Owner	Pose
Carol Danvers	Carol finished sprinting laps around the track that circles the outside of the facility a little while ago. Wearing a tank top, spandex shorts and sneakers, she had worked up a good sweat. Must faster to fly than run, but keeping in shape came with its own benefits. Dabbing perspiration from her face with her towel, she moved over to one of the weight machines. Free weights weren't really an option for her, not if she wanted a workout. But the machines were made so the likes of herself, Thor, and She-Hulk could work out on them. Hulk? Well him too, but there was always the chance of them being smashed. Turning the dial weigh up, Carol laid down on a bench and grasped the bars to begin doing a bench press. Lifting 50 tons, she focused on her form and breathing.
Clint Barton	Ah. The Avengers Traning Facility. A place Clint would always go to in order to remind himself that he had no real powers. Watching the other Avengers lift weights he had trouble fathoming, or running faster than his aging body could ever hope to. Yet he knew he needed to maintain his peak physical condition and was willing to put the work in, even if he was still sore for the life he did yesterday. Entering the facility, Clint takes a sip from the bottle of water in his hand, nodding once in his plain black t-shirt and running pants. Nothing fancy. Not for Clint. A hand ran across the back of his neck as he let out a sigh that seemed to say" "Okay let's do this." Luckily it was a quiet moment, just how he liked to work out, the archer only seeing Carol working out on the bench press machine. The cardio could wait. Here was an excuse to put it off for a few moments longer. "Yeah. I would do that..but you know leg day. Arm day was yesterday."
Carol Danvers	Carol is in mid-set, focused on lifting, but Clint's comment still draws a grin from the blond woman. She continues focusing on her breathing and keeping her core tight as she finishes pushing the bar up, and locks it in place, the machine ending the high resistance so it doesn't cause any injuries. She sits up, grabbing her towel to pat beneath her ponytail to get at the back of her neck. "I'd think every day was arm day for an archer," she comments to him. The woman rises from the bench and moves to grab her own water bottle, condensation forming drops on the outside of it and signaling how cold it is. She holds it up against her forehead, enjoying that coolness before undoing the top and taking a sip of it. Looking over to Hawkeye, Carol says, "Great of you coming in and working out. I mean, you know. At your age." The woman's blue eyes are twinkling. Though she only looks 26, thanks to the cosmic energy infusing her, Clint would know that Carol is not only older than him, but was born a mere 17 days before he was.
Clint Barton	Clint's eys fall to the woman as she sits up, a small shake of his head and an attempt to hide the grin. You cannot laugh or smile when you have been burned. However, he fails as that smile does find its way to his face. "Well true. Leg day is to make sure I can get out of bed every morning and make it to the bathroom on time. You know at my age." He winks and takes another sip of the water, then setting it down on a machine beside him, and the proceeds to do some light arm stretches that cannot help but look a bit awkward. "It's not like I follow your beauty regimen to maintain that youthful glow. I have the look of experience. Yeah let's go with that. Experience." Exercise. It can wait. Clint sits down on the bench beside Carol's, making himself quite comfortable, watching her a moment before speaking again. "So um. How have you been? It's been a little while since we conversed like this. You know, one on one. All tired from working out." Never mind that he has yet to do anything but stretch his arms.
Carol Danvers	Carol's lips quirk up just slightly at the corner, telegraphing the teasing that is about to happen. "Oh yes. Soooooo much experience," she tells him, her lips finally breaking out in the grin that she was trying to contain. "I'm good," she tells him as she sits back down on her bench. Carol tilts back the water bottle, drinking down a few swallows before capping it and setting it off to the side, on the floor mat but within easy enough reach. "Oh, I'm doing pretty good. I've been in and out of the mansion lately. My mom passed to me an old country house we had, for vacations, but lived there a few years too," she tells him. Carol swings a leg over the bench and lies down again to get into position beneath the bars. She reaches over to switch the weight back on. "It's been neglected pretty bad. Needs a lot of work. I find it... ah, kind of therapeutic though," she says. "Though it also makes me realize I'm not quite the best interior decorator."
Clint Barton	"You wound me Carol. Like an arrow to my heart with your sarcastic words." He is trying to be serious, but it is next to impossible, that smile remains on his face as he finally just surrenders. "A lot of experience. Like..a lot." He leans down to stretch a bit more, sending his fingers towards his toes with a small little sound. Not as flexible as he once once. "I'd ask you to jog with me, but I would not want to, um...make you feel slow. I'm pretty quick." he stands and does a quad strech, switching to the other one. Oh Clint has a prime pre-workout routine. Carol shouls take notes. "You know. I've done a little renovating work. Thor isn't the only one handy with a hammer. If you need any help out there, I could you know, pound a few nails. Hang a curtain. I mean if you wanted it." He quickly adds with some eagerness. "No charge."
Carol Danvers	Though she's enjoying teasing Clint, Carol Danvers also doesn't want to overdo it. "I appreciate that. You know us pilots. Move somewhere under our own power? The thought!" she tells him, flashing that smile at him. Carol draws in a breath and then lets it out slowly as she bench presses the machine's bar back up into the air. Slow, steady reps are done with perfect form. The machine has a quiet hum to it, but there's almost a strained sound to it as it has to exert a lot of pressure to make the resistance that will be challenging to her. When the set is down, Carol returns the bar to the starting spot, and powers down the resistance again. She sits up. "I might just take you up on that. Though when you see the sorry state of the barn, in particular, you might regret offering," she tells Clint, then reaches for her water to take another sip.
Clint Barton	Clint would spot her. I mean that is what a gentleman would do. Tho, when the machine is at the weight that Carol is lifting, he would be about as useful as a blind seeing eye dog. However, while he stretches he does watch her use the machine, finding himself staring perhaps longer than he should have allowed himself. When she finishes and sits back up, he quickly moves to avert his gaze a bit, staring off at the tack a moment. He slowly turns his head back to her, as cool as cool could ever be. "I have never bet a barn that has bested me yet. Not that I have met a lot of barns. You let me be the judge of that. We can take a ride out there sometime and letme see it for myself? Would not mind getting away a litle bit. You know be able to walk around a bit without being asked to take a selfie with someone." There is a littl hint of sarcasm in his words. "But it is up to you to take me up on my offer. If not, I'll try to justify my manliness another way."
Carol Danvers	Carol rises from the bench, grabbing her towel and wiping it down now that she's finished with it. "Alright, you have a deal," she tells him. "If you like fishing, can grab some bait on the way. It's on a little lake," she tells him. "I haven't tried fishing in it again yet. But we used to catch stuff when we were kids. Blue gill, sunfish, crappie. Some decent eating," she tells him. "I'm all done," Carol says as she wipes at her neck and shoulders with the towel, "So the place is all yours. Try not to strain anything," she says, and Carol gives Clint another grin. Though rather than teasing, it's just a warm grin. She walks past, patting his shoulder briefly and then heading out into the basement hallway.
Clint Barton	Clint gives Carol a smile as she departs, turning his head to watch her go. After she fully departs, he turns his attention back to the track and lets out a small sigh as he starts to walk towards it. "Come on Clint. 2 miles then a nap. You got this." Stepping onto the track he did one more arm stretch before starting to jog. "I need to buy a hammer."