5705/Clint and Bobbi catchup

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Clint and Bobbi catchup
Date of Scene: 24 March 2021
Location: Wetworks Bar and Distillery
Synopsis: Two old SHIELD friends catch up on issues with their partners and super serums.
Cast of Characters: Bobbi Morse, Clint Barton

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi has set up in one of the booths past the large red double-doors. She will have to ask Peggy sometime soon if this is a faithful recreation of the 50s and 60s or not. Probably not. Nothing else is new again. It's always an echo. She has before her 'Rye Another Day' and is taking small sips. The trip to Gotham was worth it. This place was everything she had hoped it would be.

    Besides which, this is quite far away from SHIELD HQ or any chance of bumping in to any New York friends or colleagues. If she's lucky, some halfwit criminal will try to take her on later tonight when she's heading back to the hyper loop. It is Gotham after all, this place is notorious for its absurdly high crime rate.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint wanders in a little later, having also ridden the hyper loop. SHIELD frowns on taking quinjets barhopping, after all. Looking around the place, he nods, appreciating the decor as irony for a meeting between two spies, even if they are friends meeting for a drink. He spots Bobbi and heads over to her table, his hands in the pockets of the denim jacket he's wearing.

He slips into a seat across from her with a nod and a quiet, "Hey there." When the server comes over, he orders a Casino Ryeall and waits for it to be delivered and the server to be gone before he looks over and asks, "So what's up? Interesting place, but a little off our normal path. Just trying something new, or did you want some privacy for something?"

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi smiles as she sees Clint. It must suck for the Avengers without training in Spycraft. Clint and Nat really can go for a walk in civvies and blend right in. She lifts up her tumbler for a *clink* and takes another sip. "Well.. WELL.. what's up. Gawd. Where do I start. I have no where else to be right now. Lance and I are having a strong disagreement right now -- so the usual haunt, Harry's Bar in Salem. Well, let's just say I'm not eager to bump in to him right now."

    She rolls her eyes and sighs. Bobbi and Lance getting together.. and breaking up. It's a predictable cycle and those Agents who have known Morse for a long time have seen it happen plenty before. "And this place came recommended to me. I have to admit, I love the drink name puns. I'm going to have to get Coulson to try some of this Rye Another Day," she adds with a smirk.

Clint Barton has posed:
Glasses clink together and he shakes his head as she speaks, "Seriously, again? I swear, you two spend more time apart than you do together." He shakes his head, "I'm no relationship expert Bobbi, but you might want to really think about how the two of you get along. I mean, arguments happen, sure, but with your guys it seems like it's constant." He takes a drink, "Feel free to tell me to butt out, of course. If you just want an ear and not advice, I can do that too."

Clint shrugs a little, then takes a moment to take the denim jacket off to hang over his chair. He's wearing a grey hoodie under it, which you can tell is concealing a shoulder holster. Yes, the archer actually carries a gun when he can't be lugging a quiver around with him. "But yeah, I think Coulson could appreciate this place, actually."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She shakes her head and then lulls it back with a groan of annoyance, "No. You're right. I don't know why I thought it would be different this time. We sat down and had a real deep and meaning discussion about why things always go wrong." She looks back to Clint with a look of annoyance on her face and takes a sip of the whisky.

    "He posited that I always put SHIELD first and never make room for life. So I agreed to make a distinction between work and life." She cats a hand against the wooden table top and takes another sip. "So I did. I scheduled my work better and made sure I had time for him outside of work..."

    Then she rolls her eyes, "And what does he go and do?" she waggles a finger, "I'm sure you can guess. But I'll tell you anyway. He went and stashed a prisoner his team caught on a mission -- in his freakin' bathroom. Clint. His Bathroom."

    She shakes her head in disbelief, "And he's the one telling me I don't know where to draw the line between life and work and he goes and does that? like.. what?" She clunks her glass down on the table, "I'm not wrong on this one, right? he fucked up and should apologise right?"

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint takes a long drink from his glass as she explains the cause for the latest flareup in a famously rocky relationship. He can understand the underlying cause, hell, his relationship has had a few rocky moments over the whole work/life balance thing too. Leaving a note to let her know he'd be gone for several weeks was a particularly low point there. But he's learned how to do it a little better.

He nods as Bobbi finishes explaining the cause of the latest problem and actually starts to chuckle a little. He waves a hand in apology, "I'm sorry, it's not something to laugh at... but at the same time, it's kind of funny to think of him keeping a prisoner in his bathroom. But yeah, he's totally in the wrong on that. I mean, zero separation, and why the hell would he keep a prisoner in his home and not a SHIELD facility to begin with? Bad relationship move, and bad procedural move."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She rolls her eyes, "Ugh. Reasons. And that's the thing. They're good reasons. That's what he's been clinging on to and arguing with me about. That it 'had to be done' to ensure the success of the mission. How many times have I been saying that to him over the years? many. Oh so many times. I drag him back in to SHIELD and he gets pulled over in to some crazy dark mission and this is what happens."

    She sighs and stares in to her glass, "No, it's funny. I get that it's funny. But he's a stubborn jerk just like me and seems to refuse to admit he screwed up. The very fundamental concept behind this latest attempt at dating has been dragged over the coals. I tried Clint. I tried really hard. This was such a slap in the face."

    She takes another sip of her whisky and asks, "Sorry. I haven't even asked how you're doing? Are you okay after that Russian job?"

Clint Barton has posed:
He raises his glass in a mocking salute, "To reasons." He takes a sip. "There's always reasons, it's just a matter of deciding if you can accept them for this particular issue. Because yeah, he had reasons, but at the same time, he did exactly what he bitches at you for doing. At the very least, yeah, he owes you an apology, no question. You tried to fix a problem he had, then he turned around and did the exact same thing to you. That's just not cool in any way."

"As for me.. I'll tell you how I am once we find out who it actually is I shot in that gym. I don't think it was Nat, or at least not our Nat, but certainly a perfect copy, at least." He cocks his head and looks over at her, "Speaking of that... since when can you rip elevator doors open? Either you've been holding out on me for a while, or that's something new."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    "Okay so let me get this straight. You're refraining from telling me how you are until after a possible evil doppelganger of Natasha stops screwing us around long enough for us to get the truth out? Hell freeze over much?" She smirks. She is mighty confused about Natasha right now too and she intends to get answers. Red Room training or not, Bobbi has her ways.

    "Ah," she says and downs the whole of the whisky, then motions to the server for another. "Well isn't that a change of topic suddenly then." There's a wry little smile and she sighs. "The how is highly classified but yes, I am now, technically, a super soldier. It's been a few months now and I've been training with Steve to get a better grip on things. It's.. not easy. And there are complications."

    She holds up her wrist showing off a heart rate monitor. "I get them in the field, which is why I suspect that mission to Russia may be my very last strike operation. At least, until Simmons and I can find a way to fix things," she says with a sigh, "My heart just can't handle it when I get too emotionally invested in things."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint shrugs, "Until I know if our Nat is ok, I'm kind of up in the air, is what I mean. I'm ok, wasn't hurt, was a fairly easy mission, I'm just still worried about Nat." He takes another sip of his drink, "So not so much refraining as not knowing how I am, besides worried."

He looks at her for a long moment, then shakes his head, "What in the world made you decide to be a guinea pig for the eggheads Bobbi? You know Steve was a one-off, they haven't succeeded in copying him for how many years now?" He buries his face in his hand for a moment, then says quietly, "And you're not emotionally invested in the Lance thing? This isn't good Bobbi. Ok, we need to do something to defuse this situation before it goes really pear-shaped."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She nods her head about Natasha. Brain washing or there's two Natasha's. Either is a messed up situation. She hmms and thanks the server when a new whisky is delivered. She takes another sip and lets out a long breath. "Oh. Well. You do realise I'm the egg head that wrote the definitive paper on super soldier serums right?," she says with a smirk. "I'm not a medical doctor you know right?"

    Of course she can keep secrets, she's a spy after all. She says, "Like I said, it's highly classified." She wipes her lips with the back of her hand and nods her head, "So yeah.. may be May might have filed several reports indicating I was not fit for field duty. It's not just Lance I care about.. it's all my close colleagues. When I'm focused on mission.. I'm fine. But when things go pear shaped suddenly I can't keep my cool and my heart does its dance."

    She shrugs her shoulders, "Well. Fury and Hill took this opportunity to ground me. I'm not exactly stuck behind a desk but ... I'm Level 8 now Clint. I'm now officially Commander Morse in charge of the Special Priority Operations Team. Gonzales' group. Since.. HYDRA killed him. I'm his replacement." She sighs softly and lifts her tumbler up in Gonzales' memory and takes a long sip.

Clint Barton has posed:
Another sip finishes his drink and he orders another as well, waiting for it to be delivered and the server to go before taking up the conversation again. "Yeah, so? It's generally considered bad form to experiment on yourself, if I remember my science classes correctly. But if you're gonna whip out classified, fine, I'll let it go. For now.

He reaches over with his glass and clinks it against hers. "Congratulations, Commander. I'm sorry about Gonzales though, he was a good guy." He also raises his glass, "To Gonzales." and takes a drink as well. "Ok, so, let's see. Lance is a dork, you got promoted and broken, and we still don't know what's up with Nat. Yeah, sounds like a normal SHIELD week to me."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She looks somewhat ataken back, "Normal? This is easy mode. At least we don't have aliens falling from the sky or demonic shadows rising from the ground." She chuckles and takes a sip. "I'm not ever going to be over Gonzales. I have to admit, I want blood. I want HYDRA to pay for what they've taken from us. Heck, from me. That man has been my mentor for over a decade.. I was his level 7 for many years and.." she stops and shakes her head, resting the liquid to her lips and sipping.

    "I lost my cool out there. I tortured a HYDRA agent to get answers," she says in hushed tones. "It was Dr. List behind the attack. One of Whitehall's mentors. I think he means to try and pick up where Whitehall left off.. and we only have lead on his location." She lifts up her watch and nods her head, "Mission should be under way right about now. Fingers crossed they get the bastard."

Clint Barton has posed:
He shrugs, "Well, it's all a matter of perspective, and heaven knows if there are aliens coming that Fury just hasn't shared with us yet, you know how he can be sometimes. As for HYDRA. Yeah. I want to find them and I want to end them, I'm getting real tired of hearing about them at this point, and they're always a little to far ahead of us for my comfort. We've all lost friends to them, I think, maybe not all with as long a friendship as that, but still.. they need to be stopped."

He listens to her confession without a change of expression, then nods, "Don't let it eat you up, Bobbi. Hate is easy, but it can make you lose yourself. I've seen it, I know you've seen it. Maybe you did something wrong there, yeah, but if you can realize it was a mistake and not repeat it, there should be no lasting harm done. If you need to talk about it, I'm here to listen."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She smirks at him and takes a long sip of her whisky, "What is this new found zen philosophy. Is this what they teach you at the Avengers Mansion?" She wouldn't put it past some of the people who live there. "But thank you Clint. It's.. it is what it is," she furrows her brows and says, "So... do you think I should take the jackass back if he apologises?"

    Of course, back to Lance. This is Bobbi we're talking about here.. the man is and always has been the center of her world ever since she first twisted him around her little finger on a mission in London to gain intelligence against a HYDRA infested STRIKE team. Back then, STRIKE was a British initiative, not SHIELD. Back then, Lance was her very image of a real life 007. Accent, tux, attitude, and better yet, she beat him at the spy game.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint casually flips the bird at her, "Zen my ass, it's just plain sense. Well, and maybe a little bit of a calming influence here and there." He takes another drink, "You tell me Bobbi. I mean, you probably will, but you two really need to have some really long talks and try to tone down the constant fights." He considers her with a slight grin, "That is, unless somewhere deep in that twisted little head of yours, you actually somehow like the conflict. I mean, there's got to be something that keeps you two together despite all the warfare."

A shrug and another drink is taken, "Or I could be totally off. I dunno, we've got pretty good benefits, does SHIELD have a couples counselor? You couldn't really go to a civvie one, given where most of your conflict comes from, but maybe a professional could give better advice than some guy who shoots people with arrows."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She smirks and says, "Everything would be classified." She puts down her whisky and folds her arms. "It's.. it's not the fighting. When things are going well.. they go REAL well. You know? we respect each other deeply and enjoy each others company and share a similar weird sense of humour about life the universe and everything."

    She sighs, "But then something always messes it up and we go at each other like we're at war. It's ... I don't know what it is but I hate feeling like this." She covers up her emotions and sips the whisky again. "I guess I never learn my lesson huh?"

Clint Barton has posed:
He spreads his hands, "You've got me. I mean, you get along so well, what you need to figure out is _why_ you go at each other so hard everytime things aren't perfect. I mean, all couples fight, but you guys seem to make an event of it every time it happens. If you could figure out why it's all or nothing, you might be on your way to toning things down a little bit."

He rubs his forehead for a moment then adds, "I mean, you know you hate it, so you need to figure out how to avoid it. There's got to be something that makes it so nuts. Least that's how I see it."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She goes quiet for a while and thinks that, perhaps, it hurts so bad because they do love each other so much. She furrows her brow and sips the whisky. "So you're not even going to ask me about the flight suit?," she quizzes casually changing the topic. "Sure, super strength and all, super stamina too I suppose. But dude.. wings. Alien wings at that."

Clint Barton has posed:
He chuckles, then holds up a finger, "Sam." Another finger "Tony" A third, "Rhodes." He shrugs, "Flying tech is not that big a thing these days. I mean, sure, I still can't fly and just have to get by with a bow and arrow, but it wasn't anywhere near the surprise the strength was. I mean, I could see how the flying thing was happening, SHIELD gave you one of the good toys. It's cool, I want one, but we had more important things to discuss than tech."

He laughs, "I mean, I live around Tony and his toys, really nothing that someone can strap on their body would be a surprise anymore. Which reminds me, I should make his life hell until he builds me something cool."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She grins, "That's fair. Mine runs on Falcon OS so.. well, Falcon OS light. I don't have all the weaponry and the like that Falcon and the Iron suits have. I don't really need or want it either. But, yeah, you have a point. And that point is, there's no point arm wrestling me anymore." She grins and SHIELD Academy memories.

    "Do you like being assigned to the Avengers? or does it feel like you're the only adult in the room sometimes?," she asks with a raised eyebrow. "I haven't seen Banner around much lately. Is he okay? ..heh, you know - if you want to see weird facial twitches, next time you see Fury mention _anything_ the Avengers have done recently."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint grins, "They do have a unique style, it's true, but they're also damned effective. And they're not all that bad. I mean, come on, Cap? Now, Tony is an eternal adolescent, I'll grant you, and Thor... just doesn't look at the world the same way we do. Janet and Vision are good, Wanda's.. well, she's another one with an interesting worldview, but she's doing her best." He frowns, "I hate that I can't talk to her about all the things I keep getting dragged away to do. Constantly leaving without being able to say why or how long, or what happened when I get back."

He looks over at her, then takes another drink and shrugs, "Imagine you and Lance if you couldn't talk about any of the things causing your problems. It'd be a million times worse than it is now."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She gets a sympathetic look on her face and nods her head. "It was.. back when he was new to SHIELD and I was a Special Agent. I couldn't tell him any of the things I was doing. I was going on a lot of undercover missions -- and there were targets I was seducing and fostering long term relationships with to get my foot in the door in to bad bad places."

    "He.. didn't take it well and resented not knowing. I think, in the end, that's why he quit SHIELD and became a mercenary. He was dreadful at it - one of the hall marks of a good merc is they don't have much of a conscience," she says with a sigh.

    She raises an eyebrow, "So.. you know exactly what it's like. Wanda isn't taking it well? I don't know her much except by reputation. I envision she's more reasonable about it than Lance was. Now it's kind of an ironic twist that he's the one going off on secret missions while I stay behind."

    She huffs a touch and lifts her whisky glass up and says, "To the screwed up life we live as spies." Then drinks the rest of her whisky.

Clint Barton has posed:
"Yeah, I do. She's actually taking it fairly well, to be honest. She understands why we can't talk about it. Really, it's me having problems with it. She's been great about the whole thing, and I hate that she has to just put up with all the not knowing."

He returns the glass salute, "So screwed up." He grins a little, "But at least I learned that leaving a note is not the correct way to let your girlfriend know you'll be gone for a while. And I never store prisoners in the bathroom. That's what the basement is for."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    She laughs and places her glass down on the table top. "So.. your curiosity satisfied? I'm done bitching about Hunter for another night. Shall we head back to the hyperloop and the big apple?" She takes a small bundle of notes out of a thigh pocket and places them on the table top. More than enough to cover the drinks and tip.

    "May be grab some street food on the way home and if we're lucky get accosted by some rent a thugs Gotham style?" She rises up and offers a hug to one of her oldest friends. "I don't know about you but I need some nice night air after those bourbons. I've definitely got to get Coulson down here."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint finishes his drink, then stands, collecting his jacket and swinging it on. "Yeah, let's head back. You can tell Lance I said he was wrong, he can bitch that I don't know what I'm talking about, and we can go from there." He watches her pay for the drinks and smirks, "There's that Commander money in play."

He nods, "Food is good, thugs not so much, but what happens, happens." He returns the hug without a second thought, then pats her shoulder, "Let's go, we can figure out a way to trick him out of his office while we walk."