Action: Open.

[vagabond_code]

Who: Clint, Kate, and Kara || OR YOU
Broadcast: No broadcast.
Action: Iskaulit.
When: Tonight.

(CLOSED TO KATE AND KARA)

[When Kate Bishop says, 'I want to introduce you to a friend', get suspicious. Have a beer, find a pack of cards from where it had been stashed behind Varric's bar, deal yourself a few hands of Solitaire and park your butt. Dress in your best purples. They'd recently been discussing their respective romantic prospects, so he was primed for one of two equally unpleasant scenarios. Had Kate found him a date? Had Kate found someone for her own dating purposes? Was this some sort of weird thing where she wanted Clint to like the guy? A permission thing? Have another drink, consider upping and leaving, check the time like a billion times.

But they're weren't late, not yet. He was early. Because, what if he wanted to make a good impression? You only get one chance.]

(OPEN TO EVERYONE)

[Before this anxious meeting, and probably after it, Clint will be on what he has come to think of as the ship-with-the-bar-on-it. Hit him up there, or bump into him while he gets bored and takes to broadening his understand of what this place has to offer. Expect him to be nervously fiddling with a pack of cards - performing feats of accuracy that defy the laws of fluid dynamics. In the gardens chopping off the heads of this or that flower with edge of a rapidly spinning card or curving another one gracefully through the air from one end of the hallway to another. He even stands for a fair while looking at the mural. Anywhere else, he'll at least pop his head in.]

Comments

[takeabow]

Any reason in particular?

[vagabond_code]

'cuz we live basically next door. What if one of us ran out of sugar or something?

[And it was too awkward to go ask for spare sugar because they'd barely spoken except to teach Clint his ABCs? She'd done her best not to be patronizing, but he'd still felt like a child.]

[takeabow]

Well, Clint, I have bad news for you. Everyone's out of sugar.

[vagabond_code]

But see, now I know that.

[He's determined to make this a jolly moment in spite of her.]

[takeabow]

Glad I could help?

[vagabond_code]

Are you gunna sit down? The guy does a mean virgin strawberry daiquiri.

[He gestured toward the bar, but then something seemed to occur to him.]

How old are you? Drinking-old?

[takeabow]

18. Is that drinking-old?

[ she sits, though. ]

What is even a virgin strawberry daiquiri?

[vagabond_code]

I guess like a normal strawberry daiquiri? Only more pointless?

[When she sits, he stands. He's serious about getting her a drink, except...]

I don't actually know the legal drinking age in space. I bet the bar-guy would know.

[Clint is nothing if not conscientious]

[takeabow]

We can probably just skip that. I've had alcohol before.

[vagabond_code]

[Clint doesn't reply to that, but wanders off to the bar leaving her alone for a few minutes -- never mind that he'd invited her to sit down in the first place. He can be seen talking to the guy at the bar, making a series of defensive gestures, and he returns with two half pints of beer. It's a compromise. Also the beer is extremely hoppy. He half hopes she'll have a hard time with it and give up before the bottom of the glass.]

There isn't a drinking age in space, turns out. Makes you wonder why they even ask for IDs.