Owner	Pose
Wanda Maximoff	There are several ways that people could have ended up in the hangar. It could be that they are doing some maintenance on a quinjet to make sure it is ready for a lengthy upcoming flight for a mission. Mission, or perhaps beach trip. It's a difference of one box or another check marked in the aircraft's flight log. Or, it could be that someone came up to watch said maintenance being performed. Keeping the person company, but generally just watching. And in doing so, getting thirsty. Or it could be that someone might have seen one of the mansion staff wheeling a drink cart from the elevator out towards the hangar, and followed along to find out what's going on that requires a beverage cart. In the case of Wanda, she's the middle case. She stands nearby to a quinjet and watches as Clint opens up the cowling on one of the engines. She moves closer to peer at it. "So that's how it opens," she says. She looks inside at the complicated-looking components. "This is why I studied history rather than avionics in college," she comments with a gesture towards the engine.
Clint Barton	Clint looks up from where he's working on the avionics, giving Wanda a smile, "Well, something that will be a comfort to everyone going up in this thing next is that I didn't go to college, or finish high school for that matter," he says with a grin wiping his hands on the coveralls he's wearing. Despite his protesting having any sort of education, SHIELD had been pretty thorough in its training when it came to fixing the Quinjet, so odds were good Clint wasn't going to break it. And hey he wasn't even drinking yet. "Not sure what to think of doing this with an audience though, feel I should have the A-Team music playing and be welding something to make it look cooler."
Thor	Across from the hangar and in the large double doors that lead to the mansion undersystem proper, the large figure of the Mighty Thor can be seen as he returns after a fair amount of time. Sent off on an errand he had wandered the halls and set to the search with a steady stride.     And that had bought Clint a good 34 minutes of Thor-Free time with which to enact his efforts upon the machine. Only now that time has passed and with it the peace he may have had. For the Thunderer approaches carrying what looks like a bottle of Windex in one hand as well as a rag.     "Barton!" The single word heralds his arrival. "I tried to procure your headlight fluid, and sought high and low. Eventually JARVIS granted me aid and he suggested this might be what you meant?" The Windex bottle is held aloft and as he closes the distance he presents it to the archer with raised eyebrows and an utter lack of understanding as to the prank that may have been pulled on him.
Clea	Mansion staff need to be watched. Not stalked, but watched. The cart rolls along, its rattling covering up the pursuit by someone with reason to be here. That would be Clea, the third case. Drinks are a perfectly valid reason and she follows at a distance to see what transpires in the hangar. Long silken sleeves waft around her hands, giving a slow motion undulation opposite to the path she walks. It isn't hard to spot her though she has a way of moving quietly. That's probably one of those bit uncanny things, but it goes with the territory for a sorceress.     "Careful," she announces when the poor employee rolls the cart and a bottle tries to make an escape before someone thirsty noticed it. A hastened movement and she snatches up the offending glass container, unconcerned whether it contains alcohol or a forbidden jet headlight fluid. Either way, no sudden shaking required.
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda crosses her arms, watching as Clint does his work. "I have complete confidence in going up in an aircraft that you have maintained, Clint," she tells him in a confident tone. "And you really should not take the fact that I'm capable of some semblance of flight of my own, should the plane fall from the sky, as lessening the level of trust that the previous statement might have imparted." The Transian woman's lips curl up in a grin for Clint, and then the others are arriving. "Ah, the drinks. And... well done Thor. I don't know that I would have succeeded so... successfully," Wanda offers to the Asgardian with a smile. "Ah, and the drinks are here," she says, moving over to the cart. "Hello Clea, nice to see you. I've been hoping to have a chance to get to speak to you a bit more," she says.
Clint Barton	Clint grins, "I'll keep that in mind," he says to Wanda. "Both your confidence and he fact you can fly," he says giving her a little nudge with his foot before he ducks out from under the aircraft to greet the others. "Great work, Thor, exactly what I was looking for," he lies with a grin. "Since our next mission is near the water I was going to see if you could find some shore lines to help secure the jet with but I found them on my own," he says. He waves to Clea when she enters, "Hey Clea," he greets. "Come join the party."
Thor	Straightening up, Thor seems to puff up just a bit at having proven once more to be Mighty at something on his first try. He gives a solemn nod, "Excellent," Then lightly thumps the side of the Quinjet with one hand. "I am certain with your efforts this vehicle will be sound and safe for a long time to come."     That having been said he shifts his weight to the other foot and offers Wanda a smile and a wave, "Wanda, I am sure you would have fared just as well or better." His head bobs slightly as if to impart added emphasis to the truth of his statement. But then Clea rolls up and his attention falls on her.     His bow furrows slightly as his gaze falls upon her, then he looks to the others who seem to be speaking with some familiarity with her. "Greetings," A hand is offered, "I do not believe I have had the pleasure. I am Thor, Son of Odin."
Clea	Clea places the bottle on the cart carefully among the actual beverages. With luck it won't be poisonous when picked up. The aircraft is much more interesting than a variety of pop, water or energy drinks, so she slips past the cart without selecting anything. Coming in closer gains a vantage point where she can get a proper look at the Quinjet, and then greet those she knows or doesn't. A hand lifted in a precise wave sends the trailing sleeve tumbling back from her wrist.     "Hello, Wanda," she says in turn. "I hadn't expected quite so much activity up here. I might have come sooner to see what all the excitement's about. You had questions? It looks like it's been most productive doing... repairs?" It's a guess in Clint's direction, looking for confirmation or clarification.     The smile stays fully in place when Thor offers his hand. She holds out her own a moment later, happy to offer a clasp or shake. Whatever he prefer. "Good evening, Thor, Son of Odin. Clea, sorceress of the Dark Dimension." That might explain the heat radiating from her skin, warmer than most humans ever run.
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda Maximoff gives the staffer who brought the drink cart a smile as he asks if they'd like for him to pour for them. "Oh, I'm sure we can manage it ourselves," she says. "Besides, we want to exaggerate it for Clint since he can't drink until he's done with the repairs," she says, green eyes twinkling a bit. Yes, Clint is having to deal with her in one of those teasing moods she gets sometimes. The way Thor straightens with that bit of pride brings a small smile from the woman. It's not at his expense at all, just that she enjoys such little moments where Thor manages to turn even a practical joke into a positive moment. "Thank you for that," Wanda says. "I think there's probably some Asgardian ale in here as I said you might be back by," she says, looking over the bottles. "And I think... a rum and coke for myself," she says, getting a glass and adding ice before beginning to pour. "Have you taken a room in the mansion, Clea, or staying elsewhere?" she inquires.
Clint Barton	"That's the hope," Clint says with a smile as he takes the Windex from Thor and gives a grin to Wanda in passing. "Sure, rub it in," he says with a shake of his head. He steps back under the jet, hanging the Windex off his belt to keep his hands free as he picks up the tools. "Definitely should grab a room here even if you've got another spot, you get to be part of all the exciting events like pool parties and watching me work," he jokes as he starts in on the engines again. "But seriously though, hanging out with the team is half the fun of being on it, right guys?"
Thor	Her hand is taken and he is a mite bit gentle with it, but not hesitant. Three good pumps of a shake and then he releases as he straightens up, "Ah, Lady Clea. An honor. Indeed, Barton is correct. It is important to build camaraderie with your shieldbrethren." He gives a nod firmly as he commits the young woman's features and name to memory before his smile broadens a touch.     He then turns and again /thump-thumps/ the Quinjet but not too hard as he murmurs, "An excellent job, all told, Barton." He gives Wanda a nod as if reiterating that opinion to her before he closes his eyes faintly as if offering thanks before he takes a deep breath. "Oh ale? Indeed?"     But then he seems to catch himself as he holds up a hand. "But now, I'm afraid I should be off. To Asgard on the morrow and words to be shared with mine father. Perhaps when I return."     He nods towards Clint, "In any case, it seems matters are well in hand here. No need for two mechanics after all." As if he could fix the Quinjet. But the gregarious Asgardian smiles to them and lifts a hand, "I shall bid you good e'en."     He steps back but before fully withdrawing another nod is spared for Clea, "Again, Lady Clea. An honor." With that he turns and begins the stroll back to those double doors and through.
Clea	"I'll never tire of a place where people do not greet me with a crossbow or cowering at my feet, but here people tend not to bow to much," Clea says with a wry grin. It fades out quickly enough back to her usual smile. "Having a room of my own will not be a burden? I do not want to take up a place that someone else would require. I need very little, after all." A laugh softens her worried tone quite a bit. "You all make too compelling an argument otherwise. Having like minds around and teambuilding is advantageous."     She turns back to the Quinjet and then tilts a bit to see whatever Clint has been working on. "How are you modifying it? Is it that or is it being cleaned? I can get the topside easily." With all in order, she wouldn't much know the difference. So it falls to her to cheerfully wave after the Asgardian departing their company. "Safe travels to you, Thor. May your path be swift and sure."     The drinks she will worry about later, having been thoroughly distracted. Enough she floats a foot off the ground. "It's a very handsome craft. Even if I have barely a notion of how it works, it just looks fast."
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda Maximoff waves goodbye to Thor as well. "Safe travels," she tells the Asgardian before turning her attention back to the drinks. Her own is made, but then she prepares a second glass. This one just gets soda, which Wanda carries over to Clint. "Would you like a drink, Clea?" Wanda asks as she offers the soft drink to Clint. "As for rooms, I think the mansion has plenty, most likely. There are still several guest rooms at the least for visitors, and others that I've never seen the inside of so I'm guessing could probably be made into another room if needed." Wanda returns to get her own drink, taking a sip of it. "Also, Clea, there was a raid on one of our storage facilities. The mercenaries who accompanied the Juggernaut drank something that enhanced them physically. Doctor Strange and I will be working together to determine if there is a magical nature to the little bit we were able to recover of the fluid. If you'd like to accompany us when we do, I believe you and Stephen are already well acquainted, aren't you?"
Clint Barton	Clint ducks back out to wave goodbye to Thor, "Later Thor, thanks for the headlight fluid," the archer calls out with a grin on his lips before the God left. "So, now we know they don't have that kind of hazing on Asgard," he says before taking the coke from Wanda and leaning over to kiss her cheek. "Thanks," he says with a smile before leaning against the jet. "Definitely plenty of room around here for you, Clea, besides it'll be good for letting the team get to know you better," he says before he perks up at the mention of the raid. "Sorry I missed that one, so, we're still not sure what they were after?"
Clea	Just the thing to bring up before contemplating a beverage. Magic concoctions that enhance henchmen! Clea looks back over her shoulder while the idle undulations of that long, fluid skirt twine with her calves. The draped fabrics are clearly cut to move, pooling around her in suspended motion. "That's troublesome. What was being stored there that they targeted? Something that could be tracked perhaps? Or is that too much fortune to hope for?" She doesn't touch the Quinjet immediately, but runs her hand parallel to the arc of the wing before dropping back down to the ground. Unlike a landing plane, she doesn't even need to bend her knees to absorb the landing.     "I can look among the rooms and see what suits me best." An agreement signed on a gesture of her hand, sketching the relative direction of the building proper. Those fair locks hold a hazy glow when she shifts. "Let me know what I can do to help. Reviewing the fluids or any other traces will not be too hard to manage. And yes, the Doctor and I go back several years. Our paths braided around one another and no doubt they will in the years to come." That brightening glow is definite, her heliotrope eyes glittering with delight and fondness. "But I cannot tell too many stories of our little adventures and foibles. Not without some strong drinks."
Wanda Maximoff	The kiss given to Wanda's cheek results in a warm smile and a brief touch to Clint's side that says all that needs to be said about the pair. "No, I guess they probably do not. Though I'm sure they must have practical jokes. And I rather suspect if we heard them, we might be standing here with our mouths agape. Like finding out they stuffed a rabid lion in a comrade's room, then laughing at the scratches he came out with?" She might not be too far from the truth. "It does help, I think, spending at least some time living here with the team," she says. "There is definitely a sense of family here that... well, that I didn't even sense when some of a team were more of my actual family," she says. She doesn't speak of those Brotherhood days very often, the allusion to them a rare incident. Wanda takes another sip of her rum and Coke then gets to Clea's question. "We don't know for sure what they were after. Some of the items were things from Loki's invasion, but as many came from other foes we've faced. Things that needed keeping away from public hands," she says. "From what we can gather from what they said, they failed to make it to their target before Thor and Natasha and the others arrived and stopped them. I believe their interrogation is still pending. The Juggernaut got away though."
Clint Barton	The smile is met with one of its own before Clint turns his attention to the conversation at hand. "If Juggy's smart he's told the goons nothing more than they need to know. But on the other hand, how hard is it to giant guy who runs through walls for fun?" He shrugs. "Regardless, who ever sent them has some stones, trying to rip off the Avengers. Not a smart move unless you can be sure it's going to pay off for you somehow." He frowns tilting his head thoughtfully. "We sure this isn't another Loki thing?" he asks. But then to Clint after Loki messed with his mind, the God of Mischief was a possible suspect for just about everything.
Clea	"Oh, as apprentices, you would get more than a few looks. First being why you forgot to lock your door," Clea says, pure as the driven snow and given to stifling a laugh with a little effort. Let the rest remain a bit of a mystery. A Sorcerer Supreme's stories from nascent studies are worth it.     Something to Wanda's telling of family dims the smile a little, the spark in her eyes retreating. Subtle but it's there for someone to see. "Teamwork matters a great deal. I haven't had such a connection since I was a master. It was never possible to stay closed off from the world forever. Too many people require help." Negative emotions don't tend to stick too well to her, and it might have something to do with the peaceful presence around her.     Those details of Loki and stolen items get a cursory nod. "Accounting for the different items would help. The Juggernaut might make a second attempt? Are there other locations that might be targeted to draw his interest?"
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda looks about for somewhere to lean against while she enjoys her drink. She walks over to the airplane and makes due with the side of the aircraft's fuselage. "I don't think we know anything at this point," Wanda says with a shake of her head. "Nothing specific to point to Loki. I don't believe the items in storage were directly his, either, just things taken from the Dark Elves and Frost Giants that fought for him," she says. "Though I could be mistaken on that. Most anything there could be worth a significant sum to the right buyers though, I should think," Wanda adds. "But there was an inventory done, and nothing found missing after they dug out the wrecked part of the building," the Scarlet Witch tells them. "They went through the storage room with lesser items in shipping containers, and Juggernaut was ripping into the larger vaults when they arrived, according to the mission report," she says. "So likely seeking something in one of them. But that still only narrows it down to one of many of the more dangerous or powerful objects," she says. "Very possible he could make another attempt, yes. I'm afraid I don't know that much about him myself. Though our friends up in Westchester know a bit more."
Clint Barton	"True," Clint says about staying closed off from the world. "Does have it's way of getting in if you want it to or not." Then to the items. "Yeah, might be back then if they didn't get it the first time. Like I said, someone must really want it bad if they're willing to take us on to get it."
Clea	"Tearing through reinforced walls and doors, I have to assume?" The Faltine's brow creases in concern. Not much gives away her otherworldly nature on the surface, just the occasional deviation with the norm. Floating an inch off the ground while she crosses her arms, strumming her fingers, is an example. Clea shakes her head a little. "Let me follow up. I might be able to pull some threads and see if they lead anywhere promising. In the meantime, we could discuss putting up a secondary ward in the meantime. It might buy a little time if he or someone else comes around. Anything strong enough to repel a concerted effort is bound to have drawbacks."     She breaks into another smile. "It sounds you looked into it thoroughly. Another reason to stay here, in case a repeat visit causes problems. Or learning whatever you were doing on the jet, practical knowledge never hurts either." Practical doesn't go with her so often, and it brings a brimming laugh. "For my own inner peace, I shall be off to scour one of the rooms and meditate in case clarity comes. Do have a beautiful night."     She's certainly in a bright mood.