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Who: Clint and OPEN
Where: Outside around town.
When: Day 75 - Late morning.
What: Clint's hobbling around and tired of being bed ridden.
Warnings: Probably cursing because Clint doesn't know how to function without any of that.

It's been five days since Clint was plucked out of the forest by Jesse and Ned. He's probably going to have to get those two something to thank them, but he's not sure what the protocol for that is. He can't just give them an arrow and go about his business. Maybe he can teach them how to shoot or something? It couldn't hurt if they knew a skill set or something. Clint's got multiple skill sets, but almost all of them include violence of some sort. Knowing how to defend yourself could be useful in this place though. Maybe he could offer to teach them how to break a man's arm or something simple. Normal people would bake them cookies, but Clint didn't trust himself to not fuck those up royally.

One thing he is certain of though is that he's not going to stay in the attic any longer. He's tired of being in his bed and he's more tired of not being able to really function well on his own outside of his room. He's already decided to take a chance on his own outside when he's sure most of his roommates are out of the house. Sneaking out is hard when you have fresh stitches in your side and bruises all over. His stealth training was helpful, but he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out when he clipped his hip on the edge of a counter going through the kitchen. He made it outside though and just feeling the sunshine on his face was helpful.

His face was still bruised and puffy, but the cuts were cleaned and scabbed over so that took away some of the ick factor that came with them. He was just happy to be mobile and on his own. The pain pill was starting to kick in the farther away from his house he got. Maybe this walk would do him some good.

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If Clint was hoping for a calming walk free of further unpleasantries, he was probably about to be disappointed. Since getting one of his siblings back, Gabriel had been more willing to get out of the house, but since Lucifer was still gone he was stressed to say the least. And sometimes that got taken out on innocent passers-by - not that he wasn't usually a dick to random strangers just out for a walk, but now he was inclined to be downright vitriolic when he ran into them.

"Frankenstein's monster, I presume."

He made a gesture meant to suggest a doff of his imaginary cap.

"You sure you're allowed out of the attic during the daytime, pal?"

He's been called a lot worse than Frankenstein's monster. Natasha has definitely spat some colorful Russian insults his way when they're not on the same page about an operation. He's also worked directly under Fury far too many times to know that he has quite the mouth on him. Clint's not afraid of slinging an insult or two at someone either. It's just his way. Listening to this guy take potshots at his injuries means absolutely nothing to him.

"When I'm a good boy." He's not going to pay the asshole much mind just yet. At least until he really starts to get douchey. "What about you? With a forehead that big I'd imagine they'd wanna keep your under-wraps. Protect the people and all." Well, being semi nice kind of went out the window. He'll at least keep his insults PG for the time being. "Who pissed in your coffee?"

"More room for brains. Plus it looks great in a tiara."

Gabriel's far from unused to insults too. In all honesty, they pretty much constitute friendly conversation as far as he's concerned, and a good insult's far more likely to win someone his respect than a compliment. Besides, insults based on his appearance are pretty meaningless to him, considering that it's not actually his body. That makes it quite easy not to take them personally.

"And what can I say, around this time of the month I'm always cranky. What happened to your face? Were you planning on trick-or-treating, cause it's kind of the wrong time of year for that - or were you just born looking like an extra from Night of the Living Dead?"

"Who doesn't love a good tiara?" There was an incident in Istanbul where he was hammered after a mission, but that's top secret knowledge. Most of the men who were with him were drunk and that meant they didn't remember. Plus Clint intimidated them into forgetting anything about that night and the tiara. He basically threatened to shove the tiara down their throats and then yank it out their asses. No one wanted that to happen so they let the incident go.

More jokes. How hilarious. He's less than thrilled about the Night of the Living Dead jab though. He looks nothing like a zombie and there is no shuffle in his step. "I got kidnapped, jackass." There was no way in hell that Clint would choose to look and feel like this. He'd prefer to be able to put pants on without crying out in pain. "Whoever the hell is running this joint fucked me up and then some. But thanks for asking."

"The Headless Horseman?"

He shrugs, attempting to look as if it's an innocently sincere suggestion. He fails, on account of not being able to look innocent or sincere through lack of practice. The mention of his having been taken by whoever's in charge, though, that stops him short. Clint's human, as far as he knows, and the injuries to him wouldn't show on an angel. But that doesn't mean they wouldn't have hurt, and it's starting to seem evident that some kind of torture is one of the main reasons people are taken: even if 'normal' injuries wouldn't damage an angel too badly, who's to say whoever's doing this wouldn't ramp it up a bit for them? Anna hadn't seemed to remember any of what had happened to her, but even in the absence of physical injuries, she hadn't seemed well. He doesn't like the thought of the angelic equivalent of what happened to Clint happening to her, and he definitely doesn't like the thought that it could be happening to Lucifer as they speak. He pulls a face again - this time unintentionally. It looks a lot less comical and a lot more as if he wants to punch something.

"Any time, pal."

"We'll get him a nice tennis bracelet. I bet he'd look great." Clint didn't remember too much about the incident when he first woke up walking in the woods. It's taken a lot of nightmares for him to even get some sort of sense of what happened. He couldn't remember everything exactly, but they were definitely not sorry for what they did. Whatever they were looking to discover had finished and that's why they dumped him in the woods. He wouldn't wish this on anyone really. Maybe Loki, but he got Clint to kill SHIELD agents and civilians so that got under his skin a little bit.

Clint lifted his hand and pressed it to his side where his stitching was done thanks to Ned. He hadn't done such a bad job honestly. "Is your job to annoy the entire population of this shitty little town? Because if so you are very good at your job, man."

"Thanks for noticing, nice of you to say so. But, y'know, it's really more of a hobby than a job. I just do it out of the goodness of my heart."

His gaze followed the movement of Clint's hand. He could have offered to speed up the healing process, but that would have involved being a decent person, so he didn't.

"How long were you gone?"

"Man, that's devotion right there. Giving this fine place your excellent skills free of charge. You are a saint, my friend. I am in awe of you." Awe and annoyed are the same thing in the instance right? Right. Of course they are. Clint's close to losing his patient, but maybe he'll get lucky and the pill will kick in a little sooner. Maybe. He's not thinking that'll be the case though.

He wouldn't even take the offer if he did turn into a human being. Clint didn't like crap like that messing with his body. Ever since Loki took control of him like that he wasn't about to take some weird medical handout. He didn't want to lose control again. It was not his thing.

Clint had to pause to think that question over. He didn't actually know the proper time frame. He remember things about it, but not how much time passed during his kidnapping. "Weeks I think. I dunno. I woke up walking in the woods not long ago and I was like this."

"Eh. There's already an awful lot of Saint Gabriels. Maybe I should be something else... Archbishop has a nice ring to it."

It occured to him, somewhat belated, that he might have already introduced himself as Loki to this guy. That was how he usually introduced himself, after all, but he supposed it didn't matter. He might have objected to people knowing Gabriel was his real name, but he had absolutely no problem with them knowing he was a filthy liar.

"And are you sure you were kidnapped? Cause that sounds to me like the aftermath of a bender, my friend."

Clint would remember if the guy introduced himself as Loki. He would mostly remember because he would have tried to avoid him completely. He didn't trust anyone with that name. Loki was capable of a million different things and pretending to be someone else doesn't seem that far off course for him. This is actually the first time he's gotten the guys name. It's not something he would expect, but then again he's trapped in a town he can't leave. Everything's a little different.

"Archbishop Gabriel does present you with a shit ton of options down the road. Not to mention it's very original." Clint's had benders. He went on multiple benders after the incident with Loki was sorted out. It was easier to drink than to remember all the people he killed. "I know benders. That was straight up snatch and grab. I've done enough of them in my lifetime to know."

"Yeah. Archbishop, for example."

Not that any Church worth its salt would let him be archbishop - probably wouldn't even let him be a member. Archangel or not, he was hardly a shining beacon of Christian virtue.

"Enough benders or enough kidnappings?" He had a feeling it might be the latter, given the phrasing. "Actually, scratch that, I don't wanna know. You remember much about it? Horrible torment and details thereof? Where you were when you got out, maybe?"

Clint hasn't been in a church since he was a boy. It was his parents funeral and he can remember feeling really scared of the Jesus on the cross wall hanging. After he was old enough he just decided to swear off religion entirely. It was after he broke both his legs and spent all his time with Trick Shot that he decided God couldn't love him. He wasn't going to even try to love God. Once he got into the military it just seemed impossible to fall into religion. He did too many bad things for any of it to seem real.

He wasn't going to answer Gabriel's question. It was almost a relief that he decided he didn't want an answer from Clint anymore. "I remember there was a bunch of guys hovering over me. I don't remember getting out. I don't think I escaped. I think they did what they wanted and then dumped me in the forest wandering. It's all hazy. When I dream about it--I find it hard to remember the details."

Of course, Gabriel would make a terrible archbishop. Apart from the hedonism and the meaningless sex and the being a pagan and the blasphemy, he wasn't exactly big on religion himself. He loved his Father, that went without saying, but only as a parent, not as God. As God, he thought his Dad had frankly kind of screwed everything up: He'd had all the right ideas, but after the Lucifer debacle and then abandoning them all, Gabriel thought maybe God didn't do a great job of putting His plan into action. Even if He had, Gabriel wasn't so sure a lot of organised religion really followed God's actual intentions. Besides, they were all hopelessly serious. Gabriel could never fit in with that lot.

"Sounds about right. No offence, pal, but if you could break out of there when there's been people much more powerful you than you still stuck there, I'd eat my hat. Y'know, if I had one." Which he didn't, but that was the least of his concerns. "You dream about it a lot? Nightmares?"

It wasn't as if finding out the details of people's time with their captors would really help him understand it, of course. He was, ostensibly, looking for anything that could help get Lucifer out of there, help understand what had happened to Anna and Balthazar while they'd been gone, for all that they both seemed to have recovered now. Nothing he'd found out, though, even suggested that getting Lucifer out would be possible - the opposite, if anything. By this point, getting any more details out of anyone was only cementing the knowledge that his brother was being tortured somewhere nearby and there was nothing he could do about it.

Maybe if Clint wanted to thank Jesse and Ned, he could do it in the form of not injuring himself even worse by pushing himself so hard so soon after being injured. He might be able to sneak out successfully, but Ned notices his absence by lunchtime, when he shows up to the attic with a tray of food only to discover that Clint is missing. After he searches the rest of the house, he really starts to worry. In this town, disappearing from you bed doesn't always mean he's probably just gone for a walk. Sometimes it means hope you said goodbye because you're never going to see that person ever ever again.

He doesn't jump to conclusions, or at least, he tries not to. There are plenty of other places Clint could be. It's not a big town, after all. Ned has gone looking for enough people here to have a circuit, now, a path that he can follow to cover the entire area of town, thoroughly. He finds Clint not too far away, near the lighthouse. He looks... not all that good. It's in the way he moves; Ned can tell that he's still injured, still in pain (even if it is masked by drugs). Definitely not ready to be roaming about all on his own.

"If you'd wanted to go for a stroll, all you had to do was ask," he calls, in his best impression of teasing, casual friendliness. There is, of course, that dash of passive aggression underneath it. "I thought you'd gone back to Kansas for a minute, there."

Hoped up on pain meds and determination is what gets him as far as the lighthouse honestly. He probably would have collapsed at the doorstep if it wasn't for all of that. He's not sure if he's happy to see Ned or not. He doesn't really want to go back because he's stubborn and he's determined to go around the entire town by himself. He wants to prove that he's okay. Clint doesn't like losing his control. To be injured like this and confined is the worst thing for a man like him. Not to mention lacking control brings back incredibly distressing memories of being Loki's personal bitch. It all makes him unsettled.

"I knew you'd hunt me down, Ned. You're like a bloodhound." He's not entirely sure if that's accurate, but he found him last time. He was confident that if he did pass out on his own out here that Ned or someone would somehow come get him. He'd probably have to wake up long enough to ask, but they'd notice. If not Ned then Kenzi would bellow it to the entire house and he'd have himself an instant search team like that.

He hasn't bothered to stop really. He's not going fast though. He's barely staying on his feet and the the drugs are kicking in more. He's getting less and less steady. "I'm from Iowa." It takes a moment for it to dawn on him that this is a Wizard of Oz joke. That's embarrassing, but he's just not going to acknowledge it at all. "Seriously--why are you this tall? It's unnatural." Tall people are all he's surrounded by at SHIELD.

Ned isn't sure if the comparison is supposed to be an insult or not, but he certainly doesn't take it as such. He loves all dogs, and bloodhounds are exceptionally talented ones. Besides, he doesn't see what's wrong with being concerned for people and wanting to find them when they go missing. That's just common decency, after all.

Clint doesn't need to stop for Ned to catch up with him, standing nearer than he otherwise would. Normally, Ned is all about personal space, but he wants to be close enough that if Clint that if he starts to fall (which right now, quite frankly, looks like a distinct possibility) he can catch him, and if he decides to lean on Ned, he won't even have to ask. The way Clint's head dips, and the long pause between his sentences, tells Ned that Clint has had some of the pain pills he gave him - the ones he'd gotten from Bruce when he'd run afoul of the Hulk. He remembers what a kick they had. He's impressed Clint can walk at all, considering, much less in a mostly straight line.

"Tallness is my super-power," he says, voice light even as a frown is creasing his forehead. How is he going to get Clint back to the house without him kicking up a fuss? It'd be best if he can make it seem like it was Clint's idea in the first place, or as if Clint would be doing him a favor by doing it. He knows by now that Clint has a streak of pride that he'll need to contend with. It's probably that pride that got him out here in the first place, and it's that pride that will keep him from wanting to head back if Ned is the one to suggest it.

"I wanted your opinion on something," he says, inventing wildly. He smiles as he does, and it's a decently convincing one, all things told. Except now he's painted himself into a corner. Crap. Double crap. What's something plausible he could need Clint's opinion on? Think fast, Ned. "But, uh. It's a surprise. You have to come back to the house so I can show you."

Yeah, that was subtle. Or not.

Edited 2013-06-02 03:35 (UTC)

Ned, this is a master assassin. An ex-sniper for the military. This thing you call being subtle is just not anywhere close. It's like watching Captain America be forced to watch a porno. It was awkward and just weird. He can tell that Ned is trying though and maybe that hits at something inside of Clint. Maybe he'll go back, but it won't be because he was tired. It'll be because Ned seems to be afraid that Clint's going to hurt himself out here alone and hoped up on pain killers. He could actually take a dive here pretty soon if he doesn't watch where he's walking exactly.

"I used to kill people for a living. I infiltrated their life and lied for a living. Why on Earth do you think this is even remotely subtle? Jesus Christ." There's a sharp jab of pain through his side and he's already reaching out to put a hand on Ned's shoulder tightly. He isn't going to acknowledge this at all. Instead he's going to remove his hand and just nod his head slowly in the man's direction. "We'll go only because I don't want you following me around the town with a net or something." He would actually prefer that lumpy attic bed right about now, but he'll be damned if Ned knows that.

He's already started to slip an arm around the taller man. He actually made Clint feel a little bit like a Polly Pocket being played with by a human. It was deeply unsettling. He didn't like it one bit. "You're not as tall as Captain America or Thor. God why is everyone taller than me?"

Ned's eyebrows climb high on his forehead when Clint describes his profession - he's so blunt and matter-of-fact about it, too. He isn't the first assassin that Ned's met here, but it's still shocking, hearing him declare it out loud. Ned really hopes that it's not just the pain medication making him more honest than he'd choose to be otherwise; that wouldn't be fair, and he'd feel guilty later for knowing what he now does about the other man.

Subtle or not, Clint concedes and agrees to go back with him, and Ned is greatly relieved. He stills when Clint reaches out for his shoulder, ready to reach out and steady him but not quite doing it just yet. Clint's hiding it pretty well, but Ned can tell he's in pain. Ned hates that he's in pain. He hates that someone hurt Clint so badly and just dumped him in the woods as if he were an animal.

As the two of them start to make their way back Ned plays along, jokes with Clint. Some people cope with embarrassment and pain in this way, he knows - by being glib and flippant. "Kenzi's not taller than you," he points out, with just a hint of amusement. If he gets a smack for that, it will have been well-earned. Then, he asks, "You know a guy named Thor? Or is that like, a spy name?"

Is Clint's name really a spy name, for that matter? It's a lot more convincing than something like Captain America or Thor, but it just now occurs to Ned that it might not be his given name.

Apparently before Clint showed up here a second time he had blabbed all about his profession to people. Kenzi knew what he did right off the bat. These people knew what he was capable of and he didn't feel any need to hide it from them. He probably would have blabbed about being an assassin no matter what state he was in. Plus the fear factor could come in handy if anyone wanted to try to mess with him. He might not be able to hold his own against the weird flighty chick who popped into his attic unannounced, but humans he'd do just fine against. She took multiple arrows and kept going. It was crazy and kinda frustrating for Clint.

"Kenzi's a pocket person. Jesus Christ. How does that girl get anything done? She can hardly reach the cabinets." He's not exactly reaching the ceiling himself, but she's a lot shorter than him. When he stands next to Kenzi he does feel a little bit better about himself. Makes him feel like he's ten feet tall or something. "Yeah. It's his birth name, man. He's a god actually. Lives in fuckin' space. Some place called Asgard. You know the legend of the dude with the big hammer? Apparently it's a big thing--I dunno. He's got hair like fabio and arms that are as big as beach balls. It's insane."

Sometimes Clint feels a little outnumbered with the Avengers. They all have this capability of impossible strength. Even Tony does, but that's because of the Iron Man suit. Clint's pretty sure that if Tony didn't have the suit he could kick that tiny man's ass. He was taller than Tony now that he thought about it. That little bastard. "You should meet Cap. He's a good dude. Very chill. He was on ice for about seventy years so sometimes he can be a little bit lame and not with the times."

"You know a guy. Named Thor. Who is actually a god. From outer space. With a giant magic hammer. Like the one in the myths?" He's not even gonna touch the whole Fabio hair or muscles description. It's not that he doubt Clint, exactly. He's heard some weird fucking stories from his fellow captives. But this actually might take the cake on unbelievability. Ned had been fond of all kind of mythology when he was at boarding school, so he's not unfamiliar with the names, but the whole alien angle is a new twist. Then again it's a scientific explanation for religion, and he's always been rather fond of those.

"I don't know what that means, 'on ice'." Gradually, the two of them are getting closer to the house, but Clint isn't going to be off the hook when they get there. Clearly he needs a bit of supervision (and, whether he likes it or not, nurturing). He might not be able to speed up Clint's healing, but he can at least make sure that he's well cared-for in the meantime. Part of that job is making sure he doesn't go batty with boredom, locked up in his attic. Ned just assumes the man he's talking about must be an old man, in his 80s or 90s.

"Yeah. He's got a dickhead for a brother and he's got the hots for some scientists or something." He honestly has no idea what Dr. Jane Foster does. All that Clint knows is that when they were in New Mexico she was a key player. SHIELD was a little bit afraid of what she might possibly know. They never realized she had the actual invader in her possession. He also assumed that Thor still had a thing for her. He kind of struck Clint as the type of guy that got a little monogamous when the moment struck.

It's kinda just like it sounds. Frozen stiff. A big block of American ice. Glory glory hallelujah and all that crap. "He was frozen. Crashed a plane and ended up turning into a big block of ice afterwards. SHIELD found him and thawed him out. He did some super serum potion back during that crap with Hitler. You've never heard of Captain America?" He probably sounds loopy, but he's actually extremely lucid when talking about them.

Ned listens to Clint's explanation in attentive silence, helping him up the steps when they get to them and holding the door open. Once again, the things that he is describing sound ludicrous and impossible to Ned, but he tries not to question them, because ludicrous and impossible is sort of the new normal, in this place.

"No, I've never heard of him. But it sounds from the way you're asking like I ought to have." He isn't sure how up to speed Clint is on the particular mechanics of this place, adds as he's shutting the door behind them, "I might not be from your universe. That would explain the discrepancy."

He might not be the most up-to-date person in terms of world news, but none of what Clint is talking about sounds plausible or familiar. What is 'SHIELD'? Why did he call it 'that crap with Hitler' and not just World War II? How many of these things are classified, how many are speech quirks of Clint's, and how many are genuine signs of difference? Ned can't be sure.

From the sound of it, though, Clint's starved for a bit of company and conversation, so Ned says, "How'd you end up knowing all these people?" Don't mind him if he just steers the two of them into the kitchen. He's still got that perfectly good lunch that he made Clint waiting on the counter, and he is going to eat it, by God. Food here is too scarce for any to go to waste, and he needs to keep his strength up if he's going to recover.

He's made sure most of the roommates are outside, but there's one inside that can hear him scuffling around upstairs and his slow trek to the outside. She couldn't blame him for wanting to get out, she understood that inside = completely not fun when you were used to being on your own.

That didn't mean she was going to let the injured member of her household escape without a hidden escort. She slipped out of her window, following him by scent more than sight to keep herself from being seen. She didn't want him to feel like he was being watched, but even though she hadn't actually ever conversed with the guy, he lived in the house she was staying in. He was part of her clan even if neither of them was consciously aware of it.

So she slipped out after him and kept an ear out for any sounds of distress.

Sneaking out of a house that has someone with like less than natural hearing isn't something he was trained for. Sneaking around humans undetected is pretty simple for Clint though. He's been light on his feet ever since his days in the circus. You kind of have to be light on your feet to be an acrobat. Flexible as well, but right now he's not feeling too flexible. He's just feeling exhausted and in a great deal of pain. The longer he wanders around the less he believes this to be one of his better ideas. He should have stayed inside, but that would have been quitting right?

She may be good at knowing when he's bailing or weird crap like that, but Clint knows when he's being followed. He's been with SHIELD way too much not to notice the signs. He's followed people far too much to know when it's being done to him. He's almost too tired to really call them out and address the situation, but it has to be done. Being stalked around town isn't a fun time for Clint Barton.

"I think this is actually considering stalking." He's halted his movement now and he's standing as still as possible. Any sudden movements actually make his body ache more.

She stilled, quietly cursing to herself. She'd never stalked a sentient creature like a person before. Maybe there was more to it than hunting deer or rabbit.

Meekly, she slipped out from behind a tree, looking anywhere but at his face. "No, not stalking. I mean, not with the usual allusions towards it. I mean, I'm not like, taking pictures or perving on you or anything."

She groaned to herself. Way to use your words, Riley.

Clint's pretty good at picking a tail out of a crowd so having one in the forest with trees is actually fairly easy. Don't sweat it, Riley. "Well, it's good to know that I'm not being perved on. I feel so relieved." He hadn't expected to find a girl this young coming out though. This was actually a little bit weird for him. But she was one of his housemates so maybe she was just checking on him. Maybe sent out by Kenzi or something.

"Did ya need something or were you put up to the stalking by Kenzi?" She would use a small girl to do her dirty work. She probably knew tons of them considering she was the smallest woman he had ever seen.

Hey, Riley wasn't that young. Or small. She was 5'7, a perfectly acceptable height for an eighteen year old. Who knows? Maybe she'd grow a whole foot. Then wouldn't you look dumb, Clint. "No, not Kenzi. I, um, knew you were hurt and heard you leaving. I guess I just wanted to make sure you're actually okay and you don't pass out somewhere."

Because she was pretty sure if she'd let Clint pass out somewhere, Kenzi, tiny as she was, might try to do something that would end up in her healing from it and whoops, there went her secret.

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