He’d made a point of avoiding the fundraiser. They always wanted him in his armor, swinging Mjolnir around and testing the worthiness of people who would never seek true battle.  Instead, he ate with his people and journeyed to New York at his own pace.

The new building was nice enough in it’s own charming Midgardian way. Though, it needed more balconies and a new lock for the rooftop door.  Still, very charming, and a very well stocked kitchen. He was waiting for the Toaster Strudel to warm up when he noticed a friend pass the doorway.

“Barton,” he called out loudly and rushed into the hallway.  “It has been too long.”

JC swung a ring around his finger while he waited for the patrons to arrive. Manning a booth would help him interact with more people and hopefully gather some data. He needed to earn as much confidence as he could. So having Clint Barton of all people manning he booth with him was a stroke of luck. He’d do well learning even more about the archer than Hydra had already taught him.

“So, are you going to have a go yourself to attract some custom or do we just stand here looking pretty?” he chuckled.

“There’s a stereotype that Jews are good businessman, an’ that’s true for me. I’m a mean motherfucker. That was born of necessity, though. When you don’t got no money, so you better use well what you do have.”