xp_logs | Dial My Number || Jane calls Clint

After Darcy leaves Jane a voicemail, Jane contacts Clint to see if he has somewhere safe for Darcy to crash.

Clint was mostly asleep, nodding off where he was wedged into the corner of the couch. And then his phone went off, some kind of trumpeting instrumental of epic proportions which startled him so badly he very nearly propelled himself over the back of the couch and onto the floor. Thankfully, his brain engaged a moment later and he grabbed for his phone, sliding his finger across the bottom of the screen to answer it. "'lo, Jane," he mumbled. "'sup?"

"Agent Barton, it's 4 o'clock in the afternoon," the woman on the other side of the line playfully chided him. "Were you sleeping?"

"Yes? Wait, no. Is that gonna get me lecture? No. No, I was definitely not sleeping, Doctor Foster."

Clint received a small chuckle in response, which suddenly changed to high-pitched squealing and giggling. "Stop, I'm on the phone! Ahem." It was clear even over the line that her face was beet red. "Clint, I have something important to ask you. I . . . stop! I'm halfway to rebuilding Bifrost in my kitchen and I will send you back myself, I swear to G . . . your father."

Cracking up, not even bothering to try to hide the fact that he was laughing at her, Clint just shook his head. "Hey, hey - tell Thor the first round's on him next week, alright? It's definitely his turn. Oh, and if you're really halfway to building your own rainbow bridge, I still want in on that. Hook a guy up."

"You both can be my test subjects," she threatened, "it'll be win-win for me. Anyway. Darcy Lewis, you remember her? My undergrad assistant with very loose ideas of what science is and what are appropriate teacher-mentor boundaries? She, uh, found some trouble. Not even her own fault, this time."

Sobering, Clint pulled himself out of the corner of the couch and said, "Yeah, I remember her. Smart enough not to accept a drinking challenge. Bombshell in the classical sense. Great sense of humor. Excellent at Poptarts. What's up?"

"Do you have a computer or tablet handy? Google her name. You'll see."

Clint hadn't kept up with Darcy since she wasn't in his usual sphere of interaction, but it didn't take him more than half a minute to figure out what was going on once he'd booted up his laptop. "Ho-ly shit," he muttered. "They doxxed her. I mean, the rest of it's bad enough, all the anti-mutant stuff, but wow. They wasted no time shoving her personal info out there." He trailed off, a frown sliding into place. "And of course the news stations are making it worse." Shutting his laptop, he leaned back against the couch cushions and asked, "What can I do to help?"

"She needs a place to stay. Somewhere safe, for a little while, until this blows over. She wanted to go to Asgard, of course, but . . ." There was no mirth to this laugh. "I didn't know who else to ask, Clint. You know how SHIELD is about mutants. Can you help?"

Looking around his room, Clint's smile lacked any real amusement. "Yeah, I can handle that. Got a... fair bit of experience with SHIELD's mutant policies, so. I got a place she can crash, no problem."

Jane sighed in relief. "Clint, you are a gods-send. Thank you so much. I'll send her your way."

"Hey, no problem. Just pass my contact info along to her. We can arrange a pickup or whatever else she might need," Clint said, scrubbing a palm over his head as he worked out who he'd need to talk to about what and when to make this all happen. First thing, though, he needed to find out what Darcy wanted to do.

He found some of the grimness of the situation fading, though, as he listened to Jane's attempts to hang up before Thor's declarations about beers could get down the line. Obviously, Jane hadn't been quick enough.