◉ Video + Action

[vagabond_code]

Who: Clint "Hawkeye" Barton and yous
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action: FS Starlight, SS First Breath
When: Any time this week

Video | Fleetwide
Hey, so does anyone here play darts? I have this guy at a bar called The Trophy Room offering free pints for bulleyes f'the next fews nights. Sure - if you miss, you gotta pay. But what are the chances, right? And if that sounds like an easy night's drinking to any a'you, I'll bet you two-hundred-credits you can't beat me at your darts-based game of choice. Shanghai? Round-the-clock? You name it. If I don't know it, all the better. Drop by The Trophy Room one night this week, and who knows? Y'might make a quick two hundred.

Action | Starlight
[Clint has gotten into something of a daily Rythm at the FS Starlight, piloting taxi-shuttles by day and playing darts at various bars by night. Most of those nights are spent at a bar called The Trophy Room, where he has made something of name for himself. Here, his presence seems to draw an enthusiatic crowd. He makes trick-shots, he takes dares, he challenges all comers. Bets are placed, drinks are drunk. He knows well enough that there's money to be made in keeping them hungry, though, so every few nights he switches to another bar until they throw him out for one reason or another. Then it's back to The Trophy Room.

As for the daylight hours, his taxi'll get you there fast or quiet, slow or not at all if that's your fancy. There was this one lady who just wanted him to drive a few laps and drop her off where he'd picked her up, whatever that was about, but hey. She'd paid. He smuggles, too, but that's on the hush hush. Either way, people seem to get a kick out of the idea of a deaf cabbie.

If he's not doing any of this, find him basically anywhere else on the station. I'm not your dad.]

Action | SS First Breath
[Clint hasn't been spending a lot of time on the First Breath, partially because of the over-crowding situation and partially because he hasn't had enough time to think of it as his home. He does return every so often though, to crash when they catch him trying to sleep in the taxi. If someone on the ship had their eye out, they'd find him eventually.]

Comments

[goodjob]

Hey, who's bookie? [With her best charming 'hire me' smile.]

[vagabond_code]

Changes every night. Why, you looking for some insider info or somethin'?

[She'd have to work for it.]

[goodjob]

Nah. I just got experience. Different person running books every night, you can't trust 'em.

[vagabond_code]

[That was -- actually very true. They'd been short a few nights back. There'd been arguments.]

But we can trust you, yeah? How can we do that?

[goodjob]

Because I'll show up every night, and if you don't like me, you can fire me. [She shrugs, like it doesn't matter to her. Nice poker face, Fiona.]

Don't exactly got a resume here, but I ran books for the neighborhood every summer. [Out of an ice cream truck. Don't question it.] If I'd fucked the numbers up, I'd've had my neighbors on my ass.

[vagabond_code]

You with the fleet?

[goodjob]

I'm on the Three Twins, yeah. Co-pilot.

[vagabond_code]

[So now if she was to try to scam them, he'd know where to find her -- and she'd know he knew. Plus, after a couple nights, she'd know how good he was at throwing junk.]

You know what, sure. I'll put in a good word with Zig, but I'm not promising good pay. I know he wouldn't.

[goodjob]

[She snorts.] Yeah, don't worry, I've heard that before. Fiona Gallagher, nice to meet you, Mr Darts.

[vagabond_code]

Clint.

[Problem with being deaf no.154, you can never be quite sure if a given nickname sounds cool or whether you just think it does.]

You should meet me for real at The Trophy Room tonight - you know where that is?

[goodjob]

Yeah, I'm a taxi driver by day. [So glamorous.] I get off at [TIME]. See you then?

[vagabond_code]

[Well whaddya know, they have the same shift tonight. Maybe they have the same boss.]

What's your poison? I'll have one waiting.

[goodjob]

Oh, a gentleman. [Fiona, stop flirting with potential coworkers.] Is there Pabst in space?

[vagabond_code]

Space-Pabst maybe.

I'll ask.

You can go ritzier than that though, if you want. I'm not picking up the tab, it'll be Ziggy.

[A white lie. Ziggy would probably end up docking the cost from his hype-man-pay.]

[goodjob]

Eh, jack and coke if you're feeling fancy. [She doesn't want to go too expensive. She also knows bar culture well enough to want to not be That Girl Ordering The Umbrella Drinks.] See you in a bit.

[And she does, entering the bar at the agreed upon time. Fiona didn't dress up for it, she's wearing the casual clothes she drives in. There's a slight smile on her face; she practically grew up in bars, and you always miss home. She calls out when she sees Clint.] Hey!

[vagabond_code]

[It's actually pretty early as far as the night-scene here goes. Clint has just arrived himself, but he's been advertising the place to just about everyone who got in his cab the last few days so there are a good ten or so patrons dotted about. Some are gathered around the dart-board, apparently sort of 'with' Clint. One taps him on the shoulder and points to the door. Clint in turn makes eye contact with Fiona and points to the bar, where a thin, pale man with bright red hair is already mixing the closest thing he has to a rum and coke.]

[goodjob]

[Fiona smiles, waves, and sits down. She talks idly with the redhead-- Ziggy?-- until Clint can come over, introducing herself and nursing her drink.]

[vagabond_code]

[Don't ask why Clint has a dart in his mouth and one in each hand. It's probably not important. Much more important is the fact that Ziggy is eyeing Fiona kind of sideways, sizing her up. His small-talk is the kind you'd expect, though. Gentle prodding questions and familiar language, with a hint of bitterness underneath it all. Every now and then Ziggy slinks from behind the bar to clean something, or someone comes to order a drink. Whenever he's not directly speaking to Fiona he seems to forget that she's there.

It gets increasingly hard to see what Clint is up to behind a press of bodies around him, until a cheer goes up and the air is filled with the enthusiastic banging of glass-bottoms on table-tops. He comes to join her shortly after.]

Hey! So, what do you think?

[He preferred to stand than sit, but leaned with his palms on the counter's edge.]

[goodjob]

[Fiona has known her fair share of bartenders, and this is one of the shifty ones. She greets Ziggy's suspicion with open, vaguely aggressive friendliness, the kind that never quite reaches her eyes.]

[More importantly, whatever the hell Clint's doing, he's good at putting on a show. Her smile is more genuine by far when she glances up at him.] Nice bar, good entertainment. [She nods her head in his direction, indicating him as the entertainment.] It's a good setup. How much of a cut does the house get?

[Because it's pretty obvious he works for the bar, so this is clearly some kind of promotional thing, right? It's like when Frank let people shoot an apple off his head at the Alibi and had to wear an eye-patch for four months.]

[Well, not exactly like that.]

[vagabond_code]

The house always wins.

[He shrugged. Considering he came without a penny to his name, he's doing pretty well for himself here. Besides, there's no way he'd haggle with a guy just trying to make a living.]

That's the idea anyway.

[goodjob]

[Fiona wonders, for the first time, if Clint is new to this. From the cheers at the dartboard and his confident network message, she'd assumed he was old hat, if not a professional. But he's being too nice to be that experienced.]

[She decides at the last minute to play it honesty:] Just wondering if you got a cut of the bets or the drinks or you got a flat rate. I was gonna talk you down a little so the odds'd be good if you won.

[Shit, maybe everybody's green.] You can win, right? They wouldn't pick somebody who wasn't good at this.

[If he sucks, well... she can try to talk betting in another direction, right?]

[vagabond_code]

It's kind of a credits-where-credit's-due thing.

[Clint glances over his shoulder while four women enter and take seats at the bar. Two men and a thing that looks like it could be a sea-creature follow after them, but sit at separate tables. After seeing to the women Ziggy visits the others in turn to take orders. He gestures at Clint and Clint waves back.]

Zig keeps all the money from the drinks, I get what I can make from all the gambling and he promised me a fixed amount to promote for him. Bookie takes a cut of the winnings, not the sales, so it's me you gotta butter up there.

And yeah, I can win. Got the eyes of a hawk.

[Not literally. Literally speaking, he has completely human eyes.]

[goodjob]

[Fiona nods, and works on the plan in her head. She smiles at the mention of 'buttering' anyone up.] Don't worry, I know a lost cause when I see one. [She nods back at Ziggy. No point in trying to get in good with him.]

[Really, though, she's trying to win them both over by working hard and doing it right to make them both money. That, more than any kind of charm, has always been her angle.]

If I'm taking a cut off house winnings, I'll talk you down, make you sound like you don't know what you're doing. If you're really that good... [and she's not exactly convinced, but a job's a job] If you're really that good, you don't wanna win every time.

[vagabond_code]

[He'd been flying by the seat of his pants so far. Which was to say he'd been losing, every now and then, but maybe not enough. His goal had been to get people into the bar, not to get the most he could out of them once they got there.]

Okay, but you realize the regulars have seen what I can do.

[goodjob]

[Fiona has a deeply ingrained distaste for boasting, which is what she assumes is going on right now. She gives him a skeptical look. Prove it, bucko.] I haven't.