Owner	Pose
Helena Bertinelli	Spring is finally about to arrive. Just a few more days and it'll be offical. Today? Well today is Saint Patrick's Day. People have been partying all weekend long, there have been festivals and pub crawls all leading up to this day. Among the events, there is a gathering crowd in Central Park for two reasons. The first is to see the (environmentally safe) green dye added to the park's lake. The second was for the Four-Leaf Clover Hunt for the kids. Whoever finds the first one earns some prize and whoever finds the most will win another. Probably nothing truly of note, but a prize is a prize! Helena Bertinelli, for her part, isn't really here for the festivities. Mostly, it's just a chance to be outside and not wearing a billion layers of warm clothing. Dressed in black leggings and a pull-over hoodie and running shoes, a Gotham Knights ballcap worn backwards atop her head, she slows her walk to watch the kids running all over in search of the ever ellusive four leaf clover.
Clint Barton	Kids? Who said it's only for kids? Okay, probably only for kids, but that doesn't mean Clint Barton isn't in with the festivities. Wearing one of those cheesy green-glittered leprechaun hats on his head, he's got a team of kids all around the ages of 10-12 around him, shouting "Clover! Clover! Clover!" before that whistle is blown and they're off! Clint runs a few steps with them before slowing down to a stop, putting a hand to his side, the grin on his face easy and relaxed. Looking around the field, the course, blue eyes simply sweep the area before landing on a familiar form and figure. A quick wave is given, and he approaches, closing the distance with every step. "Hey, stranger."
Helena Bertinelli	Helena Bertinelli watches, a faint smile on her lips. She does love kids; it's why she submits herself for the torture of teaching them. Everyone has a cross to bear. Or something. Hearing Clint's voice, her brows rise in curiosity. "Stranger? I'm not the one playing Pied Piper with kids searching for fictional plants..." Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she teases him. "It's been a while, hasn't it? How have you been, Clint?"
Clint Barton	Clint's path leads directly to Helena. He's looking pretty much the same; jean jacket with a hoodie beneath it, jeans, a pair of high-top converse sneakers. Somewhere in there, there has to be a bow and arrows, knives or a gun. If there is, it's well hidden. The grin doesn't fade one iota, and a laugh exits the man as he twists around to look at the gaggle of pre-teens on their bellies at random patches of greenery and return again to Helena. "Their mothers are going to have a fit, but at least they're outside. This is a whole lot cheaper than Easter egg hunts." Clint shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, the action comfortable. "Yeah," and he looks down quickly, all but scuffing a foot on the ground before looking up again. "Sorry 'bout that. Keeps happening, you know?" There's a single shouldered shrug, and he shifts position so that he's beside her so he can keep an eye on the goings on of the kids. "Life's been life. Avengering. Working here and there. All in all, not what I expected, but not too bad. "You?"
Helena Bertinelli	Helena Bertinelli nods knowingly, "Yes they are." She pauses. "If... this is your method of meeting women?" Her dark eyes narrow in consideration. "I can't decide if that idea is shrewd and creative or sad and desperate." The grin tugging at the corners of her mouth suggest both conclusions are at least humorous. "But I don't envy you the wrath of mothers having to deal with grass stains from head to toe. I hope you know how to defend yourself." Then she shrugs and hand waggles. "Oh you know. The same. It seems like the world kind of imploded a bit last year. Nothing bad, just tugged in a bunch of different directions and never enough time to catch my breath, you know?" She laughs lightly. "But this year is still young. There is plenty of time for the wheels to fall off all over again."
Clint Barton	"Kids and dogs. And I don't have a dog." There's a pause before Clint continues, "Almost had one once. Haven't seen her in awhile." Stray dogs and archers! "I'd rather have it considered shrewd, but that's just me. Either way, if I get in trouble with their mothers, Cap owes me a favor or three." Helena's grin is echoed by Clint's own, and he leans in to shoulder-bump, even with his hands still lazily in pockets. "I'll be fine, so don't worry." As if! Her explanation of how things on her end are going has Clint's unwavering attention for the moment. He watches as she talks, and while she keeps it light, he's looking at all the possibilities under there. Neither "of them live easy lives, he's well aware. "Well, so far the new year isn't as big a dumpster fire as last." And the year before. "But, you know what? If it starts to look like it's going to hell in a handbasket, call me. I'm serious. If I'm around, I'll come running, okay? Just like that. No questions." Which is a large order in terms of promises!