Clint Barton had been to Las Vegas only once in his life, and that had been work related with very little time for pleasure, but there was no forgetting the neon lights that personified Sin City. The city wasn't quite like he remembered, though, with the glaze of ice coating every surface, freezing the city in place like so many crystalline figures. it wasn't a time for admiring, though, and Clint allowed himself only a handful of moments to look, to take in the sights, before he hit the streets.
Watching and observing were what he was good at, but this required action that he was more than happy to assist with. Clad in a leather coat and black jeans, Clint made his way carefully across the skating rink of a landscape, a momentary slide stopped only by the car stalled on the frozen road. A quick check inside saw that the car was empty, and thus, not a priority. He had heard the news reports, knew there were people trapped, and it was that which he set his sights on.
The sound of the torch drew his attention, turning that way as he saw a figure at work at a car which held obvious passengers. "It'll go faster with two people," he called out before he made his way towards her, a screwdriver in hand to work at the ice with. It wasn't the most ideal tool for helping, but it was a quick find, and he figured that it would do better than his hands or an arrow. The stranger had the heat, he had the ability to crack and chip away the weakened ice.