[Clint scratches the back of his neck, tilting his head to the side. At least the feeling of awkwardness is mutual here. When he speaks, his voice is halting and unsure.]
Uh, no...I'm just surprised to see you out here, that's all. [A pause.] I'm, um, shooting arrows?
[Barton, you absolute moron. You sound like you haven't spoken to a human being in years. Clint gestures vaguely towards the arrows he's currently fiddling with. Despite how deeply they seem to be embedded into the trunk, he doesn't seem to have any trouble pulling them out--though, he does wince slightly as his muscles twinge.
It takes more than a few moments to sift through the thoughts in his brain. Wading through everything seems like...well, wading through a fog. Clint has always been plagued with these thoughts, but for some reason, they've been harder to ignore recently. But if Clint Barton's good for anything, it's putting on a face and pretending that everything's perfectly fine.
He attempts to make small-talk again.]
It helps me focus. Archery, I mean. You ever try it?
[ More than the awkwardness of the answer, Angelica notices the wince. Her brow pinches faintly, and as she approaches the tree, she wonders if she ought to suggest he take a break.
By the time he has managed to put himself together enough for the second attempt, Angelica has drawn within normal speaking distance. There's some hesitance that lurks within her own mannerisms, the way her eyes seem poised to dart from him to the tree he'd been firing at and yet never quite do, and her answer is delayed by seconds as well. ]
No. [ She understands his intention is small talk, and she also knows that small talk is something she has never been good at. There's a moment where that flat reply just sits there, but then she adds, ] I haven't had the opportunity to take up many hobbies, previously. I suppose I could try, now that I'm here.
[ ...But, ] Would you like to take a break? You look like you've been focusing for quite a while.
[Clint glances reluctantly between his arrows and the bow deposited a few yards away. At rest, his already aching muscles scream to be stretched to the breaking point. It's what he's done to make his brain shut up before, and it's what he desperately wants to do right now. After a few moments, he lets out a short sigh.]
I guess.
[It's clear from his tone of voice that he does not want to take a break, but Angelica's presence is enough to dissuade him from destroying his muscles any further. For now. He deposits his arrows in his quiver, leaning against the tree and looking up at her.
...Huh. Did she used to be this tall? He doesn't remember needing to look up that much. He blinks.]
I...just need to make sure I stay sharp. Especially after my-- [He hesitates.] --um, monster...fication.
[He speaks, as if he needs to justify himself to Angelica. He pauses again, running a hand through his hair.]
I, uh, realize it doesn't look like anything has happened.
[ Very clear. Half of her thinks she should tell him not to stop on her account, but this is probably for the best. Overtaxing himself isn't likely to help much of anyone in the long run—even if she won't patronize him by saying as much.
Angelica hums out a soft, sympathetic noise, though of course, it's hard to say whether it's sympathetic to the transformation, his driving motivation, or both. She gives him another quick glance over, trying to discern something beneath the surface. ]
There are some cases where the difference isn't immediately obvious. [ Though he looks a bit too healthy, even like this, to be undead, she thinks. ] Even I only came away from my first fog with sharper teeth.
[ And look at her now... ]
How are you holding up?
[ Like, she can tell, but it feels right to offer an ear as someone on the other side of it. ]
[Ah. Now there's the question, isn't it? Clint lets out a small snort. When in doubt, deflect by being as self-depreciating as possible.]
Oh, you know. Broke my hearing aids while turning into a big, stupid dog monster. Fell down a flight of stairs. Didn't sleep for a few days due to the unspeakable pain. Started thinking about the fact that I might be effectively stranded here with no way to actually communicate with anyone else on my team, plus the fact that they probably don't even miss me.
[He speaks in a light-hearted tone in an attempt to distract from the severity of his thoughts. If you treat yourself as a joke, nobody will be bothered to think of your problems in a serious manner. God forbid someone pity him and try to help. He shrugs again, rubbing his forearm.]
Overall, not the worst that I've been.
[It's difficult to tell if he's just saying that to be funny or if he's genuinely telling the truth. Hard to compare scenarios when you're deep in your despair.]
But enough about me. I'm sure whatever you've got going on is more exciting.
[ For as much as the answer is a deflection, it's likewise more candid than Angelica had expected. That he seems so quick to brush aside the mere idea that his troubles are worth listening to, however—that doesn't surprise her. She recalls the way they had pushed apologies and gratitude back and forth between one another in that bar. ]
Not particularly. [ She rolls her shoulder with a dismissive air to match him. ] Of everything that has ever been said about me, that I am exciting is not one of them.
[ There is a self-depreciating note in her own tone, but the shape it takes is far flatter than it had been in his. It's gone in the next second, when she opens her mouth to speak again. ]
I realize my perspective may not be the most helpful for you. For me, this place was a salvation. But, even so... I believe speaking to someone who has already been through these circumstances can be of help to those experiencing them now. I won't patronize you by saying that you should open up, but...
[ She trails off. She shrugs, her wings shifting with the motion of her shoulders. ]
I wouldn't have asked if I had thought the answer was that you're doing fine.
[For a moment, Clint considers clarifying that it was a joke, but the moment has already passed, and he fears that it may be awkward now. That's him. Clint Barton, master of conversation. However, with her last comment, he frowns.]
Oh, well--that's, uh--
[Nice? Concerning? Why can't he just accept people offering him an ear? He runs a hand through his hair.]
--I, um, appreciate it, but I'll get over it. [He scrubs the face with the palm of his hand.] I always do. There's just--just a lot going on. A lot on my mind. But there's always some big bad to take down or some criminal organization to infiltrate or--
[He pauses again, a thought occurring to him.]
Actually, what are you doing out here? I didn't think anyone really lived around here.
[Not unless she lived in, like, a tree or something. But that would be out of the question. Right? He pauses for a moment, squinting and evaluating her and trying to imagine the demon perched in a tree.
Of course. [ There is a faint sigh at the edges of her answer, but he has made himself clear. She won't press the matter any further, now that he knows the offer stands.
When he asks what she is doing here, though, something ghosts across her typically expressionless face. A fractional furrowing of her brow, a momentary downward tug at the corners of her mouth. It vanishes nearly in the same instant that it appears—but something of that disquiet remains on her demeanor as she turns her gaze aside from him again, staring dully out over the lake. This time, she doesn't return her eyes to his as she opens her mouth to answer. ]
I'm not... I wasn't doing anything. [ The words are quiet, and they might seem guilty in just a slightly different tone of voice. ] I've felt like... I'm not sure. Like there is somewhere I should be, or something I should be doing, and that I am not. It has made me restless.
[ Restless being a slightly less embarrassing euphemism for searching for something I logically know does not exist. ]
[Clint is quiet for a few moments, his expression unreadable. His gaze follows hers out towards the water, though there isn't anything of note beyond the occasional ripple from a fish breaking the tenuous surface. Half of him wants to simply turn back and hermit himself again, but the other half tells him he should probably say something. She wouldn't be sharing this if she didn't want some sort of help...right?
He was--is an Avenger, he's supposed to help. Why isn't he? Idiot.]
I...think I get what you're saying.
[It's a familiar feeling to him, at least. Knowing nothing except the world of vigilantism and superheroes means that when there's nothing to do, you feel stuck. And, in part, that's what Clint is (wrongly) tracing his current feelings to. He scratches at the back of his neck, trying to find the words to respond.]
I dunno if this helps, but whenever things get...like that, I try and focus on what I can do. You're obviously not gonna get to where you wanna be by just wandering around, and it's not going to make you feel any better. Doesn't make it go away, but if you're not focusing on it as much...it's easier to deal with, I think.
[If only Clint could take his own advice. He gestures awkwardly towards his own bow.]
[ None of that is anything Angelica doesn't know herself. Still, she appreciates the sentiment behind saying as much at all, and she nods her agreement as she looks to him again. ]
In some respects, I'm still not accustomed to the amount of freedom I have now. It makes it somewhat more difficult to find what I can do in the absence of all else. [ If nothing else, she used to be the caretaker of an entire castle. There's not quite as much property to clean or grounds to tend, when all else fails.
Also, what she usually does involves helping newcomers settle into their new situation, but... She told herself she was going to let that go for now.
Her eyes follow his gesture to the bow, and for a moment, she says nothing. Then, her shoulders roll in a little shrug. ]
Why not? I've never used the weapon before, so you'll have to guide me.
[ It sounds like a decent enough distraction for them both. They're both focused elsewhere, and his shoulders get a bit of a rest. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Uh, no...I'm just surprised to see you out here, that's all. [A pause.] I'm, um, shooting arrows?
[Barton, you absolute moron. You sound like you haven't spoken to a human being in years. Clint gestures vaguely towards the arrows he's currently fiddling with. Despite how deeply they seem to be embedded into the trunk, he doesn't seem to have any trouble pulling them out--though, he does wince slightly as his muscles twinge.
It takes more than a few moments to sift through the thoughts in his brain. Wading through everything seems like...well, wading through a fog. Clint has always been plagued with these thoughts, but for some reason, they've been harder to ignore recently. But if Clint Barton's good for anything, it's putting on a face and pretending that everything's perfectly fine.
He attempts to make small-talk again.]
It helps me focus. Archery, I mean. You ever try it?
[That's...marginally better. For now.]
no subject
By the time he has managed to put himself together enough for the second attempt, Angelica has drawn within normal speaking distance. There's some hesitance that lurks within her own mannerisms, the way her eyes seem poised to dart from him to the tree he'd been firing at and yet never quite do, and her answer is delayed by seconds as well. ]
No. [ She understands his intention is small talk, and she also knows that small talk is something she has never been good at. There's a moment where that flat reply just sits there, but then she adds, ] I haven't had the opportunity to take up many hobbies, previously. I suppose I could try, now that I'm here.
[ ...But, ] Would you like to take a break? You look like you've been focusing for quite a while.
no subject
I guess.
[It's clear from his tone of voice that he does not want to take a break, but Angelica's presence is enough to dissuade him from destroying his muscles any further. For now. He deposits his arrows in his quiver, leaning against the tree and looking up at her.
...Huh. Did she used to be this tall? He doesn't remember needing to look up that much. He blinks.]
I...just need to make sure I stay sharp. Especially after my-- [He hesitates.] --um, monster...fication.
[He speaks, as if he needs to justify himself to Angelica. He pauses again, running a hand through his hair.]
I, uh, realize it doesn't look like anything has happened.
no subject
Angelica hums out a soft, sympathetic noise, though of course, it's hard to say whether it's sympathetic to the transformation, his driving motivation, or both. She gives him another quick glance over, trying to discern something beneath the surface. ]
There are some cases where the difference isn't immediately obvious. [ Though he looks a bit too healthy, even like this, to be undead, she thinks. ] Even I only came away from my first fog with sharper teeth.
[ And look at her now... ]
How are you holding up?
[ Like, she can tell, but it feels right to offer an ear as someone on the other side of it. ]
no subject
Oh, you know. Broke my hearing aids while turning into a big, stupid dog monster. Fell down a flight of stairs. Didn't sleep for a few days due to the unspeakable pain. Started thinking about the fact that I might be effectively stranded here with no way to actually communicate with anyone else on my team, plus the fact that they probably don't even miss me.
[He speaks in a light-hearted tone in an attempt to distract from the severity of his thoughts. If you treat yourself as a joke, nobody will be bothered to think of your problems in a serious manner. God forbid someone pity him and try to help. He shrugs again, rubbing his forearm.]
Overall, not the worst that I've been.
[It's difficult to tell if he's just saying that to be funny or if he's genuinely telling the truth. Hard to compare scenarios when you're deep in your despair.]
But enough about me. I'm sure whatever you've got going on is more exciting.
no subject
Not particularly. [ She rolls her shoulder with a dismissive air to match him. ] Of everything that has ever been said about me, that I am exciting is not one of them.
[ There is a self-depreciating note in her own tone, but the shape it takes is far flatter than it had been in his. It's gone in the next second, when she opens her mouth to speak again. ]
I realize my perspective may not be the most helpful for you. For me, this place was a salvation. But, even so... I believe speaking to someone who has already been through these circumstances can be of help to those experiencing them now. I won't patronize you by saying that you should open up, but...
[ She trails off. She shrugs, her wings shifting with the motion of her shoulders. ]
I wouldn't have asked if I had thought the answer was that you're doing fine.
no subject
Oh, well--that's, uh--
[Nice? Concerning? Why can't he just accept people offering him an ear? He runs a hand through his hair.]
--I, um, appreciate it, but I'll get over it. [He scrubs the face with the palm of his hand.] I always do. There's just--just a lot going on. A lot on my mind. But there's always some big bad to take down or some criminal organization to infiltrate or--
[He pauses again, a thought occurring to him.]
Actually, what are you doing out here? I didn't think anyone really lived around here.
[Not unless she lived in, like, a tree or something. But that would be out of the question. Right? He pauses for a moment, squinting and evaluating her and trying to imagine the demon perched in a tree.
...Yeah, definitely out of the question.]
no subject
When he asks what she is doing here, though, something ghosts across her typically expressionless face. A fractional furrowing of her brow, a momentary downward tug at the corners of her mouth. It vanishes nearly in the same instant that it appears—but something of that disquiet remains on her demeanor as she turns her gaze aside from him again, staring dully out over the lake. This time, she doesn't return her eyes to his as she opens her mouth to answer. ]
I'm not... I wasn't doing anything. [ The words are quiet, and they might seem guilty in just a slightly different tone of voice. ] I've felt like... I'm not sure. Like there is somewhere I should be, or something I should be doing, and that I am not. It has made me restless.
[ Restless being a slightly less embarrassing euphemism for searching for something I logically know does not exist. ]
no subject
He was--is an Avenger, he's supposed to help. Why isn't he? Idiot.]
I...think I get what you're saying.
[It's a familiar feeling to him, at least. Knowing nothing except the world of vigilantism and superheroes means that when there's nothing to do, you feel stuck. And, in part, that's what Clint is (wrongly) tracing his current feelings to. He scratches at the back of his neck, trying to find the words to respond.]
I dunno if this helps, but whenever things get...like that, I try and focus on what I can do. You're obviously not gonna get to where you wanna be by just wandering around, and it's not going to make you feel any better. Doesn't make it go away, but if you're not focusing on it as much...it's easier to deal with, I think.
[If only Clint could take his own advice. He gestures awkwardly towards his own bow.]
Do you wanna try shooting some arrows?
no subject
In some respects, I'm still not accustomed to the amount of freedom I have now. It makes it somewhat more difficult to find what I can do in the absence of all else. [ If nothing else, she used to be the caretaker of an entire castle. There's not quite as much property to clean or grounds to tend, when all else fails.
Also, what she usually does involves helping newcomers settle into their new situation, but... She told herself she was going to let that go for now.
Her eyes follow his gesture to the bow, and for a moment, she says nothing. Then, her shoulders roll in a little shrug. ]
Why not? I've never used the weapon before, so you'll have to guide me.
[ It sounds like a decent enough distraction for them both. They're both focused elsewhere, and his shoulders get a bit of a rest. ]