17191/Twice around the park, James!

Twice around the park, James!
Date of Scene:	15 February 2024
Location:	Central Park
Synopsis:	A snowy carriage ride around Central Park for Valentine's Day. Perfect!
Cast of Characters:	Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff

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Clint Barton has posed:
February 14th. That's the day set aside by 'the industry' in which one should gather the gumption, go out on that limb, and express feelings in a card or in a box of chocolate, or some high priced, hot-house flowers with very little scent. Restaurants are booked solid, the results of those month long ballroom dancing are realized, and that's not to mention how much jewelry passes hands!

Not to be outdone, or rather, not to be left behind and look like fool for getting 'on sale' Godiva chocolate and have it look like he'd forgotten/let time get away from him, Clinton Francis Barton actually did something //in advance//. Never know when one will want or need a last minute Valentine's Day present if things don't work out for him!

It's snowing... it's snowing hard in NYC for this auspicious day. The large, puffy snowflakes are coming down and quickly coating the cold sidewalks and streets, giving the City a cold, white sheet to cover all the grey, all the concrete and steel. It also gives the neon lights of the coming sunset something to shine and shimmer against, giving the streets an almost magical glow.

How Clint even began to be able to lure the object of his burgeoning affections, who knows. Could be charm, could be wit, could be the fact that he out and out lied and convinced Wanda that he needed her presence for some meeting or other. 'Just in case'. Thankfully, she's not a mindreader, though who really knows when it comes to Red? Hurry up, get ready, need to head out.. all plans are in motion, and once the front door of Avenger's Mansion is opened to the bundled up pair, what is on the driveway is a horse-drawn closed carriage. Two coursers are at the lead, the driver bundled up and seat at the top, whip settled in its holder in the side.

"Our ride is here!"

Behind Clint, there's a small picnic basket, closed and off to the side. Could have just gotten there, could have been there for weeks, put there by nearly anyone who shares the space. But! Clint picks it up, and offers an arm.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
February 14th. Dreadful day. At least for Wanda whose life has never been one where she could stop, sit and actually enjoy herself. Or at least not something like Valentine's day. Sure, she and Pietro weren't coy about celebrating when out on the road with the Roma but this felt different. Not on the road. Peaceful.

But then why did her heart beat so?

Thankfully enough Clint isn't the type for celebrating either. Needing her for some meetings? That's fair enough, and it can't be worse than having to watch the Superbowl football game on the weekend that's somehow played with their hands. Just call it eggball, darn it! Still, what had come after had been pleasant enough.

> You are worse than Pietro.

That's the message Clint gets when he's asking her to hurry up. But eventually she is ready to go. Pair of warm pants, boots. A jacket for the cold. And a beanie hat to keep that glorious crown of red hair protected. "So, you didn't tell me where we were...." pause as she steps out of the Mansion, blinking a couple of times. It doesn't take long for her to piece together what's going on.

Carriage. Picnic basket. "You tricked me." is what she tells him first, lifting her nose just so and then ..., wraps her hand under his arm.

Clint Barton has posed:
Ouch! How could an insult be any harsher than saying that he's worse than Pietro when encouraging her to 'hurry up'! He takes it in stride, the playful quip gaining a laugh with an audible, playful response of "Ow, that hurts!".

Watching her descend the stairs, all bundled up and ready to take on the snowy beyond, the laugh remains behind in the form of a smile. "I hate being late." It's her response when the door is opened and she actually takes in the tableau; the horses pawing the snow, the falling beauty of fluffy white flakes, and the dark carriage that makes everything worth while.

"I figured at least once a year, we travel in style." Style isn't a Quin? Or a helicarrier.. or even one of SHIELD's darkly colored sedans?

Nope.

"I did," Clint admits, the smile remaining, though there is a satisfied smirk that hide underneath it. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a secret from you?"

Stepping out into the weather, the snow clings to coats, hats; there and melted, as Clint leads his date.

"Your carriage awaits."

The door is opened, and the archer offers a hand to aid Wanda in getting in before he follows. It's a little warmer, at least away from the slight, ever present breeze. It is easy to see out, however; the windows are low enough that a view is unobstructed. Once in, and the door is closed, the carriage begins to move, and the muffled *clopclop* of horse hooves against the snow and stone of the driveway can be heard.

"Happy Valentine's Day?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"And you just sound so smug about it." Wanda's green eyes looking up at Clint sideways at that smug little smirk on his expression. Which makes her give him a hipbump for good measure. Yea, that will teach him! But it's a tame enough hip bump considering her arm is locked with his now. "It is?" she asks on the difficulty of keeping secrets from her.

As if she wasn't aware of her uncanny ability to ferret out secrets. From people and ..., things.

Free hand adjusts her beanie hat when they step out to the cold, "You know one thing that has surprised me since I came to live here in New York?" it's a rhetoric question, don't answer it! Because she does so after a beat, "How warm it feels even with all the snow falling." or maybe it's her that feels warm right now. Still, there's something to New York that Wanda is very much aware of. Maybe it's the people.

They both climb up into the carriage, settling down on their seats, next to one another. "Happy Valentine's day." she smiles back at him. Tentative at first but it does start to warm up.

The archer's disposition seems to be melting through her usual reticence about these things.

Clint Barton has posed:
There is a certain magic in walking to a carriage that is stopped and waiting, and when it's one that is hired, the stepping in feels like one is swept away into a different world, a different reality- in a good way. It's romantic without being over the top; the sharing of conversation and the views from without. The fact that Wanda seems happy about it?

Even better.

The hip check gains a barked laugh, and only serves to hold his arm a little closer to his side, bringing her hand into a little more body warmth against him. "This is the best time of snow for the City. Before everything gets grey and driven through. Maybe that's what it is? It's when everything seems to be quiet, if only for the time it takes until the snow stops."

As the carriage pulls away, then, the gentle rocking becomes a certain cadence. Almost empty city streets as traffic is almost completely shut down, the carriage seems to be unimpeded in its path to Central Park, and the paths within.

"Oh.." and Clint pulls the picnic basket out and fumbles with it. He may be quite dexterous with thrown weapons, but put a packed basket and nibbles within and he's a little more of a klutz. Could be the company too, though. "I packed some hot chocolate." A carafe is brandished, but not too widely; no spilling! "With marshmallows. Just so we keep a little warmer." Or, well.. body heat can do that too!

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"It can't rain all the time."

Wanda's way of saying that even in darkness there's always some light that shines through. Like a day like this. For a moment her expression turns morose, perhaps something from her past but it goes through quickly, the redhead witch taking in a breath that (hopefully) dispels past worries. Makes her focus on the present. And Clint.

The rocking is welcomed by Wanda. Peace. Eyes splitting their attention between watching the streets outside, and the bright white snow, along with what Clint apparently brought. Which is .., quite a lot.

"You did not have to bring the house with you." She comments gently, knowing the virtues of travelling light. But also travelling prepared. Too much time on the road. Not that they are on the road now, they can enjoy this, can't they? "Careful." her hand takes his when he's brandishing that carafe. Just in case. And also to actually touch his skin.

"Slower. Enjoy yourself." She tells him. Which is her way of saying he can relax. Or better, that he -should- relax. Maybe she is not the most nervous person in this ride after all!

Clint Barton has posed:
"Even the rain can bring flowers," Clint reminds. "I try to remember that when I'm wet and miserable on a stake-out." The last bit is added with a slightly rueful smile, but even those sorts of memories can't dull the late afternoon's festivities. He absolutely refuses.

It is true; it's more a nervous fumble than a fumble of inability to work the bits and bobs of the carafe, balancing the cups, and tossing the marshmallows in. That, well, he does in true expert's form. *plink* After all, the archer //never// misses his target, even when it looks like perhaps he has. There's always purpose to the shots he takes.

//You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.//

"Excuse me.. I absolutely had to bring everything." He leans in a little and offers a conspiratorial whisper, "Actually, I did leave the bow and arrows back at the house. I just brought the things we'd need in case we got stuck. You know.. hot chocolate, a couple of cupcakes, fruit. All in the name of survival."

Okay, why again is he perhaps a little nervous? Or is it just his heart beating a little quicker because he's there, she's there, and absolutely nothing is happening in this corner of their world that requires their attention. So.. that means, he has her undivided attention, and she, his.

"Right. Relaxing now."

Clint Barton has posed:
?"Even the rain can bring flowers," Clint reminds. "I try to remember that when I'm wet and miserable on a stake-out." The last bit is added with a slightly rueful smile, but even those sorts of memories can't dull the late afternoon's festivities. He absolutely refuses.

It is true; it's more a nervous fumble than a fumble of inability to work the bits and bobs of the carafe, balancing the cups, and tossing the marshmallows in. That, well, he does in true expert's form. *plink* After all, the archer //never// misses his target, even when it looks like perhaps he has. There's always purpose to the shots he takes.

//You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.//

"Excuse me.. I absolutely had to bring everything." He leans in a little and offers a conspiratorial whisper, "Actually, I did leave the bow and arrows back at the house. I just brought the things we'd need in case we got stuck. You know.. hot chocolate, a couple of cupcakes, fruit. All in the name of survival."

Okay, why again is he perhaps a little nervous? Or is it just his heart beating a little quicker because he's there, she's there, and absolutely nothing is happening in this corner of their world that requires their attention. So.. that means, he has her undivided attention, and she, his.

"Right. Relaxing now."

<<REPOSE>>

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Nervous fumbles can often be solved by teamwork which is exactly what Wanda does, helping with the carafe, then digging further into the basket. "Did you just say cupcakes?" uh-oh. Someone may need to be careful that they aren't eaten.

Or maybe it was the plan all along!

Deft fingertips born of years scavenging with the Roma already seek inside until... "Ah, here they are." she brings two of them out. One for each of course but then....

"Don't look now but there's something sticking out of my cupcake.." she tells Clint, looking at it more closely. Then her cheeks get a bit more red.

"Wait, is this a gift..?" So much for not getting nervous. But she's also relieved that it wasn't a Chiefs' hat.

Clint Barton has posed:
"I thought I had you at 'horse and carriage'," Clint jokes softly. "If that didn't cut it, I figured 'hot chocolate with marshmallows'. But, all along, you're a cupcake girl." He's more than happy for the aid so neither of them get burned. The steam off the prepared hot drink fills the small space with that luxurious scent of deep, dark chocolate with just that hint of sugar that is marshmallow.

As the cupcakes are lifted out, there's a quick grin that fades into a false, rather theatric complaint, "What did they do? What fell into the mix? I'm gonna have to complain to the manager about that." Reaching for the 'offending' cupcake, it's only a feint. Wanda can absolutely pull it away for closer inspection!

The pinkening of her cheeks is the give-away that she's figure out a gift when she sees it! Nothing too fancy, but it is absolutely a 'statement' piece. "Well, yeah.." He turns slightly, waiting for her to pull it away and get a closer look at it.

"When you take it out, I'd love it if you'd wear it. When you can, if you want to, that is.."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
There are things that Wanda won't dispute and being a cupcake girl is one of them. Still, Clint gets a lift of eyebrows his way at that. "Using your spy abilities on me, is it?" she grins at him before her attention goes back to the cupcakes, spotting that little bag sticking out and....

"Hey, keep your hands to yourself, mister." taking the cupcake away from larcenous fingers. A little bite off the top to reveal the baggy and then she takes it out. And while one hand holds the bag in her palm? The other eats the rest of the cupcake because no matter that there was something within it's still delicious! So she savors it before opening the little bag.

"Mmm, an arrow aimed right at my heart?" She asks, some of her surprise shifted to delight. "I will wear it." she assures Clint, hand sweeping over her mane of red hair to reveal her neck, turning her back a bit to him.

"If you put it on." No nervous fingers now, Clint!

Clint Barton has posed:
"Remember? My job is to sit and watch before taking the shot," Clint teases. "May take hours, days.." and in this case, years? And in the end? "Worth it." He watches as she divides her attention to the cupcake, the baggy, the frosting, the cupcake and the baggy, and ultimately the necklace within. The arrow and heart.

Her proclamation, that decision that didn't sound like it took too long to decide has him wearing a happy grin, nodding his head at the words. "I was hoping you'd say that." After all, the hours of agonizing over 1., a present, and 2., a present she'd like, and 3., a present that she'd wear.. of his. For anyone who knows him, they'd recognize the charm immediately, and its layered meanings.

//You miss 100% of the shots not taken.//

Once again, his arrows fly true, but this is probably the only time when he wasn't all that sure it'd hit its mark.

The cascade of red that spills from the hat is a wonder to behold. Absolutely lovely tresses, and as Wanda lifts her mane to present the back of her neck, he can't get that grin off his face. The necklace is taken, fingers fumble just a little over the chain and clasp. Finally, though, he reaches around to wind it in front of her, the clasp then in the back. Soon enough, it's fastened, and is let go to hang delicately. "Got it. The light is horrible in here."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The Witch keeps her neck bent at an angle. Slightly forward, hand holding her hair out of the way. Feeling those fingertips reach around her to delicately put in place. Is the fumble noticed? Maybe, but there's an amused expression on her face at it, specially as she has seen Clint hit targets in full darkness. Well, not seen it, but was able to check it after /when/ there was light!

"It's lovely." She finally says, bringing it up on her palm now that it's in place around her neck, watching the silvery contours of the piece, "How long have you been waiting to gift me this?"

Yes, she knows Clint's a sniper. She imagines a good while now.

Not that she waits for an answer out of him, leaning forward to both brush fingers over his cheek and to place a kiss on his lips, head tilting to the side as the carriage continues on, rocking them into a cadence.