CLINT (HAWKEYE) BARTON (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vagabond_code) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-04-22 09:36 am
vagabond_code) wrote in driftfleet2016-04-22 09:36 am
◉ Video + Action
Who: Clint "Hawkeye" Barton and alls a' yous
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action?: First Breath if you wanna.
Where: Casa de Barton aboard the SS First Breath
When: Now
[The camera of Clint's communicator device flicks on, and it stares for a few seconds at some high, dull grey corner of a room. By mistake? It's dusty up there, dingy you might even say, but it sets the tone pretty perfectly because although the claustrophobic angle widens when he begins to pan the camera around, the dinge does not receed. It's his room, but, it could be anyone's room. No single foot of it declares 'Clint Barton'. It barely declares 'human habitation'. He owns a bed, and there are things lurking under it. One corner of the room is where the duffle bag lives... and that's it for home decor. So actually, as it turns out, he's showing the fleet a three-sixty degree view of his dismal quarters on purpose. He sets the device on his bed and angles it toward himself, where he sits on the floor a few feet away.]
Hey.
[How to start with this? Seriously.]
Okay, I need your help. Does anyone think maybe there's a way to make this place look like it isn't a prison cell? What kind of person lives in a place that looks like this? Seriously I ask you. Maybe a rug over there, or I could put some paintings up. I could get one of those elephants that you point at the door.
A vase?
[That's literally all of his ideas. He's gesturing non-noncommittally over his shoulder, even, so it's not like he's got plans for where to put these things even if he had them.]
...Mood lighting...
[He'd heard that somewhere one time.]
And I know there are some new people, so just, fair warning - I need to see your mouth. My ears aren't working right. It's a hassle but whatever. So, ideas?
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action?: First Breath if you wanna.
Where: Casa de Barton aboard the SS First Breath
When: Now
[The camera of Clint's communicator device flicks on, and it stares for a few seconds at some high, dull grey corner of a room. By mistake? It's dusty up there, dingy you might even say, but it sets the tone pretty perfectly because although the claustrophobic angle widens when he begins to pan the camera around, the dinge does not receed. It's his room, but, it could be anyone's room. No single foot of it declares 'Clint Barton'. It barely declares 'human habitation'. He owns a bed, and there are things lurking under it. One corner of the room is where the duffle bag lives... and that's it for home decor. So actually, as it turns out, he's showing the fleet a three-sixty degree view of his dismal quarters on purpose. He sets the device on his bed and angles it toward himself, where he sits on the floor a few feet away.]
Hey.
[How to start with this? Seriously.]
Okay, I need your help. Does anyone think maybe there's a way to make this place look like it isn't a prison cell? What kind of person lives in a place that looks like this? Seriously I ask you. Maybe a rug over there, or I could put some paintings up. I could get one of those elephants that you point at the door.
A vase?
[That's literally all of his ideas. He's gesturing non-noncommittally over his shoulder, even, so it's not like he's got plans for where to put these things even if he had them.]
...Mood lighting...
[He'd heard that somewhere one time.]
And I know there are some new people, so just, fair warning - I need to see your mouth. My ears aren't working right. It's a hassle but whatever. So, ideas?
text;
I'll have one for you as soon as I can find a suitable pot. Are you thinking to install shelves?
text;
[Clint was no stranger to working with wood, but sometimes he got in his own way. Time would tell. Like right now. Was there a particular reason why some plants would need to be on shelves, and others not? He aught to ask, but he couldn't bring himself to expose that degree of incompetence to someone who was eagerly offering him custody over another living thing.]
text;
[And it won't get knocked over by any stray maintenance bots or pet foxes. Probably. Some of the foxes can jump rather high.]
I'd offer a fish as well, but we only have a few left.
text;
[Plus, they don't really do anything, do they? All the same, he could respect Vision's interest in collecting them.]
Anything I can do for you? You know, because of the plant and everything?
text;
Hm. Not that I can think of at the moment.
text;
[Maybe if he'd been offering these favor up front, people would have been even more helpful. Huh.]
text;