less savory days." When she asks if he literally ran away to the circus he looks down with a laugh. "I actually did run away to the circus. My brother and I ran away from the Orphanage we were kept after our parents died and joined the circus." He shrugs, "So in my case the expression fits. I think it's probably become a cultural trope or something."

    As she hits the board this time, Clint smiles and squeezes her arms. "There you go. You got one more..." Clint moves forward, lines up his shot and throws it, landing it either purposefully or by bad luck in the outer ring. "Oh would you look at that..." He winks to her, watching for her last throw.

Clea has posed:
"Oh well then. Lets swindle someone out of a few bucks and we can get ice cream on the way back to the mansion." Clea states with a bit of an excited way. Crime was fun! "You will have to tell me about these old Clint Barton days." she points out with a gentle smile. But she deflates when he tells her he was an orphan. "I'm sorry, Clint." she tells him. "I didn't mean to...you know...make light of things." she adds.

Then she gives him a playful pout, "Rigged." she muses to him. He was going to let her beat him. She takes a step up and then aims...and fires!

She doesn't quite make the center, but she does a LOT better than she did the first time.

Clint Barton has posed:
    "Don't worry about it, made peace with all that a long time ago." There's a pauses as he looks left, then right, then left. "You really want to?" He asks, implying sure, he might be good to get in a little petty trouble such as swindling that young couple who was just on the darts before them out of a five dollar bill for ice cream. "Because that sounds perfect." He watches her toss the dart and land in a good spot. "See there you go. You're a natural." He steps a bit closer and whispers something in her ear.

    He then puts his arms around her shoulders and pulls her in a bit close. "Ready?" He asks, but doesn't wait. Walking over and accidentally spilling a little bit of his drink on the couple they were targeting. "Oh so sorry... so sorry."

    It might take a bit of charm, but it wasn't Clints first rodeo. And so they made the bet after making friends with the couple and won that ice cream money.