1964-02-06 - Good Morning Sunshine
Summary: Clint visits the bolthole to bring Elektra breakfast.
Related: NA
Theme Song: None
clint elektra 


The people of ACT-F aren't quite as demanding as the operatives and oversight in SHIELD. There are positives and negatives to be said either way to be fair. SHIELD kept a closer eye on its people, so there was that. But ACT-F gives its people more leeway, more room to maneuvar. Yet it's because of that leeway that the man known as Clint Barton was able to check in with his handler, to scribble a few quick orders to the people who need them, and then for him to vacate the offices without an explanation. At this point the people around Hawkeye expect him to be doing what he needs to be doing, so not too many people checking up on him. Lucky for him, since this morning he cuts out early an hour after he had gotten there and then heads off towards Harlem.

It's there that he had met and secured Elektra into the small safehouse that was hidden between a pair of apartments and with only the rooftop entrance. He makes the ascent upwards, taking the fire escape steps two at a time, then crossing across the gravel-covered rooftop towards the shed housing. Once he's inside he clears the debris out of the way, and starts to undo the locking mechanism.

Inside, any occupant would assuredly hear the movement above. Then there'd be the distinct sound of the door clicking and the whoosh of the air seal breaking. A few moments later and the former SHIELD operative is taking the rungs on the ladder a step at a time.


While Elektra didn't PLAN on staying in the safe house all too long, she had been injured — more injured than she'd been since coming back to the US — and her body needed the rest. So, she crashed out hard and only just got up a little bit ago, taking a bird bath at whatever sink or running water she could find in the place, then going to cleaning out her wounds in slightly more daylight. That involves no shirt and a lot of fresh bandaging, so that's the way he'll find her when he comes down the ladder.

Or, well, close to the way. The moment she heard the seal breaking above, she was going for her knives and dropping bandages. So, he will find a VERY trained world class assassin with two knives in her hands, poised, ready to kill, naked from the waist save for her black lace bra and some half wrapped bandages. As she recognizes his behind, first, a smirk dances across her lips and she slightly relaxes. "…You're lucky your ass is so recognizable."


Dropping from the last rung, Clint dusts off his shoulders and then pushes the ladder back into place and out of the way. He turns towards her and thrusts a greasy paper bag her way that smells rather nicely of eggs and bacon and the like. Should she delve into it she'll find a breakfast sandwich and some hash browns, just in case she didn't find the MREs that were available to her liking.

"Yeah. My gal at the time told me not to get a giant smiley face tattooed on it, but I sure showed her." He steps past her, eyeballing their surroundings, perhaps checking on what she's done to the place if anything before he turns his attention back towards her. "How are you doing?"

There's a step back as he levels an appraising gaze at her, a quick sweep of the bandages, the injuries. He scratches a fingertip along the curve of his jaw, the stubble making a faint scritching sound. "You always did heal quick."


The sound from her throat at the scent of food on the air is very akin to the same sound a woman might make near climax, that's how damn good the food smells and is needed. It's half moan, half growl, and she quickly spins the blades around, sheathing them into her leggings so she can step over to him and steal her breakfast away without bothering to grab at her shirt or finish with the bandages. She's not actively bleeding any more, at least.

"Better now. This smells delicious and awful for you." That is meant as a compliment. SHe begins to unwrap the sandwich, going back to perching on the edge of the cot where she was wrapping herself back up, but now the focus is on food, not healing. She shrugs at his words about her injuries. "Need to… put too many on top of them too fast. I can't exactly tell the Hand no, wait, I'm still healing up from last week." She half smirks.


"Yeah," Clint says a bit warily, but then he adds. "Well if ya need to hole up here for a while, feel free. I tossed a word up the grapevine so don't think any SHIELD people will be makin' a call here." He starts to step past her, beginning to move about the room. Sure it could be called snooping, but that would be terribly uncharitable. Perhaps he's just looking around making sure she has what she needs.

Turning back he folds his arms over his chest. "If that's the case, then I'll go see what I can rustle up for reading material, mebbe some dinner. I gotta get back and put in some hours, but should be back around dinner if needs be."

At that he cocks an eyebrow at her, "But why do I get the feelin' yer gonna go runnin' around without giving your body a chance ta heal?"


Really, Elektra hasn't done anything. Perhaps a few things are shifted, she looking for more medical supplies or some rations, but that's it. She hasn't planted any bombs or knives around the room, hasn't changed anything in order to show she might be planning on coming back here. It's mainly her cot, the little bathroom, and the medical supplies that have been touched. That's it. Apparently, she's gotten more polite or less paranoid since the last they met. Or simply more careless.

"I appreciate that, but it will not be necessary, Barton. I do not wish to bother your… Organization. Your hospitality has already been too much and I am perfectly fine." She speaks around a few bites of her sandwich, shoulders levelling out and chin up. "…Has there been any other news out there I should worry about? I truly should get dressed and going. As you said, I heal fast."


"Surprise surprise, the Bugle doesn't report on rooftop ninjas." Clint spreads his hands, but then adds. "Haven't heard anything from anyone about it. But, to be fair, I ain't exactly super in the know like I may have been before."

Barton crinkles his nose at her a touch as he steps forwards and then liberates the paper bag from her, since she's got the delicious food already from within. What he produces from it, however, is a napkin that he balls up and lightly dabs at the corner of her mouth. "Slow down, chew yer food. Cripes." His lip twitches, amused, probably just joking a bit.

That napkin is tossed into the nearby small bin, before he looks back to her. "If I hear somethin', where can I look ya up?"


As he goes for her mouth, she does pause a moment, full lips settling in a bit of a line as she watches him with mock-innocent, too-wide eyes. Her grin only widens as he comments on her to slow down, swallowing back that bite of food before she speaks, "Mm… I think you just like watching my lips. Needed an excuse to get close, Clint." She rumbles out quietly, her voice somehow a touch huskier just for the fact she is flirting. It's like she can't turn it off, even sitting there with breakfast and half naked.

"I've decided to go back to the Capitale. Tired of the ragged old hotel. I have the money. The concierge will know where to find me, but hyou can leave a message at this phone number as well…" She pauses in eating and leans over, only slightly wincing at the motion, to grab at a pen she's found somewhere so she can write her current dead drop number for him. Probably, honestly, just the concierge at the Capital.


A small scoff escapes him as he pulls up one of the older folding chairs that serves as 'furniture' in this rather bare bones safehouse. Turning it around he straddles it and rests his arms on the back of it as he lets her get a few more bites swallowed before he goes on. "Yeah yeah, you just like to hassle a guy who has told ya no before." There's a pause, then he adds. "Though sure, I have been known to say yes too, but still."

There's a bit of amusement in his eyes as they play at that old game, their flirtations having been given back and forth over the years. "But right now I doubt you'd be able to hold together, maybe after you get all your stitches out."

But then he holds out his hand for her to write that number on it. Once she's done he opens his palm for his own perusal, committing the digits to memory before wiping the ink off with a moistened fingertip. "Alright. And if you need me during the day, you know the Baxter building? Yeah ask for me there."


"…Neeeed you? And when have I ever *needed* you, Clint Barton? I could have fully, entirely handle that attack last night. It simply would have taken longer. But… hmm, perhaps if I need company for dinner and I am bored, I shall find you?" Probably parade right into his office in the tightest dress possible just to cause gossip around the whole place about who the hell was coming to visit him dressed like THAT?

She then grins, taking one last bite of her sandwich before standing up and brushing past him so she can go back to the little sink to wash her hands from the breakfast grease. When that is done, she steps back to the cot so she can grab at the last bandage to be secured. "And I could handle anything you throw at me right now. Including yourself. But… I would not wish to make your girlfriend jealous…" Lies.


Another snort comes from him and he shakes his head, but his smile gives the lie to any ill-will that could be presumed from his body language. Rolling to his feet he adjusts the hang of his jacket with the sweep of one hand, then pushes it through his hair before he turns back towards her. "You know me, rolling stone, no moss and all that."

Clint steps to the side to the ladder and lightly taps it with one hand, causing the steps to click down. "But hold those thoughts, Natchios. We'll see how the world unfolds and all that. Who knows? Mebbe we'll end up wrangling the next bad guy together."

He sets a boot upon the lowest rung and then says over his shoulder, "Or chances are mebbe you're the next one I'll be sent to bring in. Stay good, 'Lektra." He starts to climb.


"…I am… trying, Clint. That is rather the point." Elektra calls up after him, as he comments on her staying good. ANd, for once, there is not actually any joking in her voice. She actually sounds a little exhausted, uncertain, and so very alone. But she snaps out of it a heartbeat later and finishes with the bandage so she can lean over and pull on her shirt. Time to get out of this coop before she got too restless.


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