Who: Clint and Wanda What: A fish heist! When: A couple of days after the hubbub in 8. And his drunken planning Scott and Wanda and his sober but still pretty ill-advised planning with Scott Where: Geyser, 6:00 am Warnings: Uh. Stealing?
Admittedly, this was probably not the greatest idea. Clint knew that as well as anyone, but he was absolutely bound and determined to do it anyway because why the hell not. The worst case scenario, he figured, was that he and Wanda would be in the press for a couple days, they'd get slapped on the wrist, but not in any meaningful way because the hadn't been doing anything that Stane particularly disapproved of, and then they'd go on with their lives.
And, theoretically, they'd get fish out of it. So, really, it was a win-win. (It had not occurred to Clint that if they got caught they'd probably have to return the fish, but that was an issue for a different time.) He bounced on the balls of his feet at he waited for his co-conspirator to arrive. They'd done a bit of planning through texting and email -- Clint had sent her schematics and told her the result of his having cased the place the night before, under the guise of a night out with one of the Capitol girls who sometimes liked to be seen going home with him.
Six, he'd decided, was the best time to be there -- all the bars and nightclubs had closed an hour ago and their drunks had stumbled home. The cleaners, he'd discovered, wouldn't arrive for another two hours, which left them a pretty good window. He was dressed from head to toe in black -- perhaps a little over the top, but hey, it was an opportunity to dress for the occasion, and even now, nearly twenty years after his Games, he still rarely got to dress himself to go out in public without some stylist's approval. And even he had to admit, he made a pretty cool profile in the mirror at home, his bow slung over his back, grappling arrows filling his quiver. As he waited, Clint perched on some crates by the service entrance, re-inspecting his many tubs of water to double-check that they were airtight.
Because Wanda was basically a genius at dealing with technology, they'd decided that part of her job would be to design some code or chip or some... technological witchery to get the service entrance open, and Clint had great faith that she'd come through. When she appeared, Clint grinned down at her, hopping off his crate soundlessly, light on his feet as he ever was. "Hey locksmith," he murmured to her. "You got the stuff? Can you get us in?"