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xp_logsClint gives Marie-Ange some intel and takes on an assignment... (Backdated.)
One hand in his pocket, the other holding a cup of coffee from Coffee of Doom, Clint leaned back against the wall near the door. His breath frosted in the air and he was glad of both his beard and his beanie as he waited for Miss Colbert.
Marie-Ange walked right past Clint, into the shop, without even making eye contact. She popped out a few minutes later with a paper bag in one hand and a steaming cup in the other. "My apologies, the peach cobbler muffins sell out almost as soon as they put up a tweet, and I have a terrible weakness for them." She shook the bag. "If you forgive me my horrible rudeness, I will share."
“You’re forgiven, but I’m good,” Clint said, pushing himself away from the wall so he could walk beside her. “Appreciate the offer, though.” He let silence fall for a few moments as he took a sip of his too-hot coffee, then exhaled through his nose and said, “Thanks for the exfil assist.”
"Of course. I imagine you are relieved to be out of that environment." Marie-Ange said. "Should I ask how many of the people who you were working next to were awful and in what ways? Q-Anon? FOH? Terrible churches?"
"Too many to count... plus all of the above and then some," Clint answered. He took a sip of his coffee, hissed a little when it was still too hot, then exhaled hard. "Anyway, it's good to be back around people where I don't have to pretend to agree with them."
Marie-Ange made a disgusted face, tongue out and eye squeezed shut. "Ew. That is always the worst part of doing any undercover work, having to pretend to be an even more awful person than usual." She took a long drink from her cup as though she needed to wash the idea out of her brain. "I have been there and done that, I sympathize with you. When I do it, I spend a day at a day spa in the steam room until my skin is wrinkly. I know a good one if you want a recommendation?"
"I'm good," Clint said, half-smiling. "Appreciate the offer. Just comin' down is all, for the moment. Wrapped family time, gonna try some avoidance at the mansion. Tasha'll have things settled there for me, at least." Stepping closer to her, ostensibly to avoid people walking toward them on the crowded street, he dropped a thumb drive into her jacket pocket.
Marie-Ange's reaction was to pull her scarf a touch tighter against the chill, ignoring her pocket entirely, but bumping Clint's shoulder briefly. "Come by the office sometimes, yes? Natasha can show you where she hides the good vodka, and we can talk coffee."
Clint really did grin at that, quirking an eyebrow as he asked, "You think I don't know where Tasha hides the good vodka?"
"You have been gone two years, and we are probably about to move offices." Marie-Ange's nose wrinkled up as she laughed. "All new places to hide vodka. Possibly in the air vents."
Amused that Marie-Ange thought he wouldn't be able to figure out where Tasha re-stashed the good vodka, Clint just nodded along. "I'm no good in air vents. They make too much noise." He tipped his head to the side, then reached up to scratch beneath the rim of his beanie before nodding toward a cross street. "Might stop by your offices, whether you move or not. For now, though, I'm heading for the subway."
"I would say no vodka there but." Marie-Ange shrugged. "Honestly, I am certain there is vodka stashed in secret places in the subway." She tilted her head, considering this. "Actually, that is a good training idea. Hide good vodka in the subway, send people to find it with only their knowledge of the person who hid it." She considered again. "You did SHIELD training. How do you feel about hiding vodka in the subway if I buy you coffee sometimes?"
Clint considered that for a moment, then gave a nonchalant shrug. "I'm feeling pretty good about that deal. You let me know when and where to meet you for payment. I'm down."
"I will text you. How much notice do you need?" Marie-Ange asked, wrinkled her nose up with mischief and then pulled out her phone. "You are heading to the subway now. I have Venmo..."
"So do I," Clint said, half-grinning. "How much do you want me to hide?"
"Oh just ... two. Maybe three. Nothing good though, we should not waste good vodka until I know if this is likely to convince Topaz and Darcy to go looking for it..."
Giving Marie-Ange a half-laughing salute. "You got it."
One hand in his pocket, the other holding a cup of coffee from Coffee of Doom, Clint leaned back against the wall near the door. His breath frosted in the air and he was glad of both his beard and his beanie as he waited for Miss Colbert.
Marie-Ange walked right past Clint, into the shop, without even making eye contact. She popped out a few minutes later with a paper bag in one hand and a steaming cup in the other. "My apologies, the peach cobbler muffins sell out almost as soon as they put up a tweet, and I have a terrible weakness for them." She shook the bag. "If you forgive me my horrible rudeness, I will share."
“You’re forgiven, but I’m good,” Clint said, pushing himself away from the wall so he could walk beside her. “Appreciate the offer, though.” He let silence fall for a few moments as he took a sip of his too-hot coffee, then exhaled through his nose and said, “Thanks for the exfil assist.”
"Of course. I imagine you are relieved to be out of that environment." Marie-Ange said. "Should I ask how many of the people who you were working next to were awful and in what ways? Q-Anon? FOH? Terrible churches?"
"Too many to count... plus all of the above and then some," Clint answered. He took a sip of his coffee, hissed a little when it was still too hot, then exhaled hard. "Anyway, it's good to be back around people where I don't have to pretend to agree with them."
Marie-Ange made a disgusted face, tongue out and eye squeezed shut. "Ew. That is always the worst part of doing any undercover work, having to pretend to be an even more awful person than usual." She took a long drink from her cup as though she needed to wash the idea out of her brain. "I have been there and done that, I sympathize with you. When I do it, I spend a day at a day spa in the steam room until my skin is wrinkly. I know a good one if you want a recommendation?"
"I'm good," Clint said, half-smiling. "Appreciate the offer. Just comin' down is all, for the moment. Wrapped family time, gonna try some avoidance at the mansion. Tasha'll have things settled there for me, at least." Stepping closer to her, ostensibly to avoid people walking toward them on the crowded street, he dropped a thumb drive into her jacket pocket.
Marie-Ange's reaction was to pull her scarf a touch tighter against the chill, ignoring her pocket entirely, but bumping Clint's shoulder briefly. "Come by the office sometimes, yes? Natasha can show you where she hides the good vodka, and we can talk coffee."
Clint really did grin at that, quirking an eyebrow as he asked, "You think I don't know where Tasha hides the good vodka?"
"You have been gone two years, and we are probably about to move offices." Marie-Ange's nose wrinkled up as she laughed. "All new places to hide vodka. Possibly in the air vents."
Amused that Marie-Ange thought he wouldn't be able to figure out where Tasha re-stashed the good vodka, Clint just nodded along. "I'm no good in air vents. They make too much noise." He tipped his head to the side, then reached up to scratch beneath the rim of his beanie before nodding toward a cross street. "Might stop by your offices, whether you move or not. For now, though, I'm heading for the subway."
"I would say no vodka there but." Marie-Ange shrugged. "Honestly, I am certain there is vodka stashed in secret places in the subway." She tilted her head, considering this. "Actually, that is a good training idea. Hide good vodka in the subway, send people to find it with only their knowledge of the person who hid it." She considered again. "You did SHIELD training. How do you feel about hiding vodka in the subway if I buy you coffee sometimes?"
Clint considered that for a moment, then gave a nonchalant shrug. "I'm feeling pretty good about that deal. You let me know when and where to meet you for payment. I'm down."
"I will text you. How much notice do you need?" Marie-Ange asked, wrinkled her nose up with mischief and then pulled out her phone. "You are heading to the subway now. I have Venmo..."
"So do I," Clint said, half-grinning. "How much do you want me to hide?"
"Oh just ... two. Maybe three. Nothing good though, we should not waste good vodka until I know if this is likely to convince Topaz and Darcy to go looking for it..."
Giving Marie-Ange a half-laughing salute. "You got it."
