Now dance, fucker, dance WHO: Clint and Loki WHERE: Sondheim Square Rooftops (caw-caw motherfucker?) WHEN: Thursday Afternoon WHAT: It's been awhile since Clint so rudely demanded his help, so Loki goes to find the Hawk to see what's up WARNING: Clint has poo mouth STATUS: In-Progress
A concerning amount of time had passed along before Loki had realized that Hawkeye had never followed up on his request--request being a demand, actually, a very rude one, for help regarding his metal-armed, coo-coo headed associate.
With nothing but spare time at his hands the would be God supposed he may as well seek Clint out and see for himself what the hold up was. Least he get blamed for the whole ordeal himself. It had happened before so it was sure to happen again. Typical, yet, Loki only had so many places to hide in Marrowood and with things going smoothly thus far he hadn't wanted to put a damper on an otherwise peaceful hostage situation.
Snoop work was simple enough, only Hawkeye was quite the snoop himself, so it took a little extra time finding him. The answer was simple enough to come to when he was nowhere to be found within the Hotel: a perch for the bird.
Using his nifty boots to scale the Hotel, Loki took sight over the town, looking for the itty bitty human hawk. There were a few posts made along the square and further towards the residential. A bit of movement caught his eyes, bounding over like the graceful, nimble youth he was, he made good time to a post above the hall, glancing about the top of the building, knocking lightly against the old shingles.