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It had been a few days since Clint had last stopped in to check in on his 'charge.' Which, if she had been aware of a routine, she might have realized it was out of the ordinary. It started for Clint on the day he came in to the office and saw the moving vans and the stream of people going in and out of the Baxter Building.
"Hey, Frank… what's all this?"
Frank, one of the other ACT-F operatives stops just outside of the doorway, carrying a cardboard box in his arms. "Didn't you hear? They pulled the rug out from under the op. ACT-F stands for ACT-Fucked."
Clint stands there in his 'suit' which is really more casual than it should be what with the loose tie and collar. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and crinkles his nose. "Wha?"
"Because of the catastrophe at the World's Fair." Frank frowns as he shifts from foot to foot."
"Crap, I mean… I knew somethin' was gonna go down."
"Yeah, like our jobs, into the toilet."
"Crap."
"Go get your stuff, not quick enough they'll toss it all."
"I don't have anythin' needs keepin'." Clint frowns and busts out a pack of cigs, lights one. "Crap. What about our ops, they hand them to other agencies?"
"No idea."
"Crap."
And with that, Clint had to go into the building, to try and find somebody speaking from a position of authority. It wasn't a good get, really. Some guy who was already scoping out a few offices for his personal use. Some guy named Gyrich? Meh. But he at least affirmed to Clint one thing.
"Yeah, all operations in progress are on hold for extraction."
"What about this ambassador gal?"
"Who?"
"Diana of Themiskeera."
"No idea,"
"Crap."
And then it was a few phone calls, a few words of varied intensity… and then Clint had to find himself on the way to the Ritz that Diana had been staying at. He showed up at her door, looking at least clean-shaven though a bit scruffy what with the suit at ease. He ashes his cigarette when the door opens and he tells her. "Alright, princess. We need to go for a walk. Get yer coat."
*
If her keeper wasn't around, Diana did what Diana does. She took to wandering the Ritz itself, making nice with a woman who offered to show her a parlour upon the main levels of the floor. Dressed in her garb as she was, which looked rather unkept yet polished, the older lady footed the bill for at least a pair of close that would have Diana pass for something a bit more.. normal.
If she wasn't as tall as she was.
It took a while, perhaps hours, for Diana to walk in heels. And while marveled at the shoes, she opted for something a little bit more flat. The bags were gathered and scattered across the room as she tried on outfit after outfit, easing her boredom with apples and oranges, delicate cuts of bread and other things whilst she waited for her Keepers return. And nothing.
Nothing yet.
This was unfair!
For right when she finally got the nerve to actually venture out on her own, a pencil skirt was slid upon her legs as well as a nice white blouse, an overcoat to match soon shrugged upon her shoulders as her sword.. well, it was shoved down her back and into the sheath that resided upon the harness beneath.
Her hair was fluffed out, considered, and left alone as she slipped her flat shoes on, and the opening of the door has her turning with a faint grimace. "Where have you been?" Starts the slew of questions. "Have you been watching me? Are there magics afoot?" She looks all around, suspicious, but that did not stop her from heading towards the door. "I was starting to feel like a prisoner."
*
"I know, my fault." Clint says as he looks up at her a bit, even small heels give her an edge over him. "Dunno if you've been watching television but… yeah, stuff has been happening." He steps into the room, looking for her jacket to perhaps help her. There's a reason they need to 'go for a walk' since chances are the room's probably under monitoring. Then again with how efficient the government has been lately… perhaps not. Still, better safe than sorry.
He does what little he can to help her get ready and starts to try and move the conversation back to the door and out should she allow. "Turns out with how things have gone down I'm now out of a job. So I'm officially not your liaison. Also, it's likely your request to see the people in power might have bureaucratically slipped through the cracks, considering the change to the government. And the tensions with the Russians. So… yeah."
He gestures with a thumb towards the door. "So we need to take a small stroll, talk some, and mebbe I can help you figure out what to do next. Sound good?"
*
"I have not. While I understand the workings of the technology I have had no need for such. Only human companionship." Well, Diana made a wrong move there, she should have been watching, for it would have prepared her for the conversation that was to come. As he musses around with finding her a coat, she opts for her cloak which was hung up nearer to the door, drawing it upon her shoulders and clasping it about her neck which makes her entire getup look incredibly odd.
But she does wait by the door, stepping out before he does so that it could be closed behind them, her lips pursed in such a thought as she turns to head down the hallway. "Yes. Though it would be wise to think of yourself first than others. Even though the gesture itself is admirable. We Amazonians always land upon our feet on any given situation, this shall be no different."
*
"Of course," He says as they step through the door and into the hallway. His brow furrows as he tries to explain the situation in terms that will result with a minimal re-explanation to clarify, so his terms are perhaps vague. "Basically, there was an attack at a large gathering. Some people were shot, there were some explosions, and because of it the United States and the Soviet Union are at odds, tensions are heightened more than they have been before. It's possible a shooting war might break out."
He glances at her as instead of heading to the elevator he actually chooses the stairs since less chance the whole stairwell might be bugged, not to mention the acoustics in such a place always plays havoc with recording devices. But he gestures for her to preceded him as he walks, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket as he starts down the first flight. "My organization was a group effort between both nations to try and forge a sort of an alliance. It failed, so I'm out of work and you… are going to need to do something else to be heard properly."
He pauses at the next flight, reflex and instinct making him ready to offer his hand to help her descent, but she doesn't need his help. "So don't worry about me, I'll be fine. But I figured I owed you an explanation and mebbe help you figure out what to do next."
*
"And has the culprit been found?" There were still questions, and quite possibly ideas. "Mayhap there was a purpose to this attack, to mount frustrations between two nations. If coming together could ease that, I'd like to bear witness." She glances towards Clint meaningfully, then follows his lead towards the stairwell. While she watches his back as he heads down the stairs, she finally begins to follow, her cloak flowing behind her as she keeps one hand upon the railing in the need of something to touch.
"But if that is not an option for me to be heard and speak my peace.. then I am unsure what my next modus would be. Mayhap assist in the effort of defending this nation, or any nation from injustice.." Though, even -that- was a skewed line.
As he pauses, she does as well, remaining upon the stairs with a knee bent, her chin lifting to give the go ahead for him to continue as she leans over the railing to look downward. "Habit?"
*
"Meh," He says, brushing past the question, but he tells her. "I'll elaborate once we're outside." And so he does, holding his words for a time as they descend. His manner is a bit somber, more serious than the last time they talked. But he does take the steps fairly quickly. It's a while to swirl down the thirty some stories, but better to err on the side of caution. At least that's his current mindset.
However, once he reaches the side door on the bottom floor that leads out of the hotel. Not out the front, but the more subtle exit under a long awning. It's enough for them to fall into step on the sidewalk, his hands once again in his pockets. "Alright, Princess. You tried to do it subtly, nicely, without really causing too much of a stir. At this point you might be in danger of being ignored. So you probably need to make sure that doesn't happen. If I were you, you'll need to assemble an entourage. You need more people around you to signify your importance. Some hangers on, courtiers, whatever. You should make an announcement to the press, and with that announcement you'll probably need to bribe some of the editors to give it a favorable tilt to it. Then you show up 'officially' although you're already here. Maybe you charter a passenger airplane or a cruise ship. Something to bring you in in style. Have a bunch of people tasked with drawing a crowd, getting recognition, making it an event. Then after you make a big enough stir… well /then/ the politicians will come to you. You'll probably be asked to address the U.N., and you can deliver your message and then do whatever you want from there."
As he finishes that mouthful he digs into his pockets. From within he produces a business card that just has a phone number on it. He hands it to her even as he lights the second object he conjures forth, that being a cigarette. "I know this might not be your thing, but this will probably at least get you heard. Call the number there, guy's name of George. He's something of a Kingmaker. Libya. Dubai. The Congo, he's had his hand in each one helping the current rulers getting heard."
*
Diana has partially disconnected.
*
This was the mode of travel that Diana was used to. She too takes the stairs with ease, almost imagining them as two on a caper and escaping something long chasing them which was far enough behind. Her hands remain clutched against the railing for goodness sakes, but once the door to the side of the hotel was breached, they hit the open air which instinctively has the Princess drawing her hood up over her head. Once in line and at an easier pace, Diana lets o ut a huff of air as she listens to his words.
"That'll be unsightly.." Diana murmurs quietly, taking a pause as she watches an elder woman cross the street not too far away. The instinct was to help, but dressed as she was, there were already eyes in their direction.
As the card was produced, Diana takes and studies it carefully, fingers flicking against the surface as she draws in a breath, putting the card within her top (even though she has pockets) to continue her walk. "I'll think about it. But I am very sure that I can make waves and make myself be heard. Unlike that .. Prince Loki fellow and his grand gestures.." At least she's -seen- that. "..I will take a more, delicate approach."
Which probably means she'll wind up smashing something to bits.
*
Eyes widening a bit with a hint of exasperation, Clint gives a small shrug of his shoulders and turns to fully face her. "All right, I mean I figured. But I didn't want to leave you hanging out there without some advice or insight on where to go next or what to do." His lip twitches slightly, "So I figure I've discharged what moral obligation I had at being your babysitter."
His voice and accent are changed a bit considering now with her he's technically not 'on the clock' anymore, but still. "You're gonna do what you wanna do, and nobody's gonna tell ya otherwise. Which is prolly one of the most endearing and most infuriating things about ya, Princess." He ashes his cigarette to the side and then leaves it in the corner of his mouth. "But hey, you keep in touch. If you ever get tired of the whole royalty thing. Give me a ring and I'll show you the sights some time."
*
"Your advice is well received, and may be taken as well. I am not a fool to dismiss the words from a man who's been in these lands for his entire life. To do so would be insanity." She looks towards him for a moment, one brow curled low as the other lifts, a grin soon followed as she adverts her gaze forward. "I am not a baby and you did not sit upon me. To even imply such is near hilarious." Hmph! Her chin lifts as her cloak flops to the side with the flit of her arm, revealing her business like shoulder.
Though, it was odd. No ones ever considered her mannerisms endearing, and it showed upon her face. But she straightens up again with a look of intent, then confusion, and intent again. "A ring? I shall have to propose marriage to see the sights of this city?" She looked almost sullen. "This is unfortunate. I was hoping that I could see the sights now while I formulate my plan.. but I suppose it's not meant to be just yet.."
*
"Hah," Clint stops walking and folds his arms over his chest, though they're still a bit near the awning of the hotel walkway, off away from the main thoroughfare. He lifts his chin slightly with a half-smirk on his lips, "A babysitter is a person that takes care of children, traditionally, but colloquially also means someone looking after another who is inexperienced. So hey, it fits."
But then he cuts off her following words with a lift of his hand as he tries to break in to clarify what 'ringing' means." Nah, I ain't exactly the marryin' kind. Cept that one time in Vegas. But…" Clint rubs at his chin, "I was meaning just call me, or ask me. And I'll do so."
He checks the silver watch on his wrist, then looks back to her. "I mean, not like I'm gainfully employed…" His brow furrows as he recalls, then adds. "Well, other than a favor I'm doin' fer a friend. But you got the time, I can run you around the city."
*