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Tweak says, "Jane, stop this crazy thing!!!"

clint barton sees better from a distance (tobeunmade) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2012-10-11 22:07:00

Entry tags:

clint barton, meg

Who: Clint and Meg.
What: Drinking. Because that never leads to anything bad.
Where: A random bar.
When: Evening.
Rating: TBD. Possibly high, for language if nothing else.
Status: In progress.

Clint had been in a state of perpetual confusion since arriving in this place. It wasn't even the fact that they were on another planet or world or some bullshit that he was sure Banner or Stark could work out by the placement of the stars or the levels of some thing or another that only they would understand, but that kind of thing was above his paygrade. And, yeah, okay...being kidnapped to some weird place with a fuckton of other people wasn't exactly the least uncomfortable thing to ever happen to him, but he could deal. Combining with that with Loki's presence, Tasha's absence and the fact that Coulson had apparently died and was now walking around in spite of that and causally dropping that fact on him in conversation...well, that was a little bit harder to shrug off. And we wasn't even going to get into the fact that someone had chopped off his hand and replaced it with a robotic one and given him a new tattoo that apparently matched some blonde girl's. No, if he thought about all that together, he'd probably go crazy. Instead, he'd just kept to the air vents for the most part, feeling safer and saner apart from the general mass of people. He'd even made a friend, if you could call sharing egg rolls with a twitchy blonde who also hung out in the vents and made up songs about your robot hand friendship.

Now though, he needed to get out and get some air and clear his head. This would all be so much easier if Tasha was around or Phil was acting more like himself and less like death had knocked something loose in his head but, since she wasn't and he wasn't, Clint would just have to deal another way. As easy as it might have been to go pick a fight with some locals and let violence and adrenaline combat the tension building in him, he didn't want a lecture from any of the others. Instead, he just headed to a whole in the wall bar, going for his less common coping mechanism. He usually wasn't the sort to drink a lot, preferring to stay away from that stuff and the memories it sometimes dragged back to the surface. But these were special circumstances, and he figured he could make an exception to his normal rules. Sitting down, he let his eyes wander over the available options before gesturing for one of the better vodkas. He had a grand, and he could easily get more hustling at pool or darts. No reason to settle for shitty booze.

He knocked back the shot, relishing the pleasant burn as it went down and closed his eyes as he allowed himself to decompress. "Another," he said after a moment. If he kept it up, he might just be able to forget how fucked up his life had become.

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evilbitch
2012-10-12 03:45 am UTC (link)

Meg didn't know what in the fuck was going on, but she wasn't complaining. Considering she'd been back in Hell, with Crowley calling the shots and getting stronger all the time, she was most definitely not upset at all to find herself somewhere else. Mostly because just about anywhere else would have been better. Except for maybe Heaven, but Meg knew that was most definitely not a possibility.

Another planet, however, apparently was not only a possibility, but the reality. Another planet where Lucifer once again roamed free and Crowley was nowhere in sight. If that wasn't a reason to celebrate, Meg didn't know what was. It was just a matter of finding a place to have some fun where the odds of her coming across someone who might pose a problem for her were slim to none. She eventually came across somewhere she thought would work. The atmosphere was one that she could practically feed off of, nevermind the sort of people visiting the place.

And she'd been having some real fun, too, with a couple of guys who definitely weren't the church-going types, when she'd sensed someone who most definitely was not a local step inside. Her smile froze in place as she turned, watching as a guy who apparently didn't believe in sleeves made his way toward the bar. Meg arched an eyebrow, her smile turning a bit more sinister. For a meatsuit, he wasn't too bad looking at all. He'd also pose a bit more of a challenge than anyone else around.

Taking a pull from her beer, she sauntered over to the bar herself, depositing her drink on an empty table along the way. She didn't come right up alongside him, but a few feet further down the countertop. Ordering a shot of the same vodka, Meg tossed it back and immediately ordered another. It would take a hell of a lot more than a few in a row to even let her feel it, but that wasn't her goal. She didn't even drink the second shot right away but instead glanced the man's way before commenting simply, "I can't say I was expecting someone who wasn't a Stepford wife to show up here. This place is one hell of a trip, huh?"

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tobeunmade
2012-10-17 11:29 pm UTC (link)

Clint spared a glance at the woman next to him. Her choice of alcohol spoke in her favor, but that didn't really mean much. Maybe it was just the sort of suspicion that came with being a spy, but his first thought was that she'd only ordered it to match him. Still, she was much more interesting than any of the locals around, and he could use a little conversation. He hadn't been here very long, but already the ground felt like it had fallen out from under him. Hence drinking in a bar. A little bit of distraction in the form of a pretty, sarcastic brunette certainly wasn't something he was going to take a pass on. Sure, something felt a little wrong about it, but he liked a little wrong in his life sometimes.

"That's one way of putting it," he said, gesturing for another shot. When the bartender gave it to him, he held it up to the woman in a sort of 'cheers' gesture, before knocking it back. "Not sure it fully covers how fucked up this all is, but it's definitely a way of putting it." It was nice, talking to someone who wasn't from the team, who didn't know all his issues. There was no worry that she'd ask how he was doing or want to talk about his feelings or how he was dealing with the crap that happened, and that was honestly more of a relief than anything. This just didn't seem like the kind of girl who'd care much about his sob story...hell...she'd probably tell him to grow a pair if he tried to talk about it, and that was exactly what he needed.

Shooting her a grin, he held up his new hand. "On the plus side," he said, "I did get a shiny present out of the deal. Not sure if that's a good thing of a bad thing yet, but hey...who doesn't like something new and shiny?" Yeah, he could be kind of a dork sometimes, but he sort of hoped that the alcohol would cause her to find it charming rather than stupid. "And I got a fucking weird tattoo. Don't know who thought a star in the middle of a sun was something that really spoke to my soul, but...there you have it. What about you? Get any fun surprises out of being here?" He sort of hoped she had a fun tattoo as well. It would lend credence to his and Claire's tattoo conspiracy. Plus she might show him where she had the tattoo, and that would be kind of hot.

"I'm Clint, by the way," he said after a moment, then gestured to her drink. "Can I get you another one of those?"

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evilbitch
2012-10-22 08:09 pm UTC (link)

Okay. The guy apparently had an anti-possession tattoo, if his description of the design was anything to go on. That was unexpected, not to mention pretty damn intriguing. Not the fact that he had one, of course. It wasn't incredibly common, but it wasn't unheard of. No, the intriguing part was that he seemed to have no idea what the tattoo even meant. Which either made him the worst hunter in the history of ever, or something else was going on. Meg wasn't sure which, but she looked forward to finding out.

Shaking her head, Meg tossed back the second shot and set the glass on the counter. Running a fingertip along the rim, she replied, "No, I can't say I have any tattoos or new body parts. Just this old sack of bones of mine." She then grinned when he introduced himself, and asked about buying her a drink.

"Name's Meg," she responded, "and I'm definitely not the type of girl to turn down a free drink." Eying his hand for a second, she slowly raised her gaze back up to his with her smile turning into bit more of a smirk. "Could be worse," she drawled. "At least it's not a hook. And there are some girls who really get off on the whole artificial limb vibe."

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