xp_logs | Amanda & Clint | Wednesday Evening (backdated)

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Clint fixes Amanda dinner and they talk about a lot of things, but mostly weird shite.

Clint wasn't sure when Amanda would be coming by, so he'd just propped the suite door open with a shoe and started throwing ingredients into a pot. Chili was delicious and easy. If she didn't like chili, at least he had beer and stuff to make a sandwich. He wasn't exactly sure how this whole 'tell somebody what you can about your job with a sort-of-but-not-really-secret government agency' thing was gonna go. It wasn't like Scott had asked very many questions, but given what'd happened in Romania... well.

He'd have to tread carefully. Fair was fair.

The invitation had come as a surprise, to be honest, but Amanda wasn't one to turn down food. Especially home-made food that wasn't one of her hot breakfasts-for-dinner. Seeing the door propped open, she made her way in, pausing to knock on the wall by the kitchenette.

"Hello? I come bearing decent English beer?" She held up the six pack enticingly.

Sticking his head out of the kitchenette, Clint waved. "C'mon in," he said, disappearing again. "I stole some of Matt's IPA's, but yours are probably better. Or at least more to my taste."

"Rule one of anything - you can never have too much beer," was Amanda's easy reply as she came into the kitchenette. The beer she put on the counter - you never served Old Speckled Hen cold, after all - and perched herself on one of the stools on the side away from where Clint was cooking. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting a dinner invite. Thanks for not making me have to cook my own food tonight."

"No problem," Clint said, offering Amanda a smile. "If it's not a one-pot thing or breakfast, though, I'm pretty much SOL. I eat a lot of take-out." Pulling open a drawer, he found a bottle opener and tossed it to her. "I feel like we might've gotten off on the wrong foot when I first got here, and I wanted to offer an olive branch. An olive branch made of chili and beer."

"The best kind of olive branch, the edible kind." Amanda opened a couple of bottles, sliding one over to him. She raised her own to her lips and took a sip, savouring the taste. And perhaps making him wait on her next reply, just a little. "I was probably a bit short with you myself, but you can probably understand my situation. Random new guy starts demanding to know things about magic, when most people don't even know it exists. Fuck, most of the time people think I'm delusional when I mention what I do."

Clint grinned at that, leaning back against the counter near the stove so he could keep an eye on the chili as he took his first sip of beer. "Mm... hazard of working for SWORD. Or at least of hanging out with Thor sometimes. Science and magic, magic and science. I was pretty abrupt when I got here, so I didn't ask the right questions. Or at least didn't ask them the way they ought to've been asked. Sorry for that."

Amanda's eyebrows went up. "SWORD? Magic SHIELD group? Run by the green-haired bitch from hell?"

"C'mon, you guys have a file on me, I know you do," Clint said, laughing a little at Amanda's expression. "SHIELD, then SWORD thanks to Doc Foster. But yeah. Brand's not that bad. She did relegate me to Alaska, though, after I... sort of... broke my partner's nose when he tried to shoot Billiam, so. There was that."

She poked out her tongue. "All right, most of that was faked. But seriously, 'not that bad'? You really need to talk to Garrison about her. They were partners, back in the FBI before she got the SWORD job." She snorted. "And what I've seen of her, she's not exactly soft and cuddly."

"Sure, but she could've just outright fired me," Clint said with a shrug. "She didn't. She just... had me inventory a warehouse full of 0-8-4's. Which is where our delightful Atlantean King was stuck in a tube for a few decades."

"Yeah." Amanda wrinkled her nose. "You had the research on that - they ever try to... I dunno, see if they could open it? Let him out? Or was it just easier to leave him stuck in there napping away his life?"

Clint tipped his head side to side before taking another sip of beer. "Thing was, back when they found the tube, they didn't have the right... not tech, I mean there's always been a Stark around, so tech's never been a problem. But they couldn't figure out the symbols on or the alloys that made up the container itself. There was no telling what was in the tube. Just that it was vaguely humanoid. And it had a self-contained power source, so without understanding how all of that fit together, trying to open it or interfere with the power ran a really high risk of catastrophic failure.

"So they stuck it somewhere out of the way, planning to check on things later. But the guy who was originally in charge of the project proposal died in an explosion at a lab in Idaho, and everybody else forgot about it," Clint shook his head at that. "Bureaucracy and red tape are a pain in the ass. Part of the reason they had me up there was actually to see which 0-8-4's SWORD should start investigating again. A lot of stuff got mothballed by SHIELD because it was 'weird.'"

"Bureaucracy and red tape." Amanda sighed and shook her head. "0-8-4s." Her tone was slightly bitter. "Sorry, I've had issues with the government for most of my life - I'm not a big fan of the whole 'treat magic like science' thing. Especially when there's the possibility Director Brand might decide it's time I went into the collection. Or one of my kids."

"Which is why she wasn't in the know about me being a mutant," Clint said, shrugging. "Which is, I think, where things started getting contentious with her. Lying's never fun. But... I don't know. Less than ideal situations all around. If it makes you feel any better, pretty sure Brand wouldn't actually be able to keep you locked up. Not with all the backup you've got."

The witch snorted. "Yeah, I'd like to avoid the Trenchcoats and the leather brigade going to war against a government agency. Might make things tricky as far as the whole mutant sanctuary goes. So I'd appreciate you don't mention me and the kids when you're having drinks with the Thunder God." A slightly wicked grin crossed her face. "Too bad, I wouldn't mind another crack at him."

Clint laughed a little. "I meant more... Clarice can zip in and zip out. No problem. Quick and quiet-like. But I wouldn't mention this place, anyway. Coulson, at least, is working to keep people from doing too much snooping into my whereabouts. Says he's naming his stomach ulcer after me."

"Well, there's that, at least." Amanda took a long swallow of her beer. "Do you trust him? This Coulson?"

"Implicitly," Clint said, nodding firmly. "He was my handler for most of my time with SHIELD. He and Fury buried my x-gene test results - and neither of them canned me when I brought Tasha in, rather than taking the kill shot I was supposed to take. He's the one I turned the Lemurians over to, once we had them contained."

"Sounds like Gar's FBI bloke, Fred." Amanda's tone was thoughtful. "What's the reaction to you and the Widow moving in here? Fury doesn't seem the type to let assets just wander off."

"He's not," Clint said, quirking a smile. "I agreed when I left SWORD that, if I happened to come across anything that was particularly threatening, I'd give them a heads up. Told Scott that when I was doing my debrief here. So they got the Lemurians and the assurance that the thing that opened the wormhole wasn't going to be opening any others. I also let Coulson and Tasha in on this Mother stuff, which I know J's been giving you guys updates on. Warned them to keep their distance, more than anything else. I'm not even sure, given what J thinks is going on, that SWORD would be able to handle it."

"So it's a mutual benefit thing." The witch wasn't 100% comfortable with the idea that the government had that kind of foothold in the mansion, but then again, the FBI had the same thing with Gar. And the Hellfire Club was worse than either, and half of her own team were members. "Yeah, keep them well clear of this Mother thing. As much as I think Brand is a cu-- er, bitch, I don't want to see her and her people slaughtered. This is serious fucking bad news."

"Oh, I believe it," Clint said nodding again. "Never seen anything quite like the guy using his own elongated fingers like a flail. A flail that dripped methylmercury everywhere. Not entirely sure what the fallout from Romania's going to be, it's too soon to really tell. But frankly, considering Tasha didn't blow her own cover, I think both Coulson and Fury will have a vested interest in getting things at SHIELD figured out before they worry too much about anything else. And I left in disgrace, so."

"Because demons aren't enough on their own, now we have super-improved mutant demons." Amanda pulled a face and finished her beer. 'And a possible leak in the super-spy organisation. Fucking brilliant,' was her unspoken thought. "If we're going to be talking about those fucks, I think we're going to need more beer."

Grinning, Clint tipped back his beer and finished the rest of it all in one go. "I definitely do not disagree," he said. He snagged Amanda's bottle along with his own and put them both in the sink, then picked up a large spoon to stir the chili and pulled the top off. "It's all kinda fucked, right? Do people who get possessed usually have weird physical changes, too? Like, I don't know what the finger thing would have to do with mercury, y'know? And aren't secondary mutations usually sort of complimentary?"

"Possession's not consistent, but there's usually some kind of downside - skin sloughing off, cracks appearing in the body, problems with controlling arms and legs and such. But the Disciples don't show any of that, which is pretty bloody unfair in my book." Amanda uncapped two more beers and pushed Clint's within reach. "Humans are made to be meat suits for demonic energy, so there's usually some wear and tear. Might be that the mutant thing is interacting with whatever kind of demonic energy this Mother's passing on, but we've had plenty of our own get possessed without it, so I'm buggered if I can explain it. As for the secondary mutation... not always. Emma's got two - the telepathy and the diamond skin - but she can't use her telepathy when she's diamond. So the second one can be as much as a grab-bag as the first, from what I can tell." She sipped her beer. "Then again, I'm not a geneticist."

"Not my branch of science," Clint said with a shrug. "I've got the eye thing and the reflexes thing and the whole... awareness of everything thing." Putting the top back on the pot, he set the spoon in the little spoon holder on the stove and then reached for his beer. "I definitely didn't see Fingers sloughing off any skin or anything. I had trouble staying ahead of him. And he wouldn't stay down. I put the entirety of multiple clips in him and they did nothing."

"I hate it when things don't stick to the rules," the witch grumbled, then snorted. "Yeah, I know that sounds hypocritical with the magic and all, but I've spent years studying this shite and these bastards contradict everything. It's so fucking annoying, especially since I can't help folks like you and Jennie deal with them."

"It's unnerving, y'know?" Clint said, shaking his head. "Shooting a man full of lead, watching him bleed black, and then act like the bullets were nothing more than bug bites or whatever. I want a better idea of how to take them down than 'behead them and burn their bodies.' Cause Jesus, beheading those guys will be fucking hard."

"It'll be harder if they get hold of this Eye thing," was Amanda's less-than-optimistic response. "Maybe we can set them on fire first, then behead them?"

"More than willing to give that a shot," Clint said, raising his beer to Amanda. "I'll just have to make sure I've got my bow next time. Trick arrows -- so much easier to make things explode with... unless J sucks all the luck out of everything again, which is a thing that happened in Copenhagen."

"She lucksnapped? Those suck," Amanda agreed. "Having probability manipulators is handy, but there's only so far they can push things before fate or physics or whatever smacks back."

"I dunno if that's what she called it," Clint said, laughing a little. "I tripped on nothing. Literally nothing. And my mini bomb fizzled rather than exploding. Gun jammed. But she did manage to squeeze out enough luck to keep me from getting mercury poisoning, which was very appreciated. Overall, having her along was pretty great. But Wanda in Romania was a thing of beauty -- I caught a piece on the news about the facility exploding."

"Yeah, that's a lucksnap. It's a bit like the whole "what goes around, comes around" saying," Amanda explained with the air of someone who had seen it happen more than once. Her air of experience was comical, considering how young she looked with her hair in two braids and her knees poking out through holes in her jeans. "It's a magic thing too, except we have to worry about motive more. Luck users... there's a balance, see? You tip things too much one way, and the universe tries to balance it back out by doing the opposite. So if Jennie uses too much good luck, things start going wrong around her because she's put things out of whack. Wanda's powers are a bit different - she told me once she sees probability as strings, and she pulls on certain ones to make things happen - but she gets the same. Too much yanking on a particular string, and she gets push back from another."

"Cause and effect," Clint said, nodding a little. "I get that. It's logical. Can't tip the scales too far one way without it showing on the other side." He quirked a smile. "It sucked, but I'm glad she did what she did. Otherwise... well." Checking the chili again, Clint considered it, then sat his beer down and headed for the refrigerator. "You have any questions about SWORD or anything? If I can answer, I will. Within, y'know. The bounds of confidentiality and non-disclosure agreements." Pulling a bag of shredded cheese and a container of sour cream out, he walked back toward the stove.

"I'm going to guess that's going to make most of my questions impossible to answer, then." Amanda's tone was wry. "Since I"m pretty sure they don't let you tell me just what sort of magical shite they have on their books, and how many actual magic users are on the team. I'm pretty sure at least one of the agents I saw in Manhattan when Tandy's personal demon came to town was a magic type. Young woman, Hispanic, kind of cute in the serious agent way?"

"Aw, Ortiz," Clint said, grinning. "I can neither confirm nor deny that there are any SWORD agents with magical potential or power. Also, no. Not allowed to tell you what kinds of magical things are on file. I can tell you that SWORD rapidly expanded its range of... not interest, but its list of incident types that it'll look into, which means it's compiling a pretty diversified database. The department's only been around since 2012, so it's young, meaning most of its agents are young. That said, as a subdivision of SHIELD, it gets access to all of SHIELD's digital and hardcopy records, archives, and storage facilities."

While he spoke, Clint reached for a cabinet and opened it, pulling down a couple bowls. He opened a drawer to grab some spoons, then filled them both with a healthy helping of chili. Offering one to Amanda, he continued, "Which just... as implied, is a mess of 'what the hell, I have no idea what this thing does, stick in a box and make it go away.'"

She took the bowl, sniffing the steam appreciatively. "Smells like it's got a kick, at least," she said approvingly. While she preferred Indian type spices due to her Englishness, she'd expanded her repertoire over the years to include Mexican, Cajun and the American obsession with chili. "You know, our Weird Shite division's been going on since 2006," she continued, blowing on a spoonful of chili before tasting it. "'f course, I was only 19 and it was Wanda and me from scratch." The last sentence was slightly muffled by a mouthful of hot food.

Clint laughed a little, dumping some cheese and sour cream into his chili before he really dug in. He paused a moment to turn the stove off, then went back to leaning on the counter near where Amanda sat. "I wouldn't mind taking a look at your records," he said, smiling a little. "And I sort of... tripped into SWORD. Science is my jam. Doc Foster legitimately ran into me -- she's working on the Bifrost. Einstein-Rosen Bridge. I saw what she was reading and pretty much didn't look back."

"I might have to draw up my own confidentiality agreement before you get at those," she replied wryly. "There's stuff there I'd rather not the government gets its mitts on." Especially considering some of the sources she preferred to keep out of SWORD's hands. "But it might happen, 'specially if you make me food."

"I'm not slipping anybody any intel that's not potentially life-threatening," Clint offered. "The mansion's secrets are the mansion's. I'm here for a few different reasons; the Professor's been kind enough to let me stay. I don't want to betray anybody's trust, y'know?"

Amanda considered him over another heaping spoonful of chili. Whatever she saw in him seemed to be agreeable, because she nodded. "Fair enough," she said. "I can't promise full run of all of the Trenchcoats' stuff, but I've got a few things I can let you look at. For a start, yeah?"

Clint smiled. Picking up his bottle, he offered the bottom to Amanda for a clink. "Prost. To good starts."