Clint & Illyana | Catch up
Aug. 5th, 2023 10:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logs(Backdated) Illyana and Clint catch up after she drops Pyotr off in Russia.
Clint leaned back in his chair, feet propped on his desk, and contemplated the bottle of vodka in front of him. On the one hand, it was the good, expensive kind that Tasha kept stocking her secret stash with just so he could steal it... on the other, he really wanted to put some Skittles in it.
But on the other other hand, should he risk offending the new very lethal Russian woman in his life? Tasha put up with the Skittles thing, but only if he used Russian Skittles and he didn't have any of those right now. It wouldn't be the same if he ate the Skittles and then drank the vodka.
"You are staring at bottle of vodka like it holds answers to mysteries of life," Illyana commented as she entered the room. "Is very good Russian approximation but needs more brooding. I am supposed to be the brooding one." She plopped down in the chair next to him, feet curled up under her. "Why are you staring at vodka instead of drinking?"
"What's your opinion of Skittles in vodka?" Clint asked, gaze shifting from the alcohol to Illyana.
"I have never tried this thing, but I like Skittles," she replied. "Pyotr would sniff, turn up nose, but he is purist about correct way to drink vodka. I am not Russian enough for that. If you like Skittles in vodka, we will drink Skittles in vodka." A hand reached into the pocket of her hoodie, pulling out two bags of sour gummy worms. "One of these is for you. Snacks are proper for drinking, I am bit of purist about that."
"Awesome," Clint said, taking the package and rocking a bit on his chair legs until he was in the perfect position to open the drawer on his desk. Pulling the Skittles out, he put the Gummi Worms down and grabbed the vodka. "Sorry your mom's not doing great," he offered, uncapping the liquor, opening the candies, and then pouring them in.
Illyana lifted one shoulder in a shrug, tightening her arm around her legs. "She is not young. Hard life. Soviets, then struggling collective that is barely surviving. Lost oldest son to stars, would have lost second son to government if mutation did not make it hard to disappear him. Thought baby girl was lost to Siberian wilderness. Is not an easy thing sometimes, survival. Like to think I get that from her, much like looks." She let out a sigh. "And now she knows I am back, took one look and started to cry because she thought I was ghost sent to take her beyond veil."
Clint winced even as he recapped the vodka and started swirling the Skittles around inside it. "Jesus, that sucks. But maybe it's not such a bad thing? She's survived, you've survived. You two have seen one another. Maybe it's not perfect, but surviving's still good in general. And you can go back, if you want..." Trailing off, Clint frowned a bit, then asked, "You know you get Paid Time Off, right? Like, if you wanna hop over to Siberia for a few days during the week, you can. It's not like I'll short your paycheck or anything."
Illyana nodded. "Am not so busy with portal shifts that can not make it work, but do not want to bring wrong attention to family. Will be hard enough, explaining how Pyotr got there without notice. How I am back from dead..." she shook her head. "I will go back some, visit, give them money. Some legit through bank, some just cash in hand. Pyotr is not happy about this, but I have few expenses and he cannot stop me."
"That's how my big brother felt when I told him he wouldn't have to pay rent at the building I own in Bed Stuy," Clint said, nodding along. "I mean, he's the super, so free room and board, anyway. But..." He shrugged. "Family."
"Yes." It was always nice when someone understood. "Even if meeting had gone very poorly, would have snuck money to Pyotr. Made him tell parents it was from art sales. Mama did give me scold when Pyotr tattled that I had been avoiding video calls, but still think I did best thing. For myself, at least." She stretched a foot out, poking him in the leg with her toes. "Tell me about your big brother. Thought you only had Matthew."
Clint quirked a small smile. "Bernard," he said. "But I've always called him Barney. He's... a good few years older than me. Dunno if I was a surprise to my parents or not, but either way, when they died - and then my grandparents - Barney tried to keep us together - we ran away to the circus, even. But ultimately, we got put in the system. He aged out of the foster system, though, and nobody'd let him take care of me, so. I stayed. Got adopted by my dads after fostering with them for a while, then Matt turned up. He's actually my adoptive dad Andre's biological nephew. Barney dropped in and out for a while. Pretty sure he got mixed up in some bad stuff - he's sorta like me, with the bow and arrows? But without the mutation. He's just that good. Used to be, anyway.
"Got himself outta trouble about ten years go. Settled down. I've got two nephews and a niece running around, along with a great sister-in-law," Clint continued, shrugging. "They let me crash on their couch when I don't wanna be around anybody else. Good people."
"That is good, that he is not in trouble," Illyana replied. "Also that he cares enough to try. Sometimes... it is easier to not care. Cannot be hurt if there is nothing to use against you." She popped a few gummies into her mouth, not having planned on being quite so honest. It was Clint, and he treated her like... not like a stupid child, at least, so it was fine. Maybe.
"Yeah, definitely could've been worse," Clint agreed. "Especially when we were in the circus. Which reminds me, you ever want somewhere to crash, there's an empty apartment on the top floor of the building. The mansion can be a lot sometimes, I know. Most people seem to adjust pretty well to it, but still. The offer's out there." He started rocking the vodka bottle back and forth, watching as the Skittles inside dissolved and began turning the clear liquid somewhat murky. "This is gonna be delicious, I promise."
Illyana's face was decidedly dubious. "Cannot be worse than other things I have had," she eventually said diplomatically. "Even if it looks worse than melted pile of gummy bears."
"Well, Miss Lightweight, you're gonna like it and then I'm gonna have to cut you off because the amount of sugar in this is absurd and that just helps liquor metabolize faster, so." Clint grinned as he spoke, still turning the vodka bottle upside down and then rightside up again. "But your brother got settled and everything? Are they gonna need help? Cause it's like, nothing to ask Clarice to open a portal there and toss stuff over. Medicine or whatever. I know you can do your portals, too, but that way you don't have to go through Limbo."
"So rude," she huffed, a hint of a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. She considered tossing a gummy at his head, but that would just leave her with one less piece of candy. "Yes, he is settled. They are okay for now, but farm does not bring in much and Pyotr is big mouth to feed. Will ask, trade favors if they need more than money can provide. Think it is Rasputin trait, do not like being handed things when work or trade is possible."
"Sure," Clint agreed, nodding slowly. "But what're they gonna do if somebody just throws a bunch of stuff onto their porch? Ignore it? I'm not saying I will, but you let me know and I might. I mean, you let me know and I definitely will arrange something, but like. Not without your say-so, I guess. What does your family grow on the farm? Can we just... sneak more of that in?"
"Is more growing conditions, but Pyotr is better person to talk about. Winter is cold, long, sometimes not enough snow. Frost gets very deep, so growing is short. Land is tired, hard to rotate crops." Illyana shrugged. "We will see. For now, money I can send is enough."
"Okay," Clint said, tipping his head toward her. "You just let me know if they need anything else. Happy to help." Pulling out a drawer on his desk, he grabbed a couple shot glasses and sat them on the flat surface. "Usually I'd let the Skittle marinate a little more, but I don't wanna make you wait any longer for your drink." He checked to make sure the Skittle sediment had settled at the bottle, then uncapped it again and poured two shots before pushing one over to Illyana. "Za zdorovie!"
"Za nas!" Illyana replied, slowly turning the shot glass in her hands before upending it. Sweet, but a hint of bite. "This is good. Another?" Only the one, though, because Illyana... did not want to contemplate what she might do drunk. Stupid things. She was not in the habit of those.
Tossing his own shot back as Illyana did, Clint grinned and asked, "Do you have any idea how many shot glasses Thor went through before Jane finally broke him of the habit of smashing drinking vessels on the floor and yelling, 'Another!'?" He poured them both their second shots and held his up for a clink.
Illyana tapped her glass lightly against his and knocked her second shot back. "Should have brought chips for this, not more sweets. Wait. Vending machine." She eyed it, then pulled a few crumpled notes worth 10 rubles each out of her wallet and stood. The second shot hadn't hit yet, so she was still graceful as she made her way to the machine. "Hello, I would like salty or bread snack please," she said to it, carefully straightening and inserting the money before pressing a few random buttons. What she got was... close, at least. A drink of some sort, what looked like some sort of meat sandwich, and a bag of... cookies? She thought they were cookies. She made her way back to her chair, wobbling just a little. "I have snack, here," she said, shoving the sandwich at Clint. "Not sure what flavor drink Stardust Slime is but we will try it."
"Huh," Clint said, then shrugged and opened the sandwich. "Thanks, vending machine!" He called over to it. Then he took a massive bite out of the sandwich and chewed for a few moments. "Huh," he repeated. "Not bad. Not what I was expecting, but not bad. Also, if you want to actually not fall over, you should eat some of the sandwich, too. You need more than cookies to absorb two shots of that vodka. Tasha doesn't play when it comes to liquor."
Illyana frowned. "Prefer to not eat meat, but if you have protein bars will eat one," she offered as a compromise. "Otherwise would have given you cookies, not sorry. You are big boy, can handle vodka if giving nicknames to woman who does serious drinks."
Ruffling around in a couple of the drawers on his desk, Clint pulled out a few protein bars in various flavors and offered them to Illyana. "Tasha's my best friend. Taught me everything I know about good vodka and she tolerates all the ways I fuck it up on the reg. That, my friend, is priceless."
"Cannot relate. Suppose Rahne is something like best friend. We shared snacks sometimes, but not vodka. Too young." She looked over the selection before grabbing the peanut butter bar. They weren't her favorite, but they were generally a safe flavor. She peeled the label back and took a chomp. "Surprisingly good," she acknowledged, commiting the brand to memory so she could add some to her stash. "These are not vending machine only, yes?"
"Nope, I keep a supply in my desk, you're welcome to them whenever you like," Clint said, pulling several more of the kind she'd taken. "In fact, go ahead and take these. They're not my favorite."
"Not my favorite either, but peanut butter is safe. Tastes same in most forms. Better than options that do not taste correct." She wrinkled her nose. "Less good with Skittles vodka, but thank you."
Illyana propped her face in a hand, idly watching the swirls of the portal as the vodka settled. It was hypnotizing, and she shook her head firmly to wake herself. "Should probably go sleep."
"Yeah, why advertise a protein bar as tasting like birthday cake? Everybody know it's gonna taste like cardboard with some bad sprinkles on top," Clint said, nodding along. And yeah, sleep sounds good. I should probably attempt to get some actual work done. Or maybe nap. Probably this many shots in isn't the best time to do work."
Clint leaned back in his chair, feet propped on his desk, and contemplated the bottle of vodka in front of him. On the one hand, it was the good, expensive kind that Tasha kept stocking her secret stash with just so he could steal it... on the other, he really wanted to put some Skittles in it.
But on the other other hand, should he risk offending the new very lethal Russian woman in his life? Tasha put up with the Skittles thing, but only if he used Russian Skittles and he didn't have any of those right now. It wouldn't be the same if he ate the Skittles and then drank the vodka.
"You are staring at bottle of vodka like it holds answers to mysteries of life," Illyana commented as she entered the room. "Is very good Russian approximation but needs more brooding. I am supposed to be the brooding one." She plopped down in the chair next to him, feet curled up under her. "Why are you staring at vodka instead of drinking?"
"What's your opinion of Skittles in vodka?" Clint asked, gaze shifting from the alcohol to Illyana.
"I have never tried this thing, but I like Skittles," she replied. "Pyotr would sniff, turn up nose, but he is purist about correct way to drink vodka. I am not Russian enough for that. If you like Skittles in vodka, we will drink Skittles in vodka." A hand reached into the pocket of her hoodie, pulling out two bags of sour gummy worms. "One of these is for you. Snacks are proper for drinking, I am bit of purist about that."
"Awesome," Clint said, taking the package and rocking a bit on his chair legs until he was in the perfect position to open the drawer on his desk. Pulling the Skittles out, he put the Gummi Worms down and grabbed the vodka. "Sorry your mom's not doing great," he offered, uncapping the liquor, opening the candies, and then pouring them in.
Illyana lifted one shoulder in a shrug, tightening her arm around her legs. "She is not young. Hard life. Soviets, then struggling collective that is barely surviving. Lost oldest son to stars, would have lost second son to government if mutation did not make it hard to disappear him. Thought baby girl was lost to Siberian wilderness. Is not an easy thing sometimes, survival. Like to think I get that from her, much like looks." She let out a sigh. "And now she knows I am back, took one look and started to cry because she thought I was ghost sent to take her beyond veil."
Clint winced even as he recapped the vodka and started swirling the Skittles around inside it. "Jesus, that sucks. But maybe it's not such a bad thing? She's survived, you've survived. You two have seen one another. Maybe it's not perfect, but surviving's still good in general. And you can go back, if you want..." Trailing off, Clint frowned a bit, then asked, "You know you get Paid Time Off, right? Like, if you wanna hop over to Siberia for a few days during the week, you can. It's not like I'll short your paycheck or anything."
Illyana nodded. "Am not so busy with portal shifts that can not make it work, but do not want to bring wrong attention to family. Will be hard enough, explaining how Pyotr got there without notice. How I am back from dead..." she shook her head. "I will go back some, visit, give them money. Some legit through bank, some just cash in hand. Pyotr is not happy about this, but I have few expenses and he cannot stop me."
"That's how my big brother felt when I told him he wouldn't have to pay rent at the building I own in Bed Stuy," Clint said, nodding along. "I mean, he's the super, so free room and board, anyway. But..." He shrugged. "Family."
"Yes." It was always nice when someone understood. "Even if meeting had gone very poorly, would have snuck money to Pyotr. Made him tell parents it was from art sales. Mama did give me scold when Pyotr tattled that I had been avoiding video calls, but still think I did best thing. For myself, at least." She stretched a foot out, poking him in the leg with her toes. "Tell me about your big brother. Thought you only had Matthew."
Clint quirked a small smile. "Bernard," he said. "But I've always called him Barney. He's... a good few years older than me. Dunno if I was a surprise to my parents or not, but either way, when they died - and then my grandparents - Barney tried to keep us together - we ran away to the circus, even. But ultimately, we got put in the system. He aged out of the foster system, though, and nobody'd let him take care of me, so. I stayed. Got adopted by my dads after fostering with them for a while, then Matt turned up. He's actually my adoptive dad Andre's biological nephew. Barney dropped in and out for a while. Pretty sure he got mixed up in some bad stuff - he's sorta like me, with the bow and arrows? But without the mutation. He's just that good. Used to be, anyway.
"Got himself outta trouble about ten years go. Settled down. I've got two nephews and a niece running around, along with a great sister-in-law," Clint continued, shrugging. "They let me crash on their couch when I don't wanna be around anybody else. Good people."
"That is good, that he is not in trouble," Illyana replied. "Also that he cares enough to try. Sometimes... it is easier to not care. Cannot be hurt if there is nothing to use against you." She popped a few gummies into her mouth, not having planned on being quite so honest. It was Clint, and he treated her like... not like a stupid child, at least, so it was fine. Maybe.
"Yeah, definitely could've been worse," Clint agreed. "Especially when we were in the circus. Which reminds me, you ever want somewhere to crash, there's an empty apartment on the top floor of the building. The mansion can be a lot sometimes, I know. Most people seem to adjust pretty well to it, but still. The offer's out there." He started rocking the vodka bottle back and forth, watching as the Skittles inside dissolved and began turning the clear liquid somewhat murky. "This is gonna be delicious, I promise."
Illyana's face was decidedly dubious. "Cannot be worse than other things I have had," she eventually said diplomatically. "Even if it looks worse than melted pile of gummy bears."
"Well, Miss Lightweight, you're gonna like it and then I'm gonna have to cut you off because the amount of sugar in this is absurd and that just helps liquor metabolize faster, so." Clint grinned as he spoke, still turning the vodka bottle upside down and then rightside up again. "But your brother got settled and everything? Are they gonna need help? Cause it's like, nothing to ask Clarice to open a portal there and toss stuff over. Medicine or whatever. I know you can do your portals, too, but that way you don't have to go through Limbo."
"So rude," she huffed, a hint of a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. She considered tossing a gummy at his head, but that would just leave her with one less piece of candy. "Yes, he is settled. They are okay for now, but farm does not bring in much and Pyotr is big mouth to feed. Will ask, trade favors if they need more than money can provide. Think it is Rasputin trait, do not like being handed things when work or trade is possible."
"Sure," Clint agreed, nodding slowly. "But what're they gonna do if somebody just throws a bunch of stuff onto their porch? Ignore it? I'm not saying I will, but you let me know and I might. I mean, you let me know and I definitely will arrange something, but like. Not without your say-so, I guess. What does your family grow on the farm? Can we just... sneak more of that in?"
"Is more growing conditions, but Pyotr is better person to talk about. Winter is cold, long, sometimes not enough snow. Frost gets very deep, so growing is short. Land is tired, hard to rotate crops." Illyana shrugged. "We will see. For now, money I can send is enough."
"Okay," Clint said, tipping his head toward her. "You just let me know if they need anything else. Happy to help." Pulling out a drawer on his desk, he grabbed a couple shot glasses and sat them on the flat surface. "Usually I'd let the Skittle marinate a little more, but I don't wanna make you wait any longer for your drink." He checked to make sure the Skittle sediment had settled at the bottle, then uncapped it again and poured two shots before pushing one over to Illyana. "Za zdorovie!"
"Za nas!" Illyana replied, slowly turning the shot glass in her hands before upending it. Sweet, but a hint of bite. "This is good. Another?" Only the one, though, because Illyana... did not want to contemplate what she might do drunk. Stupid things. She was not in the habit of those.
Tossing his own shot back as Illyana did, Clint grinned and asked, "Do you have any idea how many shot glasses Thor went through before Jane finally broke him of the habit of smashing drinking vessels on the floor and yelling, 'Another!'?" He poured them both their second shots and held his up for a clink.
Illyana tapped her glass lightly against his and knocked her second shot back. "Should have brought chips for this, not more sweets. Wait. Vending machine." She eyed it, then pulled a few crumpled notes worth 10 rubles each out of her wallet and stood. The second shot hadn't hit yet, so she was still graceful as she made her way to the machine. "Hello, I would like salty or bread snack please," she said to it, carefully straightening and inserting the money before pressing a few random buttons. What she got was... close, at least. A drink of some sort, what looked like some sort of meat sandwich, and a bag of... cookies? She thought they were cookies. She made her way back to her chair, wobbling just a little. "I have snack, here," she said, shoving the sandwich at Clint. "Not sure what flavor drink Stardust Slime is but we will try it."
"Huh," Clint said, then shrugged and opened the sandwich. "Thanks, vending machine!" He called over to it. Then he took a massive bite out of the sandwich and chewed for a few moments. "Huh," he repeated. "Not bad. Not what I was expecting, but not bad. Also, if you want to actually not fall over, you should eat some of the sandwich, too. You need more than cookies to absorb two shots of that vodka. Tasha doesn't play when it comes to liquor."
Illyana frowned. "Prefer to not eat meat, but if you have protein bars will eat one," she offered as a compromise. "Otherwise would have given you cookies, not sorry. You are big boy, can handle vodka if giving nicknames to woman who does serious drinks."
Ruffling around in a couple of the drawers on his desk, Clint pulled out a few protein bars in various flavors and offered them to Illyana. "Tasha's my best friend. Taught me everything I know about good vodka and she tolerates all the ways I fuck it up on the reg. That, my friend, is priceless."
"Cannot relate. Suppose Rahne is something like best friend. We shared snacks sometimes, but not vodka. Too young." She looked over the selection before grabbing the peanut butter bar. They weren't her favorite, but they were generally a safe flavor. She peeled the label back and took a chomp. "Surprisingly good," she acknowledged, commiting the brand to memory so she could add some to her stash. "These are not vending machine only, yes?"
"Nope, I keep a supply in my desk, you're welcome to them whenever you like," Clint said, pulling several more of the kind she'd taken. "In fact, go ahead and take these. They're not my favorite."
"Not my favorite either, but peanut butter is safe. Tastes same in most forms. Better than options that do not taste correct." She wrinkled her nose. "Less good with Skittles vodka, but thank you."
Illyana propped her face in a hand, idly watching the swirls of the portal as the vodka settled. It was hypnotizing, and she shook her head firmly to wake herself. "Should probably go sleep."
"Yeah, why advertise a protein bar as tasting like birthday cake? Everybody know it's gonna taste like cardboard with some bad sprinkles on top," Clint said, nodding along. And yeah, sleep sounds good. I should probably attempt to get some actual work done. Or maybe nap. Probably this many shots in isn't the best time to do work."
