17195/Accuracy, Inflection, and Volume

Accuracy, Inflection, and Volume
Date of Scene:	15 February 2024
Location:	Midtown
Synopsis:	Olivia turns potential bad luck into a remarkable meeting with one of her favorite heroes. She and Clint have a brief chat and plans are laid for a show and some good pizza in the future. Liv only badly embarrasses herself along the way!
Cast of Characters:	Olivia Gaudin, Clint Barton

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Olivia Gaudin has posed:
    It is a kind of sky that weathermen refer to as partly cloudy. Despite it being a Thursday night, Olivia has the night off. Whether she likes it or not. This means instead of green skin and black hair, she is decidely pale and blonde. She is, quite frankly, fretting at the entrance to the Gershwin. There is a reason for this, honest! She's not a weirdo.

    Well, she /is/ a weirdo. She's a broadway performer. But well, partially weirdo then.

    Around her, the foot traffic is as busy as ever. It's Broadway, people are heading every which way, and the streets are full. Inside, the curtain lifts and the first act begins. Olivia steps away from the building, but very suddenly, and right into the flow of people walking. One of whom might just walk right smack dab into her.

Clint Barton has posed:
The snowfall from the other night is beginning to turn that dreary grey, now that traffic has started up once again. It's never slowed to a standstill; after all, this IS the City that Never Sleeps.

Dressed in layers, from hoodie to wool-lined jean coat, Clint Barton is making his way on the sidewalk, with a brown paper bag tucked under an arm. The ever present scaffolding that seems to surround the buildings in the area means that the path can be a winding one, and as such, jostling when busy is absolutely a concern.

Just beyond, in the swirl of foot traffic, the usually distant New York travelers make contact with a little more force than perhaps intended, or simply cause that momentary disorientation.

Either way, it's the archer that takes the short distance in a couple of strides, holding out his free hand to rescue and support the younger woman, should she see it to reach out for steadying.

Olivia Gaudin has posed:
    Olivia is quite well jostled. She is not all the large in the frame, and while she is amazing on stage, she is not a powerful physical force. This means that she is set on a course to wind up on her bottom...

    ... or would be, if not for her hero. She takes hold of Clint's hand (for dear life) and manages to just barely keep her footing. This all leaves her rather breathless, of course. She ends up awkwardly close to him and has to step back rather quickly.

    "Thank you! I'm so sorry! How incredibly clutzy of me!" And that's when she sees his face. Something about it looks so very, very familiar. But the layers throw her off. For now. She is very, very good with names and faces, though, so it of course drives her crazy.

    "I'm Olivia Gaudin," she says, hopefully before that pause gets awkward. "Have we met before?"

Clint Barton has posed:
The hand that is grabbed is strong, sure, and serves as a pretty good anchor. He helps balance as well, making sure the 'damsel in distress' has a way of using the aid as leverage. Once back and solidly on her feet, Clint takes the step to the side to let the flow of pedestrian traffic move, though not without a yell at the backs of those unaware that any ill had been done.

"Hey, watch where you're goin'!" There's a beat before he turns back, blue eyes looking at the now rescued woman. "You okay? They didn't take anything, right?" It's the MO of pickpocketers everywhere.. bump, distract, rob.. and on their way. "Tell me now."

Shaking his head, Clint's demeanor is calm; that sort of tone of voice that could probably talk anyone off a cliff. "It's okay. You sure you're okay?"

Brows rise and he shakes his head slowly, "I think I'd remember, so..." and he lets the word draw out before, "Probably not?"

The bag is still tucked under his arm, and it's shifted slightly, moving from one side to the other. He'd rescued her with a left hand, but his right hand is now out. "Clint Barton. Pleasure."

Olivia Gaudin has posed:
    Clara needs a moment to get herself stable, and then she pats her coat down. She lets out a relieved sigh. "Nothing is missing. Thank goodness." She laughs at herself. "That was classically ditzy of me, though, really. And yes, I am okay. No turned ankle or anything. Thankfully I don't have to dance much in my current role, anyway."

    She nods as he answers and then he introduces himself. It is immediately obvious that Olivia knows who Clint Barton is. There's this moment where she freezes and he probably knows it is coming.

    "OH MY GOD YOU ARE...!"

    She takes his hand in both of hers, shaking with considerable enthusiasm. "You are /the/ Clint Barton, aren't you! That's why! I have your poster above my bed!"

    That... didn't even sound good in her head. She blushes and laughs. "That is to say, you know, on the wall, not.. oh dear..." She realizes she has been shakign his hand the whole time and lets go. "Sorry, oh god. Can I just kind of melt and slip down the storm drain now?"

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint is patient and waits as she pats herself down, taking stock of items or lack thereof. Once he's assured that all is well and that he doesn't have to make a side trip to beat someone up to get belongings back, he offers something of an awkward, self-conscious smile. He even looks from one side to the other to see if there are people that are staring at them at the moment.

He bobs his head, and chuckles softly, "Yes, yes ma'am, I am. And.." Poster above her bed? "That.. that's nice. Flattering." Clint's managing to take it in stride, though as she is bubbling over, a couple of people passing by do actually stop.

A young couple, trendy, phones in hand, and their attention is most firmly on Olivia. They peer momentarily and eyes widen. They'd heard the introduction from afar and a silent decision had been made between them. The Playbill is take out, and even though folded and most assuredly read from cover to cover, one speaks up, "Ms Gaudin. Can I have your autograph? We absolutely love you in Wicked. I'm glad you got the part and not Sutton Foster. You've got more range." A pen appears from seemingly nowhere, and thrust forward.

Clint is more than happy to step back.

Olivia Gaudin has posed:
Herlivia is not green right now, but her cheeks are pink. She's off her game to the point where the recognition from others makes her jump in surprise.

    "Oh, yes! Of course. It is my pleasure."

    She's so automatic about this kind of thing that her own silver sharpie is out before the pen is even registered there. She delivers the signature with practiced ease and smiles warmly. "Oh, thank you so much! I truly love the role. It's all I've ever dreamed of."

    She keeps an eye on Clint. She is not going to let him run off! Olivia shifts her focus back to the couple. A selfie is taken, as well. "Next time you see the show send a message back and I'll come out and say hello! Just tell the guys at coat check that you are there to inspect my hat. They'll know what it's about."

    She adds a playful wink and then lets them go about their way. Which means back to Clint. She's not so easily shaken.

    "So, now that my foot is on the ground and not in my mouth... what lucky errand has sent you here in time to rescue me from a nasty fall? I rather doubt I'm worth Avengers attention."

Clint Barton has posed:
Selfies with a Broadway actress! Nothing could be better! A curious glance is given to Clint, but it's obvious that there isn't a lot of recognition there. He's certainly no actor, nothing really special but some guy in a jean jacket, a hoodie, with a package under the arm. Probably beer...

Once they drift away, Clint's almost assured of an equally easy departure, but it's not to be. Not yet to the point of feeling like he's got to gnaw his arm off to get out of the bear trap, the Avenger is good natured enough to remain. "You're fine. Really. It's all good," he assures.

When the package is noted and referenced, brows rise and Clint looks at the bag as if noticing it for the first time. "This? Nothing. Just stopped by the sporting goods place for some new shafting. Nothing serious." For arrows. For the Avenger... archer. "I just happened to notice you getting pushed around a little." Hawkeye and his uncanny ability to plot trajectories. "Didn't want you to get hurt." There's a pause and he dips his head, his voice lowering, "You sure you're good? Can I escort you somewhere? Or just locked outside the stage door? I mean, I can go around and get them to let you back in if you need."

Olivia Gaudin has posed:
    Olivia laughs softly, "Arrows. Of course. That makes sense." She lets out a sigh and the silliness is allowed to fade. Hopefully. Still, she is curious and what are the odds, honestly? There is that calculus where she knows she is pushing it and yet she just wants to leave a better impression. Rather than look like she is right now.

    "I am okay. Oh, and I could get inside. It's just bad luck. I mean I think it is bad luck. You see my understudy is taking the reins over for the whole weekend. I never take that kind of time off. But I have this tradition where I watch her performances and give her feedback, but also this one time someone did that for me at the start of my first weekend with Moulin Rouge I ended up breaking a toe when one of the stagehands dropped a light on my foot. Doing Nini's role four times with a broken toe was not fun!"

    She grins, "And so, I vowed to never do that to my own understudy. Just in case the universe decided to make that into a thing it does in my life. Broadway is extremely superstitious."

    She laughs at herself. "But anyway, I get the feeling you probably are looking to escape from this weirdo performer and get back to your arrows. However... if not, I could try to offer you something in return. If you want some remarkable pizza."

Clint Barton has posed:
"Nope. Not arrows yet. Just sticks. I have to put the flet- the feathers on myself, after weighing and balancing them." Clint is absolutely an archery geek; ready and willing to jump in, and just as ready to jump out the moment he feels that he's either over-sharing or eyes are glazing over. This time?

Oversharing.

"I heard there are tons of superstitions. I mean, I only know the two biggies, but I'm sure there are more. I'm pretty superstitious myself. I know the moment I actually put the word 'quiet' out there, my life will be less than easy for the next 24 to 48 hours." There is a grin that rises soon after, "Mind, that could mean anything from bad guys to one of the others trying a new recipe and my having.. a bad reaction to it." Could never happen, right? Notice, not even name dropping!

Clint lifts his bag once again, sort of showing it off. "I'm going to have to take a raincheck. But, I might take you up on that offer you gave the others. Get a couple of tickets for a show, and I'll hold you to that pizza later?"

Olivia Gaudin has posed:
    "Of course, and that sounds fascinating, actually." Olivia always overshares. "Next time you can tell me all about it, Clint. Oh, and don't even think of paying. Go to the will call and give them your name. Or just show them an arrow. You'll have two tickets waiting for you. I can give you the tour after. Just not this weekend. Any other weekend!"

    She finds the quiet comment very amusing. "But you've gone and done it, now. Still, quiet is.. well, it is pretty amazing when it happens." She can explain that another time. She has no idea what quiet is like anymore.

    "So until next time. I am going to get myself back to my apartment before I cause more trouble for people! Thank you, though. I'm honored to meet you."

    Before she can mess anything else up, she will make her very best bow and with a wave, heads off down the street. She's very excited, of course, and there's a considerable bounce in her step. Out of earshot she will sing-song to herself, "You met HawkeyeWikiAdmin (talk)!" She doesn't care about the wierd looks she gets.