17277/When Brooklyn is preferable

When Brooklyn is preferable
Date of Scene:	25 February 2024
Location:	5C - Clint Barton's Loft
Synopsis:	Getting Wanda away from the Mansion, even for a little while, is a good thing. She agrees to stay with him at his place for a little bit, until she's ready.
Cast of Characters:	Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff

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Clint Barton has posed:
Nothing like having guests over to what is undoubtedly Clint's 'bachelor pad'. It screams 'there has been absolutely no woman's touch here', what with the holes in the walls undoubtedly left by arrows, the empty pizza boxes piled up near the front door, waiting to be taken out for recycling. A lone coffee mug with perhaps years worth of 'seasoning' is beside the kitchen sink. The coffee pot burbles happily, offering a scent that is probably masking others.

Clint is sitting down on the couch, his arrow-making equipment in front of him on the coffee table. There's the spine tester, the scales for weighing both the shafting and the piles.. and a box of purple feathers on the side with a fletching jig. The television is on, the picture grainy as he doesn't pay for cable. He's got an old antenna, complete with aluminum foil for better reception.

After all, he is almost never home anyway.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"Charming."

That had been Wanda's single word of praise(?) at the sight of Clint's 'pad'. It was at least better than the 'silent treatment' that he had gotten during the whole trip. Not that he had done anything wrong but Wanda simply didn't seem herself. Absent emerald gaze with bouts of irritability if prodded too much to talk. Restless. But at least she hadn't said no about spending a while chez Barton.

She is sitting at the couch with Clint, lounging somewhat so as to not put strain on the shoulder where that rune-imprinted bullet grazed her. Nothing serious but it still hurt from time to time. "We should go out to look for the thief." she finally says of her own accord, "You have your connections on SHIELD still, don't you?"

Maybe she accepting to come spend some time at Clint's place wasn't simply to recover but to hunt. So little patience on the Witch. Unusual.

Clint Barton has posed:
There is also that guilt that Clint hadn't 'been there' for her. Unrest in the rest of the world is gaining traction, and the Avenger's time is being spent on missions as 'Field Agent'. There are more than a few locations that he can divulge, but more that he can't. And what he was doing there, to whom.

How does one make it up to a witch with a growing obsession to go hunting?

The PLAN was to get her away from the scene of the crime, to put some distance in, but...

The coffee pot finishes its song, now in the stage of 'burner plate'.

"Connections?" He looks to the side, brows rising, and there mixed is concerned and humor. "I.. yes. Where ever you need." Clint rises for that coffee immediately after, "Don't you thin we should wait to see if Stark's stuff is able to track and maybe pinpoint locations? Maybe see if there's a trail before and after?

"Coffee?" It's an offer.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
There had been no blame being put on Clint for what had happened. Not verbally or otherwise. In fact she had been turned inward about the whole matter. As if the blame was solely on that thief.

Not on Clint.

Not on Wanda. Specially not on Wanda.

She knows Clint *will* blame himself though in a way. It's just the way it is, wanting to be present, a desire to protect those he cares for. She has known him enough to be aware of it. One of the many reasons she loved him. Yet she can't help but lean on that guilt, taking advantage of it, smiling faintly when Clint says he will do what is needed to recover what was stolen. "Who knows when Stark will have the results? I know SHIELD has been attacked too. Maybe there's a connection there." she watches Clint get up.

"Yes. Coffee." This said after a few moments, "They stole from me, Clint. They attacked -our- home. Where we were supposed to be safe." hints of anger felt in her voice, "I won't let this be."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint gets up slowly and rolls his shoulders in an attempt to get rid of some of the stress he's feeling. Coffee will absolutely help, though. And, yes. He wasn't there; would things have been any different if he was? Maybe they wouldn't have gained entrance with another body?

Who's he kidding, though. Powerhouses like Clea, Cap, Stark and Wanda couldn't defend a house, no, a mansion guarded by an AI. What difference would he have made?

Doesn't help assuage the guilt, though.

He crosses the room, the clink of a clean mug pulled from his cabinet can be heard, followed by the pouring of the dark elixir of the gods. "Nowhere is safe." It's a sad fact of life, and one that he's come to terms with. "It's just mitigation. But," he doesn't want to sound too morose, too depressing, and padding back out with two cups in hand, he hands one over.

"Stark is usually pretty quick. But, we can head over to the Tris and see if we can't get one of the eggheads to track. We've got PD feeds, Interpol, contacts for underworld auctions, chatter. Hell," *sip* "I might still have a few people who will talk to me."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"I promised Pietro."

Wanda is on her feet now, the pain on her shoulder forgotten. Jaw clenches, emerald gaze turning down to her wrist, thumb brushing over a leather bracelet tied around it, "I would find us a safe place, where we couldn't be harmed anymore. He deserves it after all the..." she trails off after a few moments.

"You wouldn't get it." Which even with her growing anger it's something she regrets saying almost immediately. What is her anger about though? First she mentioned being stolen, now she talks of Pietro. But she has yet to talk about what was stolen.

She takes the cup with both hands when Clint returns to offer it, both hands taking clasping around it, "I am sorry." she says, gaze back up on Clint, a glimpse of the gentle Wanda of before visible there. How long will that last? "I can't help but feel angry and I .., don't want to be." she exhales, "You don't deserve my anger."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint hears, and more, he listens to her words, to everything beneath it; the anger, the distress, the sadness. He's by her side immediately, his head ducking and his brows rising as he tries to meet those flashing green eyes. "Look at me. You're not alone anymore. You have people, he has people. Hell, he might even be in the middle of starting a family of his own. It'll be okay. He'll be okay, you'll be okay." As for 'safe', well... even he's not safe. Not truly. Not in his line of work. It's only mitigated danger.

"I do get it. My big brother used to tell me the same thing." He has a big brother? "You're. Not. Alone, okay?"

With that message hopefully getting through, at least on the surface, Clint is able to keep going. In the face of the apology, he nods his acceptance. "Now, with all my promises of possible resources, I didn't ask.. what was taken? Was it only your stuff?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The temptation to just look away is big. Wanda is used to being looked sideways after all. It's been like that all her life, her heritage, then her magic making it so she was looking over her shoulder. Never safe. Still, she looks up at Clint's own gaze when he seeks hers, drawn to them. Like moth to flame. There is the faintest relaxing of shoulders. Not fully. But it's something at least.

The message seems to have gotten through. For now at least.

"You have a brother?" She wasn't aware of this, "You never told me of him." an open invitation for him to share if he so wishes. She takes a drink from her coffee and remains close, forehead touching Clint's shoulder a moment, her own way of saying thanks.

The last question has her look up at him. "I ..." a beat, "I am not sure." she seems surprised at that, as if she hadn't even given it a thought. "It's important though. Part of..." her frown deepens as if she was trying to remember but can't bring up the name for some reason. It's just at the tip of her tongue though.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint's already silently promised that he'd keep her safe; something that he takes very, very seriously. He's always been a supporter for the underdog, but nothing ever truly prepared him for his own feelings for her. Back and forth, on again, off again, on again. Second time the charm? Third?

Like a moth to the flame.

As he sees the tension leaving her shoulders, at least a little bit, he reaches for her bring her into a protective embrace with a single arm as she leans against him. "Yes, and one day I'll tell you about him." One day.

"Well," Clint begins again, his head shifting so he can kiss the top of her head, "We should probably go look. You and me. Just tell me when. Until then?" He offers a quick grin and looks around his apartment, "If you can stand it, you can stay here."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Clint doesn't press about whatever it is that was stolen and for some reason Wanda seems relieved. It's not like it looks like she was lying about it though, maybe it's simply she not -wanting- to think about it too much. She relaxes further at the kiss on top of her head and exhales again, resting her front against Clint's. Head to his shoulder.

"One day?" This about the brother. It's clear sooner or later he will have to speak about the mysterious older brother. Pressure!

Staying is a prospect that has her curl her head to the side, eyeing the entrance where those pizza boxes are piled on, "I can stand it." she had lived in the streets after all.

"But this place needs some of my touch." Oh dear.