I don't miss.

She nods. Yes, blond hair and blue eyes and he’s white. Of course he would look like any white guy with short blond hair and blue eyes. It seems he doesn’t realize it yet. That she knows who he is. Listen, Ismael reads her Comic Books and she watches movies. She’s trying to wrap her head around the fact that in her world a character that does not exist, exist in this world. Ismael is taking a step closer, clearing her throat as she does so. She closes the space between them. Maybe a little too close for his and even her comfort but…

She raises a hand to cover her mouth, brown eyes peering up at the man,

“You know…Like H-Hawkeye. I won’t tell anyone, Mr. Barton. It’ll be our little secret, ‘kay?”

Clint waits for the answer, blue eyes narrowing as she covers her mouth with her hand... kind of cutting off the main source of understanding for a deaf man. His hearing aids are on, but he tries not to rely on those too heavily. Still, he’s leaning an ear to her.

Huh? When he leans back he’s crossing his arms at her and giving a puzzled look. “uuuuuuuh..” Hawkeyes identity was public so he wasn’t really worried about that but people around here didn’t really care... so she had to be from his neck of the woods somewhere... maybe? 

Badou and Clint’ll take what they can get at this point. In this place, that’s how it is– then again Badou finds himself frequenting plenty of food joints. Anything so he doesn’t have to cook. 

Badou gets a burger with the works, bacon, lettuce, tomato, all of that– no onion. And cheese fries. 

“I’m still living with the same people in that big ass house.” He doesn’t really see himself finding another place. Not when he’s comfortable. Now that could change but. 

“Uhhh not really. Same weird stuff sprinkled in with parties and stuff. Met some new people.”

At the answer Clint shrugs. You didn’t need your own place if you were comfy where you were and if Badou was still livin there he was certainly comfortable.

This is as close to ‘I missed you’ as Clint is ever going to get. Better appreciate that Clint!!!

But he perks up, grinning.

“Food and beer? Alright, you’re on. C’mon, I’ll tell you what’s been going on, and I won’t even charge ya!”

“That’s just so generous of you.” Clint chuckles at that. Its wasn’t a far walk to find a burger- it wasn’t the best burger -not like In N Out, but it was a big greasy meaty burger none-the-less. Clint gets one thats loaded with bacon and onion rings. Its not the healthy choice but he’s never care about eatin good... least he was eating.

Ismael may be unfamiliar with the area still, but that doesn’t mean she should just sit at home doing nothing. There’s no worry or fear of getting lo–okay, maybe just a little bit. Maybe she’s a little worried, but she tells her self this every day since arriving: Can’t let worry and fear get in the way of exploring new areas! 

She won’t let it get to her. She’ll explore as much as she can if only to familiarize herself more with the different branches and wards that Spirale has to offer. 

She wakes up this morning, and usually Ismael is an early bird, waking up as early as 5 to 6 AM. She’s been outside just looking around since 7:30 AM. At this hour it’s not as busy. People are either still indoors or they’re sleeping. 

Around 9 AM is when she’s decided to take her short jog. She doesn’t have a soccer ball so kicking a ball around hasn’t been a thing since arriving. She misses it, BUT hey, at least she still has her violin. If she wants to exercise, she can just run until she can find a baseball or a soccer ball to play with. 

Ismael has some pretty good endurance. She can run for awhile, but….she slows down her jog and starts walking. Popping the cap open to her water bottle, she takes a big swig of it, but careful because she doesn’t want water to go down the wrong hole. “AH, that hit the spot.” From her distance, she can see the dog. Good dog, GOOD pretty doggo and Ismael finds that she can’t hold in her excitement! The owner and his dog is walking the same pathway and soon she’ll get to ask if she can pet the dog. She doesn’t see the dog wearing a ‘service animal’ logo, but she still should ask. Once they’re near and the man reacts the way he does, she assumes he didn’t see her coming. “’Ey, are ya alright?” His question about who would put a trashcan there earns a light chuckle, “I don’t think they thought about someone potentially knocking it over, hehe!” Wait….Hold up.

“….” She’s staring at him. She’s DEAD staring right at him. “Uh-uhm…Hey, so…I just gotta ask, this is crazy and all, but uh….And I’m sure you probably get this a lot.” Ismael lowers her eyes to look at Lucky then she’s looking back at the man, “you reeeeeeally look like someone…You ever get that?” SHE WANTS TO ASK SO BAD.

Clint brushes himself off, “I’m just peachy.” It was just a little tumble he’s seriously had so.. so much worse. Thankfully the bin wasn’t too full, but he did have to scoop down and throw some items back into the can after sitting it upright again. He doesn’t catch the tone in her voice but the hard stare is noticed as he stands again after picking up Lucky’s leash.

“You’re a hero for the ages,” he says, and he means in sincerely. Clint’s a good guy. A dummy, a lot, but he’s good. He does his best. 

Still. Badou’s glad he’s looking thoughtfully around and not at him. Oh, nevermind, there’s that look.

“It’s always weird when you’re not around,” he admits, decidedly not returning Clint’s gaze.

A hero for the ages sure was an interesting thing to call him. Clint’s thinking Badou’s a little bias tho, they knew each other for so long maybe he felt obligated to say something like that...

This morning he was on top of his game. Clint woke up at 9- still not the buttcrack of dawn but it was before noon. He made his protein shake, got a collar on Lucky, and walked out the door for a run. The salt in the air felt familiar, despite having been in this place for what felt like forever (on and off) he always thought about old teams.. like the West Coast Avengers.

He was nearing the end of his jog, running low on that protein shake. Even Lucky was getting exhausted. A young woman walks right into his path- no, this isnt the typical I ran into you thing -Clint's pretty agile on his feet, so he dodges neatly... but clumsily smacks into a plastic trashcan and topples over with it. Well.. running into a trashcan is better than running into a person and potentially hurting said person, right?

Lucky's leash is loose, but hes a good boy and stays near the fallen archer. "Ugh... who put that there?" He mumbles as he shoves himself up with a hefty breath. Woo... he's done, lets all that trashcan the finish line.

well i super dropped the ball

gotta take it really easy on myself and do a starter call for two

Did this place always have an Onsen or did the city do some kind of upgrade after Clint vanished? Didn’t matter... what matter is that Clint was NOW at the Onsen and he was pretty damn excited about it- though.... he had really no idea what he was supposed to do at an Onsen other then get naked and in the water. You were supposed to get naked right?

It’s not like he could pay much attention to the rules of the bath when it was al verbal- okay so he could have easily figured it out if he had just read the hosts lips but this place was very distracting and so were a few of the attractive patrons. Respectfully.

Signs seemed to point to yes, you do get naked- especially when there was a little room with lockers. There was another man in the same room.. Clint was going to judge weather it was appropriate or not to lose his swim trunks based on what the other guy did... but it didn’t look like he was too eager.. so....

“You know, cause superheroes wear tights….and yours probably have skid marks.” 

It’s no fun when you have to explain it! God, Clint has ruined this moment. He rolls his eye and sighs. 

Don’t show Badou the outfit, Clint. If you thought you wouldn’t live it down back home…there’s Badou. 

The redhead’s expression soured some, turning into something defensive. 

“Whaddya mean do I ever leave? No. That’s the point. I don’t come in and out, apparently.” 

And what is there back home? He’s been gone so long.

Superheroes wear tights? Well he was right about that.. but.. “Ain’t much a hero..” The archer mumbles, mind wondering briefly back to recent... past events. Definitely not warm and fuzzy. A solemn expression smears as Clint quirks a brow at the face Badou gives.

Once inside, blue eyes give the room a inquisitive glance over before he bounces his attention back to Clint. A slight narrowing of his gaze and a tick of his chin in Clint’s direction is the only question he makes towards the peas being jammed back on the archer’s shoulder. Looks like he hasn’t been managing to keep himself completely out of trouble. Then again? How long can ANY of them pull that miracle off? Trouble has a way of inserting itself into their lives regardless of how far you try to run from it. 

“Spy thing? No..” Fingers twitch against the crown of the dog’s head. Then begin to gently scratch back and forth against the soft fur. “In spite of the usual? Things have been quiet. Mostly..” He flashes the smallest of grins? smiles? grimaces? What was that look really? Oh! It was a BUT look. That’s what it was. Nose scrunched, a press of his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Til a few nights ago,” he pauses mid-explanation now too curious to keep his twitch of a chin inquisition the only query towards Clint’s obvious condition. “..What happened?”

It was weird seeing The Winter Soldier standing in his disheveled apartment. Had Bucky ever come by before? It wasn’t surprising that he knew where it was- easy information to obtain. Still weird. Clint continues to stare at him with a perplexed expression before eyes glance down to the head of his dog being scratched. The archer drops gracelessly onto a couch that's riddled with more dog hair than the shirt he was now wearing. He shifts the bag of peas, that are slowly cooling off the burning sensation of his shoulder, to a slightly different position. It’s not unusual for Clint to come out of a fight looking so beat.

A brow arches at the expression that’s flashed. Clint’s been reading lips and expressions since he was a kid but that look was unusual, he couldn’t tell what that was supposed to be. He tilts his head, a gesture to invite Bucky further inside his home, mostly to better hear him - he mumbled sometimes.