Clarice & Clint | Saturday Morning

[x-hawkeye.livejournal.com]

After a run, Clint meets Clarice in the kitchen.


Sword sheathed in her back, Clarice rummaged through the fridge looking for a pear. That sounded really good right now, but she wasn't seeing any. Damn it. An apple was the closest option and it wasn't that close. It would have to do.

Even though she was finished with her workout, she still wore the white breeches and jacket the sport was known for, but it was unsnapped along the side so her sports bra peaked out. That was much more comfortable and cooler than keeping it closed. Her helmet and glove were tossed on the nearby counter.

Coming in from a run, Clint hit the back steps near the kitchen and paused to open the water bottle he'd taken with him. He drained it, then headed for the door and wished PD was here - running with his dog was always more fun than running alone, since half the time PD got a little distracted and veered off, finding interesting things. But since Clint was really only visiting and Matt was really only a weekender, there wasn't much point in dragging the dog out here and then having to take him right back.

Opening the door, he stepped into the kitchen and... saw a sword. He gave a slow blink, but in the end, just shrugged because well. He carried his bow and quiver around with him almost all the time and he hung out with a demi-god who wielded a hammer like it was nobody's business. Swords didn't really rate. "Is there any OJ in there?" He asked.

"Yeah. That we have," she pulled out the container and turned handing it to Clint. "Pears we're out of," she added, looking him over. "New here?" He got points for not mentioning or seemingly reacting to the purple.

"Relatively," Clint said, nodding as he accepted the orange juice and went looking for a glass. "My brother's here on the weekends and I'm on vacation, so I'm crashing on his couch." He found the glasses - in the last cabinet where he looked, of course - and quirked a brow. "Want some?"

"Nah," she nodded to her Powerade bottle with the rest of her gear. "Oooh, gotcha. Your brother is... Matt?" She took a guess, knowing it had to be. Except that Matt didn't have family, but he was the only one that matched that description. Damn Frankenberrycat people. She was still going to stab Xorn. "Right?"

"Yep," Clint nodded, closing the cabinet and pouring himself a tall glass of orange juice. "I'm Clint, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Clarice. I'm the PA here," she added. Of course it was Clint. Why wouldn't it be? She had his death certificate hidden away, too. "Are you a mutant? Or just open minded because of Matt?"

"X-gene positive," Clint said, giving her a small salute. She cut right to the chase, didn't she? "It's an eye thing. And a spatial awareness thing."

Not everyone was obvious around here and he was family of a part-time resident. So... these things had to be asked. "I'm purple," she informed him with a grin. "I can talk to radishes, grapes, and purple cauliflower."

"So you wield your mighty blade in defense of purple vegetables? What about potatoes and corn? Or are you not into starches? Are radishes starches?" Clint paused to consider that for a moment, then took another sip of orange juice and asked, "Do you have a secondary mutation beyond the physical one?"

"Bingo," Clarice liked his sense of humor, "Red potatoes, I'm good with. And that maize corn that's not yellow. Sure," she went to get a paper towel to use in lieu of a napkin to get the apple juices dribbling on her chin. "Oh, I can teleport. Beats the hell out of traveling coach and sitting in traffic." But the veggies were clearly more important.

"Nice," Clint said, smiling. "Does it hurt them when they get eaten? I imagine they'd need nerve endings for it to hurt. What's your range on teleporting?" They had a few teleporters on watchlists at SHIELD, just like they had a few of every type of mutation that might assist criminals on watchlists, but he didn't recall seeing her on it. He'd've remembered.

"Uh..." Clarice paused, trying to think, "Well... I've never found a place I can't teleport to. I've never tried the moon for obvious reasons, but I've gone from orbit. So..." she shrugged again, "I'm awesome. I can go anywhere... except the drug store because being purple out there is not so fun."

"Huh," Clint said, tilting his head to the side. "That sounds remarkably convenient. Don't they have image inducers? You could totally teleport to the store wearing one of those. But I imagine that gets kind of old."

"Well yeah, but why should I hide?" she asked, leaning against the counter, "I spent a year basically locked in my house terrified to leave and doing homeschooling because my school wouldn't let me stay and that's before all this M-day and registration shit started up. I'm not hiding. I have nothing to hide. I didn't do anything wrong," Clarice paused, "but yeah. I wear an image inducer to get fucking shampoo because my personal feelings aren't worth exposing everyone here."

"Like I said," Clint motioned vaguely with his glass. "I imagine that gets kind of old." It wasn't like he had anything else he could say - he passed. And he was really freaking good at passing. It'd started to grate on his nerves a couple years ago, the things people said around him because they didn't think he'd mind. He didn't look like a mutant so obviously he wouldn't care if they were talking about what freaks mutants were. But it'd gotten about a hundred times worse after M-Day. "And that sucks. But it's good you've got a safe place to be yourself. I know it's not the same, but I managed a sparring session with my brother the other day where I didn't have to hold back and that... was just. It was nice. So I'm glad you've got this place, if what it gives me is even a percentage of what it gives you."

"Don't get me wrong, I love this place and wish we could open it up to more people who need it," though there were so few left after M-Day. "I just wish it wasn't needed. But M-Day didn't change that need. It just changed how overt we were and how we operate a little," she wasn't going to give some platitude about how others had it worse because while that was probably true, this was still her troubles and she wasn't going to trivialize them.

Clint nodded again. He got it - he did. He just didn't think it was right for him to comment much more since... well. He managed to avoid pretty much all the unpleasantness thanks tot he fact that no one could tell he was a mutant.

"Anyways. Why're you only visiting? You should be here permanent. Or are you actually holding a proper job?" Not that she didn't, but well...it was Xavier's. Things were a little nepotistic in a chosen-family sort of way.

"Agent of SWORD," Clint said, quirking another smile. "They gave me a badge and everything."

"I got a badge, those you can order online. You got handcuffs?" Clarice asked, mostly teasing. "See, you're not legit unless you're cuffing someone."

"We don't use cuffs anymore. Too much bad press. We use those zip ties or we just stun the shit out of people," Clint answered.

"Damn! That's no fun!" Clarice only half meant it, too, "I hate getting stunned. Makes porting a bitch," but less difficult than being nuked. The bar was set especially high after that. "How can you be a government lackey and a mutant with all the registration shit and whatnot?"

"Registration's not a thing yet," Clint pointed out. "People are just lobbying hard for it. And anyway, I was in SHIELD, then SWORD, way before M-Day." He paused, then gave a bit of a hand waggle and said, "Also, some people buried my x-gene test results. My mutation is advantageous in the field and, if it ever breaks, I'm the only person who'll go down."

It wasn't a thing yet, but....it seemed like it would be if given enough time unless something came along to dislodge it. Damn things were like inertia. Objects in motion and all that. "Aren't you special," she teased, bopping his nose, "I like it here better. We all go down together. Preferably taking as many fucktards with us as we can. Hard."

"I'm a special snowflake, yeah," Clint said, laughing. "But I don't sparkle in the sunshine. I'm not a vampire."

That was a good thing for everyone. "If you did, I'd be forced to stab you," Clarice stated, no-nonsense. She had no time for sparkly vampires, "if only for the good of humanity. Everyone appreciates it when I don't stab people. Apparently it's rude?" She disagreed.

"I mean, if they deserve to be stabbed?" Clint offered, eyebrows rising.

"Then it's not that rude," it was all relative. "Sometimes, you just have to do it. The important thing is knowing the difference."

"Word," Clint said, offering Clarice his hand to fist bump.

Bump it and blow it up, yo. Clarice grinned, glad he understood, "I'm gonna go shower. But I'll see you around," she said, taking her cup to the sink to rinse it and put it in the dishwasher. "Don't go arresting people. Or stabbing them without permission."