4069/Debts to be Paid

Debts to be Paid
Date of Scene:	08 November 2020
Location:	Swordfish Bar (SHIELD)
Synopsis:	Clint and May meet for a drinks. And discover there's a problem they need to solve.
Cast of Characters:	Melinda May, Clint Barton

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Melinda May has posed:
Later in the evening, off work and away from the Triskelion, Melinda may sits at a table in a corner of the Swordfish, watching the younger agents let off steam. She has a glass of stout in front of her, wears jeans and a simple blouse beneath a sharp leather jacket. She looks relaxed, for once. But she is certainly not inviting others to join her. None, that is, except the man she expects to be there. She owes Clint a beer from the op in Afghanistan, and Melinda May likes to pay her debts.

Besides. She actually respects Clint.

Clint Barton has posed:
There, the veteran archer arrives, his jean jacket zipped, the hoodie underneath poking out on the collar behind him. He's greeted by a few of the younger agents, those at the dart board waving him over to toss a few with them. There's a quick laugh and a headshake in silent 'no' as he instead moves towards the tables to meet a friend.

Pulling out a chair with a booted foot, he unzips his jacket before sitting down. "Hey.. sorry, late. Got delayed by a briefing." Oh goodie, another assignment for the archer! "Something, something.. with extreme prejudice.. something.." is said with that quirked hint of a smile. "Usual."

Now, Clint settles in and reaches for the basket of peanuts sitting in the middle of the table, grabbing a small handful and cracking the shells soon after. "How's on your end? Anthing good?"

Melinda May has posed:
"Nothing to write home about," May says. "Though they've started saddling me with HR work. I think I need to *find* something new to do." Because, really? Interviewing clueless demons is so not on May's bucket list.

She takes a sip of her stout and offers the man a small smile. "How's your friend in Afghanistan, by the way? She get what she needed?"

Clint Barton has posed:
"HR?"

Clint looks absolutely confused on that one. "Really?" As if she would lie to him? "Oookay.. yeah. Come to Afghanistan with me. See the sights.."

The waitress comes over with Clint's 'usual', a nutbrown ale, and she sets it down before heading back to the bar. With a quiet, 'thanks', he eats a couple of his cracked peanuts, setting the shells to the side.

"She's trying. She's got a good defense from the south, but she's asking for more help in the north." In the bunkers. "I think going in is next on my agenda." There's a pause before he gives the woman a long look, brows rising in prelude to 'popping the question'.

"You in?"

Melinda May has posed:
"Absolutely," May replies. Because, yes. HR. Again, a small smile. This one tight, sharp, and honest. "I like her." And that's something. May's dislike is far easier to acrue than her appreciation.

"And there's nothing Afghanistan can dish out that can possibly be worse than the risk of becoming SO to a recruit so wet behind the ears a six year old would be smarter."

Clint Barton has posed:
"Me too," Clint agrees easily, but hanging underneath the words is a decided concern. He likes the woman, and at this moment, he'd do almost anything to make her life just a little bit easier. "I have a food crate ready to go out to her in the next couple of days, so we'll just follow it down." No military aid there, right?

Clint shakes his head soon after, setting the rest of the peanuts that he'd grabbed earlier down to take hold of his beer. As he lifts it, the ring of condensation remains behind on the table. There's a quick, glass tilted gesture of a toast before he takes the first swallow, and sets it down again. "I really have no idea what SHIELD is doing," is lamented. "But," and Clint shifts in his chair and offers up a single shrug, "Above my pay grade. I like it when things are cut and dry. Go there, shoot them, infiltrate that."

Melinda May has posed:
"Hell," May snirks. "Most days *I* have no idea what SHIELD is doing." And *she's* above Clint's pay grade. But there are pay grades above her. And she has no clue how they think some days.

"Let me know when we're wheels up. I'll be there. I'll bring a few toys, too." Just in case.

She reaches out for her stout and takes a long pull from it. "Other than that, you hanging in there, Barton?"

Clint Barton has posed:
"You're on my short list," Clint confirms. List of one, maybe two others, depending. "Shipment's slated for a couple of days, Air Force drop. We're tapped in as consultants to follow it on the ground. We'll have access to a Humvee."

Other than that? Clint's voice drops and it might be a little difficult to determine if he's kidding or not when he does actually answer May's question. "Finally stopped with the nightmares about a demon trying to get near me.." Much less kissing him? "I get the fact there are those things out there.. I do." There is definitely a 'but' in there, and it remains unspoken. Instead? He's taking another swallow of his beer. "You know?"

Melinda May has posed:
May's eyes grow uncharacteristically wide as Clint speaks and she... remembers. To be fair, she hasn't seen the archer regularly of late. And Levian? Well... She tries to forget him most of the time. But her cup thunks heavily on the table and she sits up. "Sonuvabitch. That was *him*, wasn't it? Damn it."

Her lips press into a thin line. "Yeah, you're not out of the woods yet, Clint. That demon's managed to go get himself recruited. I interviewed him, myself." She looks at him. "For the record, I did *not* recommend him. But, someone else must have." Or he used magic they didn't realize he possessed.

She inhales deeply, clearly angry, now. Angry at being used. "I will *fix* this," she promises. "Even if I have to damn well order him to stay no less than six feet away from you from now until eternity, I will fix this."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint stares at the woman opposite him, and for a long moment, he's silent and still as that bit of information is given him. His jaw shifts, his cheek tightens, and he's obviously not happy with this bit of information.

"Recruited. A demon. Recruited to SHIELD." Even as he says the words, he's trying to believe them. To actually understand them.

"Right. Now I really have no idea what the hell SHIELD is doing, but if I have to request some posting overseas, I will. Keep him the hell away from me."

Great.. just great. He'll have a demon stalking him and that'd be FINE with his current employer. "If you can't?" Well, wouldn't be the first time he'd be working alone, or at least with a partner. There are lots of vigilantes, right? Just make it a little harder to put food on the table.

"I.." Clint begins again, "If you can't, don't put yourself on the line. Seriously."

Melinda May has posed:
"Both Carter and I recommended he be treated as an 0-8-4 asset," May says. In other words, an object (or person) of unknown origin and power. Not agent material. A beat. She purses her lips. "And... I know exactly where to get a copy of the banishing spell that sends him straight back to hell."

There's their ace in the hole. She nods to Clint. "I'd like to tell you he's harmless. But I don't buy that." She saw him take down the drones in that rogue attack, after all. "I can tell you he's largely clueless about humanity, which is working to our advantage. But that doesn't mean I trust him."

Clint Barton has posed:
"He needs to stay away from me," Clint repeats. "If he can't figure that out, then..." He shakes his head, and without saying anything more on it, swallows the rest of the beer in one more long pull before he sets the glass down and pushes it away.

"He's not harmless, May. He's a demon. It's like.. " and he shakes his head again. "Yeah.. still really don't care whether he loves people or not. I don't trust it."

Melinda May has posed:
"It's like letting a baby Loki inside the house. Yeah. I know." May doesn't remotely disagree with him. "Not my call, Barton. If it had been..." She gives a mild shrug. Does she really need to say more?

"We'll keep him at bay, Barton. One way or another." She'll start with a casual 'chat'. And escalate from there as necessary.

Clint Barton has posed:
"Yeah.." And there's no love lost between Clint and Loki either. Battle of New York. He's still smarting over that one too, "If I could shoot that thing in the eye, it might make me feel better too." Just one shot. Just one.

Clint nods, though he still doesn't look convinced of it all. "At least I'll be out of country." It'll give him the distance and the concentrating on other work; things he has some control over.

Melinda May has posed:
May won't stop him. Won't help the agents that are assigned to bring him in after, either. She gets it. And nods. "Yeah. Go take care of your 'extreme prejudice'. Then we'll go visit your *grandmother*." A convenient euphemism for the warlord woman in Afghanistan.

"Meanwhile, I'll lay down the law and see what response I get." And then deal with the fallout. She shakes her head. "At this rate, I'll owe you beers until next century."

A beat. "Until you owe me."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint looks as if he'll make to rise at her words, and he nods with a grim smile but a smile all the same. "I think it's supposed to rain tonight, but I'll take it." He'll just put on an extra layer of clothes is all.

Now, however, he does rise to his feet and sets out a couple of bills as tip for the server. "I'll give you a call when I've got my end cleaned up, then we'll head out. Drop me a text or stick a post-it on my locker or something if you find out anything more." That is, if she's the least bit successful.

The grim smile loses some of its tightness and Clint nods, "I can't imagine a time where I won't owe you a beer at some point." He looks towards the door before looking back to May. "Just.. be careful. Okay?"

Now, though, Clint zips his jacket up and settles his right hand deep into the coat's pocket before crossing the distance towards the door. A pull on the door, and he's out.

Time to get back to work.