poly_chromatic | [ 010 ] ♐ [ Text ]

[A smirk lifts the corner of her lips quick and fleeting at the face he gives her. She sits and reaches over to open the bottle and pour them each a glass.]

I thought as much. [She offers him a glass.] You're in luck, Barton, the wait is over.

[ He puts on a show of wetting his lips, leaning forward to carefully take the glass from her, and doesn't hesitate to swallow down a large gulp. ]

Knew I could count on you, Tasha. Always could. [ He's not pushing for details if the answer is yes, but he adds teasingly all the same; ] You got a good excuse?

It helps to have someone around you can count on.

[She drinks hers down, just as quickly and reaches for the bottle to pour them each another. She half wonders how long it'll be before they just forego the glasses and start passing the bottle back and forth.]

Not as good as yours.

Can't fault that logic. [ He raises his glass at that, smiles, because there was a time when she didn't quite know or understand what it was to have someone there to back her up. She's come a long way.

He usually paces himself, makes sure he doesn't drink too much too quickly so he can keep a grasp on his situational awareness. But right now? He doesn't give a damn.

He knocks the next one back. ] Important thing is that you've got one.

Well, you can, but you'd probably end up hurt. [She's not as young as she used to be. She's learned form experience.

No worries there, she'll keep an eye on him. He can let loose, she'll be on point.]

At least, now our silent brooding isn't for no reason at all.

Edited 2012-11-14 02:36 (UTC)

True. [ He flashes her a fond smile that's only slightly mocking, and if he weren't being lazy about it he'd be rolling his eyes.

He shrugs, helps himself to the bottle this time, pouring himself a double and passing it over. ] Hey, speak for yourself, I don't brood.

[She returns the look, with they eye roll he was missing.

Setting her glass down he turns to lay out on her back on the couch with her head in his lap. Have your drink Barton, she's just going to chill here, and keep you from doing anything dumb once you get further into that bottle.

She laughs softly, looking up at him.]

I could do an impression, but I don't feel like moving again right now.

[ All things considered, Clint doesn't mind her draping herself over him, but it does mean that escape is impossible; if he so much as tries, he doesn't doubt that she'll use force to pin him down and keep him in place.

He knocks back the drink, once, twice, and the glass is empty. ]

Dangerous thing to impersonate an assassin, it's what gets people killed if you catch them in the wrong mood.

[She would, simply for the fact that in all honesty, they both kind of need someone who understands them and how they think right now. So, letting him loose to possibly wander around and risk some stupid misunderstanding or worse, is not an option in her mind right now.

She grins up at him and takes his empty glass replacing it with her half full one.]

Thanks for the tip, I'll try to keep that in mind. [She's more serious for a moment.] Have you eaten today?

[Because she is worried about you, believe it or not. You're the closest thing to 'normal' she has around here.]

Other forms of alcohol don't count. [A beat.] Careful of your answer, I'll know if you're lying.

[ He arches an eyebrow as the glass is taken from him, but turns from judging to amused as soon as the other is put in its place.

He doesn't hang around, tipping it back and swallowing it down, eyes closing for a moment as he enjoys the burn of it on the way down. ]

Spies. Can't live with 'em and can't live without 'em. [ With a glance to the bottle and his empty glass in hand, he smirks. ] Depends. Are you trying to get me drunk here? 'Cause lack of food won't help that much.

Might be.

[She keep her eyes on him.]

Might just be worried about [losing] you. Need to look out for each other right?

Edited (because I fail at icons and eeww. Re: moval. ) 2012-11-14 20:20 (UTC)

[ He drops the act, the humour masking everything falling away, because, let's face it, he's not doing a good job of it anyway and he knows it.

So he shrugs, thinking of eating and making a face. ]

Not much in the cupboards, and I didn't really feel like fighting any fires.

You don't have to eat if you don't want to.

[This is better, it's honest...she prefers honest.]

I'll go shopping tomorrow then, for now let's pace yourself okay? I understand you're upset, I don't pretend to know details, I don't need them... But we have all night...

[ He appreciates that she's concerned as much as he does the fact she's not pushing, and it makes him feel more at ease with her, with them, relaxing into the couch more, fingers absently brushing over her hair that's spread over his thigh. ]

Did he...tell you anything? [ He rarely hesitates, and he sounds vulnerable, but he's curious for several reasons. He doesn't want to go against Coulson's wishes and fill her in on more than he might have wanted, but he's also curious as to whether he said anything to her that he didn't to him. ]

[She does her best, at least as far as the bulk of their personalities go, he isn't that different from what she knows of him. She relaxes against him when she feels some of the tension ease out of him.]

No, he didn't. Nothing more than you've mentioned. I spent a little bit too much time the last few weeks avoiding people.

[ He huffs a laugh that doesn't quite make it out because he should have known, realised how hard it was on her to get here, to adjust to everything. ]

Yeah, it's definitely a culture shock to land your ass here, so I don't blame you for that one.

[It has not been easy, which is why she's here sprawled out across the couch sipping alcohol that doesn't effect her. Because she likes the quiet calm of this apartment and not being out somewhere loud, with people.

If she were a different kind of girl she'd tell again how much she appreciates him letting her stay there. Or how much she appreciates him not asking her a thousand questions.

But she's not the sort of girl who gets...sentimental, or expresses herself like that, but then again her willingness to take care of him when he needs someone should be enough for him to know that she's there for him even if she ~~won't~~can't say it.]

It is, I'm adjusting. I'm not exactly very social anyway, unless it's necessary for a job.

[ He knows her well enough, in any form, to know without hearing it that she's thankful for it, that she wouldn't be there if she didn't want to be, if it wasn't what she needed; she does her own thing, the same way that he does, and they do what they need to in order to survive, to get through day by day. So she might not say it, the same way he doesn't say a lot of things, but he knows all the same.

He reaches over to put down the glass and snatch up the bottle, flicking off the loosely screwed on lid and takes a swing. ]

Really? 'Cause I never noticed. [ He's mocking, it's easier to be playful and teasing than deal with their baggage. ] Found yourself a job yet?

[Lucky for them they get each other.

She rolls her eyes at him in response to the teasing.]

Hey! I went out on Halloween, for all the good that did me.

[Nothing really terrible happened, but it was definitely an experience.]

Yep.

Not the best first attempt, but that's what we get with our fun little curses. But, hey, it's not all bad here. [ Or, at least, it wasn't. He hated it, tried everything to find a way out, and then Phil arrived and he stopped, didn't care to leave anymore. ] Well, it's got its moments.

[ He takes another swig, and then another, and passes the bottle over. ]

I might argue that it is, but it's not that bad right now.

[She takes the bottle, sits up a little to take a long drink, before offering it back to him and resting her head back down on his leg.]

Edited (how do I not use the 'oh face' icon?) 2012-11-14 23:45 (UTC)

From down there? Nah, it doesn't look so bad. But don't expect to use my lap as a cushion every day.

[ But, really, he wouldn't mind an awful lot if she did, and he's quite happy to take the bottle back, taking a large swallow from it and groaning as he gets too much on his tongue, scrunching up his face. ]

Okay, not everyday just most of them..

[Hell, she wouldn't mind if she did either, and she laughs at him when he pulls the face.]

You need to slow down, Clint. It'll last longer.

Edited (because how do I journal switch?) 2012-11-15 19:07 (UTC)

[ In rebellion, Clint pours another generous amount down his throat, ignores the attack on his senses this time, and grins at her mock innocent. ]

No one said anything about making it last longer. [ But he's feeling the numbness around the edges, head feeling a bit lighter, limbs a little heavier, and although he's still a long way off, he's getting there, the lack of real food in his stomach helping him along. ] You know, I don't know if you've noticed, but Fury's been evil eyeing you from the corner since you stole his spot.

[She meant the numbness, not necessarily the alcohol itself.

Glancing over at the dog she huffs a breathy laugh and looks back up at Clint.]

I'd noticed. [She taps him lightly to get him to give her the bottle again.] I hope he'll forgive me later if I get him some bacon, and not maul me out of jealousy one night while I'm sleeping.

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