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Who: Kate Bishop and YOU
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Planetside
When: This morning

[ kate is down on the planet, hair tied back with a light-coloured bandanna. she's holding the device selfie-style -- a shooting aesthetic born of the snapchat and periscope generation. ]

Do any of you know the story of the one red paperclip? Some guy up in Canada started with a paperclip, which he traded for a pen, and then traded that pen for a hand-made doorknob, and then that for a camping stove (plus fuel). And he kept going until fourteen trades after the red paperclip... he got a house. A whole futzing house.

Well, my one red paperclip was a piece of foil-wrapped gum I was holding onto since the day I arrived. Two votive candles, one fishtail braid, some dice, a repaired rope bridge, wooden shoes, and a barrel of mead later? [ her free hand reaches for something off-screen, which turns out to be a simple wooden bow. ] This is my whole futzing house. Suck it, whatever intergalactic bank handles our fleet credits. Suck it.

[ later, she can be found celebrating her minor economic victory down at the BEACH -- sunbathing, or swimming, or just diverting herself by building odd shapes in the sand. find her there, or cooling off in the evening at one of the taverns -- a little sunburned, but looking thoroughly satisfied. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Really? You c'n wait that long?

Edited 2016-07-14 11:46 (UTC)

Yeah, I can wait. [ plus she has no arrows. ] We don't all have the patience and poise of a five year old.

Been keeping your strength up?

[He taps his right bicep with his left hand.]

[ clint. you are such a dad. ]

Mmhm. Wolverine spent his credits on a gym upgrade for the Blameless before he left.

Good gift.

[He was surprised she could be so confident. When Clint had first picked up the hunter's bow, he'd been concerned he might have lost something in all that time in space. Even just a fraction of his edge.]

What's happening today?

[ not even clint's bizarrely acute eyesight could catch a flicker of honest doubt in kate's eyes. she buried it too well, deep beneath a wide smile and an unstoppable confidence. ]

Going to the beach. Bartering's tough -- I deserve a vacation.

Edited 2016-07-14 12:16 (UTC)

And I'm the five year old.

I'm gonna build a sandcastle.

I could get some plates from the market. We could throw them over the water like clay pigeons.

[Plus side? No danger of hurting anyone.... but... then they'd have to screw around in the water every time they wanted to go get their arrows back.]

Edited 2016-07-14 12:36 (UTC)

Really? That's what you got? [ ... ] We could do that with one eye closed. We could do that before our first cups of coffee. We could do that asleep.

As long as we haven't been skipping arm-day.

[I mean, Kate, you're putting sandcastles ahead of practice.]

Edited 2016-07-14 12:41 (UTC)

Fine.

...Bring arrows.

What you think I've got arrows just laying around?

[For an awkward moment he worries that maybe the quiver hanging from his hip might be in frame somehow. He adjusts the camera just in case.]

Uh, yeah. Of course I think that.

[ you always just have arrows laying around. ]

[He shrugged, figuring she'd probably caught sight of quiver in an earlier frame. Well, she could see it now.]

I got some, not many. We'll be chasing them more than we're shooting them.

[A blessing and a curse of their particular trade. Arrows were reusable - provided you went to retrieve them every time.]

Edited 2016-07-15 10:50 (UTC)

[ -- she huffs a sigh. the answer is obvious, but: ] I miss Lucky.

Someone in the building is spoiling him right this second. He's probably ten pounds heavier.

[Clint wasn't trying to console her, he wasn't fantasizing. He straight-up believed this.]

Who do you think it's likely to be, now that Simone's moved out?

The first one that noticed there were no explosions for a while. Or someone who walked by the door and heard him scratching, or -- anyone.

...You got a pretty good gang in there. [ she nods, a little subdued. ] They'll hold the fort. Again. Hopefully less literally, this time.

[ Maybe two hours later Clint's number pops up on her communicator, with the message: ]

Did you eat?

Edited 2016-07-30 15:47 (UTC)

Why? You worried about me?

Worried you haven't tried these stuffed buns yet. There's a guy down on the dock steams them right here in front of you.

[And I'm next in line once this guy in front of me pays.]

Are you offering delivery?

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