Clint Barton likes to keep a full (quiver) wrote in rooms,
Re: Quicklog: Bobbi and Clint at Bobbi's apartment
[Demanding. That's what she was. It was Sunday and he wanted nothing more than to stay inside, watching the backlog of Dog Cops that had built up on his DVR. But no. Pizza was demanded, which meant his presence was demanded, along with his dog's. There were quite a few people that he might have flat out said no to, but Bobby? Yeah, she wasn't one of them.
So there he was, greasy pizza balanced in one hand, Lucky's leash around the other, standing in her doorway when she finally opened the door for him. In contrast to her festive attire for the 'big game', Clint was dressed in his usual: beat up blue-jeans, purple converse, a white t-shirt that had seen better days, and an old leather jacket thrown over all of it. Fashion wasn't his thing. He just didn't see the point to it.
Lucky perked up at the smell of some strange dog inside and immediately started pulling at the leash.] Whoa. Settle your fuzzy butt down before I tie you outside. [Which he wouldn't. You didn't tie up a dog that you had rescued from near-death, after all. So Lucky tugged and Clint shoved the pizza towards Bobbi.] Happy Super Bowl Sunday to you too. [It was said lightly, not quite looking at her, and when she stepped aside to let him in, he didn't hesitate to do just that.
Her place was cleaner than his by a large margin, and with a ton of new things to smell, which Lucky set about doing to save him the hassle. He glanced back towards her, the high ponytail, and yeah, she was pretty much like he remembered last time he had seen her. They may have been divorced, but that didn't mean there wasn't still something there between them.]
Sorry if the pizza's cold. I got it here as fast as I could. Traffic's a pain right now and- yeah.