28/If It Makes You Happy

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If It Makes You Happy
Date of Scene: 19 February 2020
Location: Wanda's Room
Synopsis: Clint hears some of Wanda and Pietro's past, and shares some of his own history he has with other Avengers
Cast of Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The second floor of the Avenger's Mansion has many of the private rooms along two different stretches of hallway. Sometimes the doors are open, other times closed. It often depends on the individual, sometimes on their mood.

On this particular day, Wanda Maximoff's door has been left partway open. She probably forgot that fact, as she doesn't often leave her door open when she picks up her guitar. But today she did. The sounds of strummed acoustic guitar can be heard, though softly, in the hall. And soon, the sound of singing to accompany it.

    I belong, a long way from here
    I put on a poncho and played for mosquitoes
    And drank 'till I was thirsty again
    We went searching, through thrift store jungles.
    Found Geronimo's rifle, Marilyn's shampoo
    And Benny Goodman's cursive pen
    Well, okay, I made this up
    I promise you I'd never give up.

    If it makes you happy
    It can't be that bad
    If it makes you happy
    Then why the hell are you so sad?.


Sheryl Crow has nothing to fear of Wanda's version overtaking her own in popularity. But it's not badly done either. Wanda sits on her couch playing, back to the door and her eyes closed a she plays and sings.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint's dressed in jeans and a t-shirt as he treks his way into the living quarters of the mansion, his SHIELD bag, slung over one shoulder the orange and grey lanyard with the SHIELD eagle done in reflective material hanging from around his neck. He'd been off at his other job and was just getting home through the New York traffic from Westchester. He takes a couple of booted steps along the hallway's plush carpet before the music stops him in his tracks, similing.

He lingers a moment drinking in the familiar song accented by Wanda's voice, before he makes his way over to the door to listen more closely, leaning against the door frame and fully visible through the partially open door.

He doesn't announce himself, he just watches and listens for now.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda is losing herself in the song as people sometimes do when they play and sing. It may add a little something to the performance. Feeling a connection to the song perhaps. One that imbues with it a certain amount of emotion that the amateur singer might not be able to muster into it otherwise.

    Get down, real low down
    You listen to Coltrane, derail your own train
    Well, who hasn't been there before?

    I come 'round, around the hard way
    Bring you comics in bed
    Scrape the mold off the bread
    And serve you french toast again
    Okay, I still get stoned
    I'm not the kind of girl you'd take home...

Her fingers strum over the guitar, the wooden guitar resonating with each note. The open space of Wanda's room lets the music fill the area. Not a normal floor plan, Wanda had all the walls removed when she moved in, except for those around the bathroom. She doesn't seem to realize she's picked up an audience as she continues singing.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint doesnt think he's seen Wanda's room before, but now that he has, he wished he thought of that open floorplan idea, but then, he never really had a place that was his before so that sort of thing never occured to him. Beyond all that though, it did wonders for the acoustics.

Seeing Wanda's losing herself in the song, and knowing how that felt when he was shooting he doesn't dare speak up or clear his throat, he just leans and listens letting the song come to a conclusion naturally. He'll probably catch hell for eavesdropping but right now? Totally worth it.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Eventually she gets around to the end of the song, the chorus repeated twice. The last line of lyrics, she lets hang, the guitar trailing off quietly.

    If it makes you happy
    Then why the hell are you so sad?

The room falls quiet and Wanda shifts the guitar, letting it rest across her lap. She's wearing a pair of light colored shorts and then a sweater with long sleeves, as if to have that make up for the bare legs. The February day outside is grey and bleary and cold. A fire going in the fireplace nearby to the couch also seems intended to help offset that view out the myriad of windows and the door to the balcony outside.

Wanda reaches over to the coffee table, picking up a wine glass that's less than half full. She's straightening again when she finally takes note of someone at the doorway. Her green eyes cast their gaze over towards him, and hints of color touch her cheeks. "Clint Barton," she says in a voice of gentle exasperation. "Tell me you were not standing there for very long?" she asks him, though her expression suggesting she already suspects the true answer.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint grins when he's caught and Wanda asks her question, "Dunno," he anwsers. "Does that song start with ' I belong, a long way from here'?" He knows that it does. "If so, yes." He finishes still grinning.

"Anyhow, if it makes you feel better you can blast me into next week, but let me get my lighter first, that performance totally needs a call for an encore," he says lightly. "Seriously, you were good," he nods at her slightly pinkening cheeks. "You've got nothing to be embarassed about."

He glances at the half-open door, a wordless request to enter.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda Maximoff's hand moves to cover her face for a moment as Clint quotes the start of the song. She lets out a good-natured sigh though as she removes it to look back over to him. "Thank you," she says graciously with a nod of her head for his compliment. And while the blush is still there, she enjoyed receiving the compliment, from her expression.

"Come in," she tells him. "But only if you get yourself a glass of wine to join me, so I don't feel any more self-conscious than I already do," she says in her slow, soft-spoken English. The bottle of red wine is over on the coffee table by her, but she motions towards the kitchen where glasses are hanging from a rack where they can easily be seen.

Wanda eyes Clint's bag. "So you look like you've been doing... secret... things," she says, getting all hush hush and mysterious for the last few words, eyebrows raising expectantly. "I trust the world is not about to end just yet?"

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint laughs at the sigh. "Like I said, you're welcome to blast me into next week," he offers good naturedly.

When invited he steps into the room, letting the door swing back to it's partially open state. "Seems fair," he says of the conditions of entry, leaving his bag by the door. "What are we drinking?" he asks taking a look at the bottle as he pours himself a glass. It may as well be written in Greek for as much as Clint knows wines, there's red, there's white, there's champagne, oh and ice wine, and that's about the limit of his knowledge, regardless he pours himself a healthy portion and casts about for a place to sit.

Glancing at the bag when she does, "Nothing too secret," Clint says. "Just another day at the office." Of course that was all a lie, but it was a work-lie, he learned that those don't count, but guys from 1947 and space showing up in R&D was hardly 'another day in the office' and how that guy got there was definitely a secret. Though secret agent or not some of that might show in Clint's expression as he takes his first sip of wine.

"Not bad," he says, as he lowers his glass. "Random question though, think the world's getting weirder?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda smiles as Clint comes in and goes to get the glass. "No, you're not the type to blast. Tony maybe," she says, giving a cute little nose wrinkle though a smile that tells the jets of her comment. She scoots over a bit to make more room for Clint on the couch, and sets the guitar aside to lean against the end of the furniture as she turns back to him and his question about the wine.

"It is... ah... that is a good question," Wanda replies. "JARVIS?"

JARVIS's mellifluous voice answers the query. "It is a 1965 Château Lafite Cabernet-Merlot, Wanda." The answer brings a smile from Wanda. "Thank you, JARVIS," she says, looking to Clint and smiling as the answer is provided. "I let him pick them out for me. We're working slowly through Tony's wine cellar," she confides to Clint.

She offers her glass towards Clint while he has the bottle to add a little more for her. "Is the world getting weirder? It's definitely changing," she says slowly. "Is there something in mind making you wonder? Or, truly a random question?" she asks.

Clint Barton has posed:
"Definitely, Tony," Clint agrees with a sage nod. "He's very blastable."

A moment of surprise registers as she offers him a seat ont he couch but he doesn't complain and takes a seat, pulling up a leg so he can turn and face Wanda. He grins when she has to ask JARVIS about the wine. "Well uncle moneybags can afford it," Clint grins of Tony drinking deeper of the wine. "And this is some really good wine, probably costs as much as a small car."

He laughs. "Long way from wagons and circuses, huh?" he says with a glance at the wine and by extention their surroundings.

When prompted he pours, considering his answer, "Say when," he says before getting into it, "Okay, full disclosure today wasn't another day at the office, but I can't get into the details, just safe to say it was weird in the way that's kind of becoming normal right now, and it left me thinking is the world getting weirder or am I just in a place where the weird happens more. Because, back when all I did was SHIELD, most of what I dealt with was Hydra, random terrorists, the odd hammer falling from the sky. Now the weird seems daily. Y'know what I mean?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda stops him at a decently modest amount of wine, only around half-full. "Thank you," she tells him as she takes a sip. It truly is a remarkable wine. It's the kind of wine that people who don't like wine, would try, and then suddenly understand why wine aficionados feel as they do.

Wanda clearly appreciates it, letting out a small sigh after the taste. "A very... very long way," she agrees matter of factly as she looks at the glass for a moment, before returning her attention to Clint.

The Transian woman turns sideways on the couch, one leg drawn up and bent at the knee to leave Clint with room. "It does seem the last dozen years at least have been... eventful?" Wanda says, her tone suggesting she knows the word she suggests is probably an understatement. "I'm glad that we have you there. At SHIELD I mean. Someone we trust. You and Steve and Natasha," she tells him. "They do a lot of good. But their way of seeing the world... I do not think, I always agree with," she says in her soft, Eastern European accent.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint is definitely one of those people who don't like wine, but right now he was definitely coming to better understand the people he did. Finishing pouring he sets aside the bottle and has another sip from his own glass.

He too takes a moment to appreciate the gulf between this moment and their respective pasts.

"Glad it's not just me that's noticing it... or maybe glad's not the word, but releived that I wasn't totally blind to this stuff happening before now..." he shakes his head. "Now I'm rambling," he admonishes himself lightly, before being caught off-guard by the compliment. "Thanks, I think we all do our best to try to blunt some of SHIELD's more paranoid instincts, but truth be told there's a lot of good people there, even if what they have to do sometimes," he takes a breath. "If what /we/" meaning Nat, Steve, and himself. "Have to do sometimes isn't always what we'd want."

He takes another sip. "I definitely like being an Avenger better, my vision's clearer here, the work's cleaner too."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda gets up from the couch, setting the wine glass back down on the coffee table. "I agree, there are a lot of good people, from what I've seen," she agrees with Clint as she moves around the coffee table on bare feet, and over to the fireplace.

There is a small stack of split firewood sitting nearby for feeding the fire. A real wood fire then. She picks up one of the logs and motions towards it. "Split it myself. With an axe. No magic," she tells him with a bit of a proud smile. Wanda adds the log to the fireplace, and takes up a poker to adjust the burning logs around a little bit.

"I've always found fires to be comforting. We spent a lot of time roughing it. Pietro and I, that is. When we were younger," Wanda says. She closes the metal mesh over the front of the fireplace again, but stands there in front of it, arms about herself soaking in the warmth for the moment rather than rejoining Clint on the couch yet.

Wanda stands there for a few long moments, eyes on the fire. Finally she turns back towards Clint. "I think I owed you a little more story. From breakfast?" she asks. She moves back around to rejoin him finally then.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint nods, "Definitely got their hearts in the right place, even Fury," he agrees. "Though I am sure I'm violating the several regulations by revealing the classified information that Fury has a heart," he jokes wryly before pausing to watch Wanda pad her way to the fire.

That proud smile gets a warm chuckle out of Clint, "Bullshit," he protests. "I'm going to need to see you do that sometime before I believe it," he teases, mischief in his eyes.

As for fires, Clint nods, "Yeah, they're calming in a way, didn't have too many of them even on the road, but when we did, I could stare at them for hours and just go away for a bit."

There's a nod about the story. "I wouldn't say owed, but if you want to tell me more, I'm willing to listen," he tells her as she moves back to the couch.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda Maximoff puts her hands on her hips as Clint gives that laughing doubt of her ability to split firewood. She waggles a finger at him and narrows her eyes slightly. "I might have to reconsider the list for blasting," she tells him in her softly accented English.

Wanda draws both feet up, arms going around her bare legs as she looks back over at the fire and nods. "They are never quite the same twice. You can just keep watching the flames and it is always a little different. Like providing warmth was not enough. The flames wanted to give us entertainment, too," she says.

She finally pulls her eyes away from the fireplace, green-hued gaze focusing back on Clint. "So," she says, giving a pregnant pause after the word, a hand moving to work her fingers through her loose fall of hair in a bit of a ruffle. "We mostly moved about. The wagon. There was a... an RV. Van. Thing. I don't know what it was called. And we had a house for one winter. Very drafty. We crammed so many blankets and shirts and things into cracks trying to plug them," she says, her eyes drifting away for a moment as she looks into her memory.

Wanda pauses a moment with those thoughts before looking back to Clint and resuming. "Papa carved dolls. He was very good. But people wouldn't let us stay long. And we were struggling. And, he sometimes turned to, less honorable ways of keeping us fed. And Pietro took after him in that," she says slowly.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint is still grinning even as Wanda puts her hands on her hips. "Fair," he allows of being added to the blasting list. He doesn't seem to mind.

"I like the way you look at things," he says as she personifies the fire in generous terms. "Never really thought of it like that," he says. "Except about it always changing, that I did see, always wondered if you watched long enough if you'd see the same shapes twice. Never happened."

He glances back at Wanda as she turns her eyes on him, nodding as she tells her story head ducking as he has another quick sip of wine.

The thought of asking if she still had any of her father's dolls came to mind, but he doesn't give it voice, content to listen and prompt for now to make the telling easier.

"That happens. Better a few things go missing then people starve," he prompts assuming she meant theft.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda gives a slow nod of her head toward Clint at his final statement. "As it turns out?" she says to him while reaching over to retrieve her own wine glass from where it sits on the coffee table, "The villagers? The did not see it that way." Wanda's tone of voice gives foreshadowing of what comes next in the tale.

"So one town, Pietro stole some things. And I had a... an altercation with a boy," she says, looking down at her wine glass. "I pushed him away. With my power. It was the first time I was aware of it. He fell into a river. And I..." Wanda says, pausing as she moves her fingers in a slow, particular way. An aura of red gathers around them, and a magazine on the coffee table is drawn to her hand. "I pulled him from the water. Well. The townspeople just heard from him that I'd knocked him in."

Wanda pauses to take a sip of her wine. Her eyes become a little vacant, as does her voice. Just staring ahead of her, off to the side of Clint. "They came that night. We were just lying down to bed. Pappa went out, and some of the others camping with us. They had torches. And there was a fight," she says, quiet and somber.

"We went outside. They lit our wagon. Mama never made it out. And they were beating Papa. And he saw us and yelled at Pietro to get me out of there. And... Pietro's power emerged. And we were so far away, suddenly..." she says, trailing off and falling quiet.

Clint Barton has posed:
Even without the foreshadowing Clint could guess the direction of where things were going to go. People were always the biggest assholes to the ones they considered outsiders, especially if those outsiders were weak and desperate like Wanda and her family had been.

Or seemed... anyhow as both siblings found their powers in those moments of horror. And it was horror, to think of that woman from the picture burning in their wheeled home while the villagers beat their father to death.

"Jesus, people are such assholes," he says quietly finding anger coupled with the horror of the tale. "I'm sorry that happened, your parents, you and Pietro, you all didn't deserve that," he says placing a hand on her arm in further support.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda still hasn't looked away from the point over across the room where her eyes seem to be staring. Though seeing her memories, not the room. It's Clint's touch that finally draws her back to New York. To 2020. It takes a few seconds, but she finally turns, blinking once or twice and then she's there with him again.

It's clear enough she heard him as she responds, "I'm just glad I had Pietro. I don't know that I'd have made it without him, back then." Wanda reaches over and rests her hand atop Clint's, squeezing just a little bit to express her gratitude for what he said. And for being there.

"The years that followed... well, you can imagine, two children of seven living on their own. There were good times and bad," she says. Wanda gives a slow, single large nod of her head. "Mostly the latter though. Especially early," she says. Her green eyes look over, regarding Clint. "More of a glass of wine, and a fire, story, than a breakfast one, yes?"

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint gives her all the time she needs to come back to the moment from where her mind had taken her, his hand an achor to that moment steady through it all.

He smiles as she squeezes his hand, a sympathetic expression, "Glad Pietro," Pietro, not Petey or any of the hundred or so needling nicknames he'd made up for Wanda's brother, Pietro. It's maybe not a first, but rare enough to be noted. "Was there for you Wanda, that you guys had each other, I don't think I could have hacked it on my own either."

Especially when he hears how old they were, "You were seven?!" he says, "Jesus, Wanda, I'm sorry...l." Not just the death of their family but what came after, the world wasn't kind to kids surviving on their own at any age, let alone seven.

"Jesus," he repeats before he nods in agreement. "Definitely not a breakfast talk, but I'm glad you told me, and glad you guys made your way here even if the road took a detour through hell."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
She repeats the soft squeeze of his hand before finally moving hers back to pick up her wine glass. "I'm sure everyone figures we're close just because... you know. Twins. But, we only had each other. For the longest time anyway." Wanda pauses, and then takes a small sip of her wine.

"I'm glad you weren't alone either," Wanda says, her eyes drifting back to Clint. "Well, life is better now. I have a few more friends than Pietro. Which is probably good. Keeps me from wanting to kill him," she adds with a warm laugh. Then amends, "Well, from wanting to kill him quite so much," she says of her brother.

Wanda's eyes study Clint for a moment. "You are Natasha are very close too," she tells him, giving Clint a gentle smile as she says it. "Just how long have you two known each other, anyway?"

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint removes his hand after that second squeeze giving her arm a final squeeze in return before he like Wanda returns to their wine. "It makes sense, siblings, in a situation like that, can't imagine bonds getting closer than that." He says, "Guess I should stop giving your brother such a hard time, he's a good guy." Even if it was fun to poke the grumpy bastard.

"Yeah, brothers are like that," Clint says, with a smile trying not to bring down the mood, even as his mind flashed back to the panicked days following his dissapearance after the tidal wave and the strange clues he'd found a just a year ago that suggested he may still be alive. He takes a swallow of wine.

"Nat and I?" he asks after his sip. "Hrm, met her a couple of days after Fury sent me to kill her," he says with a faint smile. "Which is to say wow, only four years ago, seems a lot longer now, the tale is long and classified, but when it came down to it, I made a call and went a different way. Haven't regretted that choice yet."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The auburn-haired woman gives a soft laugh and says, "Nah. Don't cut Pietro any slack. He can take it. And deserves it," she says, smiling softly as she looks down for a moment.

Wanda takes another sip of the delightful red wine. "JARVIS. You outdid yourself this time." His voice comes right away. "Thank you Wanda. I'm glad the wine is pleasing." Wanda looks back over to Clint and says, "I'm probably silly that I have to make sure to thank him. But I do it just the same."

She takes her free arm, folding it along the back of the couch to rest her head on as she listens to how Clint and Natasha met. "What was it that made you decide to go against orders?" she asks him quietly. "And, for the record, I'm glad you made the choice you did too," she says.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint grins, "Good, I probably wasn't going to be able to keep to that anyhow," he says of letting Pietro off the hook for all the ribbing he throws the silver-haired mutant's way.

Though as she thanks JARVIS he can't help but smile. "I dunno, it's kinda cute, besides, JARVIS is way easier to thank than Tony, way less ego," he grins, after all it was Tony's wine they were guiltlessly drinking away.

He takes a sip of his wine and considers his answer. "Mostly when people ask that I say something like 'have you /seen/ her?' guess they think I'm that shallow," he says with a wink. "Really, though it was just a feeling, I studied everything we had on her before the op, and I dunno, just got the feeling she was looking for an out, and so when were there bow in my hands, guns in hers, I lowered my weapon first and offered her one that wasn't a body bag."

He shrugs.

"Fortunately for both of us she took it."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda seems happy to listen to Clint, and she gives a soft, warm chuckle at how Clint says he usually responds to people. "Natasha is... a true beauty," she says, slowly picking her words. "The rest of us are...less than ordinary by comparison. I don't think it would take thinking you shallow," Wanda says.

One side of her mouth lips in a bit of a slanted smile. "But I wouldn't think you would have your head turned like that, no," she tells him. Wanda falls silent then, eyes studying Client for a few seconds. "You can be very insightful," she tells Clint. "Not just what you see with your eyes, Hawkeye," she adds.

She smiles to him and then takes another sip of her wine. "I don't actually drink that much," she says of the glass of wine. "I was feeling a little down though. Maybe it showed in the song selection," she says, looking at the fireplace and shaking her head. "I'm glad you came by. Even if I'm still a little mortified you heard me play," she says, looking back to him and a touch of that blush visible on her cheeks.

Clint Barton has posed:
"She is," Clint agrees without hesitation. "Though I don't think anyone on this team counts as ordinary in the looks department," he says before dropping his voice to stage whisper. "And better not let Janet catch you saying that." he teases gently.

"Thanks. I try," Clint says warmly of her appriasal. "Though I try to downplay it, like with the shallow thing, keeps people off their game if they think I am the guy that's meatheaded enough that he brings a bow to a superhero fight."

More serious, Clint says, "Was going to ask about the song," he says. "Anything going on?" he asks her when she mentions it, though he smiles at the blush, "Stop. You were great don't even worry about it."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The mention of Janet gets a soft smile from Wanda and a nod of her head. "I would probably find out how those biostings of hers feel," she agrees. The warmth of her smile shows just how she feels about Janet van Dyne.

Wanda takes another sip of the wine, her glass running low but not seeming bothered by that fact. She hesitates at Clint's question, and he'll like read that she doesn't have an answer to the question before she gets around to answering him. "Nothing I can put my finger on, no. It feels... cold. Like winter. But not the kind of cold that turning up the thermostat can help with?"

Wanda gets a slightly abashed look. "I get like this sometimes. Just moods I get. Pietro suffers them for me," she says. "The song just felt right. There's nothing particularly bad going on. I'm around those who make me happy. So...?" she says, resting the glass on the couch cushion to lean against herself for support so she can use her hand in a shrug.

Clint Barton has posed:
"Probably but honestly as much as the stings hurt, it's her mouth you want to watch out for, the emotional scars from her insults, last a life time," Clint jokes nodding sagely again. It's all fondly ment. Jan was well, Jan and the Avengers wouldn't have her any other way.

"Just one of those feelings, huh?" Clint says, it didn't sound exactly like a gut feeling but it sounded like it was in the ballpark. "What do you do in situations like that? I mean is there a magic thing that could help get to the bottom of it, or is it just like the rest of us, it might mean something, it might not and there's no way to tell?"

He nods about the song, "Glad there's nothing really bringing you down, and the song was great, thanks for not blasting me for listening," he says with a warm smile. "I really appreciate it."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda considers the bit about magic getting to the bottom of how she's feeling. "No... that kind of magic always comes with a price," she says slowly. "And, it's probably just me being silly, anyway," she says with a shake of her head.

The Transian woman glances to her guitar, reaching over to pit it where it's leaning against the corner of the couch. "You had best be careful, Mr. Barton. Pay me too many compliments on it and you might suffer a fate worse than death. I might ask you to come listen to more sometime," Wanda says as she looks back to Clint with a faint smile.

"I'm glad you came by though," she says. "I realized, after we talked the other day in the kitchen, how little I really knew about you." Wanda reaches up to ruffle her fingers through her loose hair. "And it let me tell you the story I owed you. What's your expression? Remove a little red from my ledger?"

Clint Barton has posed:
"I dunno about that, I'm not the only one in this room with a track record of being insightful,." Clint says lightly but meaning every word. "Anyhow you know this stuff better than me."

"Let me see that was really amazing, and Cheryl wishes she had your accent," Clint says piling on a few more compliments. "So," he grins. "Do I qualify for the horrible fate of listening to you play?"

"Me too," he says about coming by. "That's the term," he agrees. "Red in your ledger, just glad it's only a story," he says. before adding. "Why tell me though? Like you said, you don't know much about me."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda Maximoff reaches over to gently grab hold of Clint's upper arm like she's going to hold him there. "Absolutely doomed. Won't let you go now. JARVIS, witness this, please? Clint is now forced to listen to my pitiful guitar playing going forward."

"It is so noted Wanda," JARVIS replies. "And may I add your playing seems quite melodious to me?"

Wanda nods her heard towards the room in general. "Thank you JARVIS. And now you're on the list of having to listen to me too."

JARVIS responds, "But I always listen?"

Wanda's auburn hair sways a bit. "Excellent. Then I don't need to ask Tony to add a... subroutine... thing... to enable it." She lets out a soft laugh and turns back to Clint then, listening to him go on.

The question why she'd tell him her story causes Wanda to get a thoughtful expression. She looks over at the slightly younger man, her green eyes searching. "I don't know," she replies softly. She continues to study him for a few more seconds before finally looking down and away and shrugging. "But I'm glad I did," she answers, before looking back up.

JARVIS's voice chimes in. "Clint. I believe someone from SHIELD is trying to reach you on an encrypted line."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint grins as Wanda grabs his arm and informs him he's doomed to listen to her music, "You hear that JARVIS? We're in this together pal. You should have escaped when you could."

JARVIS doesn't dignify Clint's comments with a response.

He laughs, before quieting for Wanda's answer. "Me too," he says simply before JARVIS buts in with the call from SHIELD.

"Ugh. The world better be ending or whoever that is is going to be so dead," he grouses. "JARVIS pipe that through to my room, I'll take it there," he says as he gets up. "We'll have to do this again sometime," he says to Wanda. "And seriously, you playing was great. I know, doomed," he calls back before grabbing his bag and heading to the door. "Catch you later," he calls looking back before he's gone letting the door click shut behind him.