it's terribly irresponsible they let clint out without a chaperone

[greatatboats]

Who: Clint and OPEN
Where: The bar
When: Day 51 I suppose.
What: Clint found the bar, guys. Who let this happen? Post shooting Anna. He's not sorry for that.
Warnings: Some drinking. Cursing. General Clint antics? I'll update if things get weird.

So far things had been going a little weird. Pretty much nothing made sense, but least a good chunk of the Avengers were actually here. He was a little upset that Natasha was gone, but a man couldn't be picky. Steve was here and he was good at rallying the troops when he had to. Tony was pissed at him, but that was to be expected. Two similar men who were put in the same room. It was a miracle though that neither one had marched over to knock the other one out. Childish antics weren't something the other wasn't familiar with. Being a giant dick was kind of something that came natural to both of them. Things weren't going perfect, but least he had allies. He was going to go ahead and count Kenzi among them because she seemed to know all kinds of crazy crap about him. That must've meant she was his friend in some capacity.

He was wandering today. He needed to find something he could be familiar with. Alcohol was probably the best bet. A bar was a place that Clint could get comfortable in. He made sure to circle the outside perimeter before he even thought about going inside. It was a bar, but that didn't mean it was safe to actually go inside of. He knew nothing about this town except for what Kenzi told him when she wasn't threatening to punch him on various parts of his body. The punching didn't even bother Clint. He would clearly have to teach her how to hit properly, but the fire in her was great. That would keep you alive and safe in a fucked up situation like this one.

It was empty and quiet for the most part. Kinda dark if he was being honest. Then again bars aren't exactly brightly lit places. He wasted no time making himself a drink and finding himself a cozy spot to sit. Maybe this place wasn't so bad. It had booze.

Comments

[venatical]

Apparently the last time Dean was here, he made a habit of going to the bar; it doesn't surprise him really at all, but it does make him wonder who else he might find here. And okay, he's trying to stay out of Crowley's way and every time he leaves the house, he could run into the over-tailored asshole, but he can't stay cooped up in there long. He and Meg and Cas are... weirdly... getting along okay, but sometimes he needs a break from that tension.

So, the bar. He breezes in because it's not the building he's afraid of, but the people, and if Crowley or Lucifer or anyone's here, well, he can handle them once he gets inside. The answer's none of the above though.

"Hey there," he says, heading over to the bar. "Mind a little company?"

[greatatboats]

To be a hundred percent truthful he was escaping his new home. He liked pretty much all of the roommates he had met, but that was a lot of people for Clint. He was used to sharing barracks in the military, but that kind of faded away with SHIELD. He had very small quarters when he was on the helicarrier and he had a rather modest apartment off base. Sometimes he'd share sleeping quarters with someone on an op, but it was never like that. Also he was working with soldiers. Not civilians that talked more than the actual law should allow. A drink was a good chance of pace.

He glanced up from his empty glass when he heard Dean. Clint just nodded his head and motioned to the empty stool next to him. He picked up the bottle he was making his own and poured himself another drink. The guy could find his own glass. If he couldn't then Clint would point him in the right direction, but he was a grown man. He could handle his own crap.

"I hear they got a food shortage, but dammit if they don't have some pretty good booze." Maybe this was their experiment? Take their food away, but give them all the booze ever.

[venatical]

Dean can take care of himself, thanks, and he rounds the bar to check out the selection. Picked over, but Dean can see he'll be living off a liquid diet for a while. And he's more than happy not to have to share with Tall, Dark, and Broody. He pours himself a drink and holds the glass up.

"And the real riots will start when it runs out. Cheers." He takes a drink and then looks Clint over, waiting to see if there's any sign of recognition there.

"So, you know me already or what? I was here before apparently. Don't remember a thing, but some people sure do."

[greatatboats]

Clint's actually relieved to hear the man ask if he knows him. That's all Clint ever gets from these people. They remember him. They talk about how they used to be friends and stuff like that. They bring up things he doesn't even remember and it's frustrating as fuck. The worst part is that he can tell Kenzi wants him to remember. She wants him to know her and to remember the friendship. It actually makes Clint a little pissed off that he could help her out there. None of it makes any sense to him at all.

"Nope. I got the same problem though, man. All I keep hearing is how I used to friends with this person and that one. They're all pretty shaken up about my return. I dunno what's going on." He really did wish that he could just remember like they wanted. Maybe being here would be easier if he could recall their faces and what they meant to him. Clint didn't have too many friends in his world, but maybe it'd be okay to have a few more here. "I'm living with a chick that I'm pretty sure is a nut ball, but dammit if I don't trust her." He did. Oddly enough. He trusted Steve, Tony and Bruce a little more, but oddly enough he did trust Kenzi.

"You got anyone you do know around here?"

[venatical]

Funnily enough, Kenzi's wrapped up in his issues too. He feels like crap for running out on her since it really seems to have upset her, but he doesn't remember being here or leaving at all, and that gnaws at him as much as the guilt over disappearing does too. He's glad someone else has the same problem because it seems like a weird fucking problem to Dean, but he's not really one to whine about shit and it's not an easy situation to explain anyway.

"Same story, man. My first day here, it was like This Is Your Life, only I didn't know half the people who paraded through."

He takes a drink and nods through his second question. "Yeah, a bunch, actually. A couple of 'em I'd call friends. What about you?"

[brittanator]

Britta hears the door from where she's poking around in the back room. Troy doesn't like drinking, and Annie is, like, the worst drinker ever. Which leaves one person.

"Look who the cat dragged in!" she exclaims, coming out behind the bar. She looks in surprise at the man who is obviously not Jeff and points at him, then the bar, then the door. "Sorry. I thought you were somebody else. Um, but hi! I'm Britta."

[greatatboats]

Clint damn near threw that glass at her and rolled for cover. She was a peppy one for sure. Pretty too boot, but he was in a mystery place with a bunch of strangers. Pretty didn't mean much. She could very well be a serial killer or some sort of crazy cannibal. He tended to be a little on guard sometimes in these situations. He'd loosen up eventually. "I figured that out with all the yelling." He's just gonna finish his drink and take that bottle up to pour himself one more.

"Clint." It was nice to meet someone who didn't know him prior to him waking up here. Apparently most of the patrons here were familiar with him and got really pissed at him for going missing. Not even his fault. "So I take it you didn't know me when I was here before? Because everyone else seems to."

[brittanator]

"Uh, no." Her eyebrows knitted together, and though her confusion seemed amused, her eyes still held a touch of fear. Behind the fear? Anger. Because seriously, what sort of people would do this to other people? Britta prided herself on being nonviolent, but these people were cruising for bruisings. And macking for a slapping. Or something.

"I'm new. I've only been here a little over a week. What the hell, though, right? I'm telling you, whoever did this? I'm writing a letter. As soon as I get out of here. I'm going to do something online, too, and get it to go viral." In the meantime, she holds up some sample bottles she'd found in the back. It's painfully obvious why no one else has gotten to them yet - they're dirty and aged, with gunk on the sides. Gunk is a real word, right? Ah, pssh. Yeah. It's gonna have got be to describe that.

"What say I clean these off and we drink to the downfall of Big Brother?" She points at the air somewhere over his head as a witty joke occurs to her. "The TV show and the situation here."

[greatatboats]

Great. At least he didn't have another person telling him what he meant to them and how sad they were when he was gone. He didn't know what to do with that crap. He wasn't an emotional guy by any means and when they talked about how concerned they were by his disappearance he didn't know what to do with that information. It was fucking weird. She seemed weird, but least she didn't have any fucking clue who he was here.

"Right. Cause strongly worded letters are real risky situations. You are a pioneer." He's not trying to be a dick, but writing a letter about something like this is just silly. No one is gonna do jack shit. Least no one helpful. SHIELD however would make these people disappear real fucking quick for taking their people hostage like this.

Clint's not entirely certain if drinking with her is the best idea, but it beats drinking alone. "That is probably the best idea I've heard since waking up in this crappy little town."

[brittanator]

"Don't make fun of me!" she snaps. She rounds the counter to wash the bottles off in the sink. "Look, I know it's not the best, okay? I used to do protests back home. I lived in New York. But this? This place is so not cool." She brings the bottles back and sets one down in front of Clint far harder than necessary. "And I know a letter won't do any good, but what else am I going to do?"

She sinks into the seat across from him and starts trying to get the top off of her bottle. "So yeah, I know I'm not a pioneer. You don't have to rub it in, all right? I haven't even been arrested - not really arrested - in, like, three years. And I've only been tased once in that whole time. So I get it, okay? You don't have to be an ass about it."

She finally twists the top off and glares at him over the table while she waits for him to follow suit. She's not some uncultured barbarian, after all. And she's not going to be the only one here drinking, either.