1964-09-22 - Home Life
Summary: Bobbi and Clint catch up after not having seen eachother for sometime.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
clint bobbi 

It's early evening at the Cigar Factory on a relatively quiet Thursday night. The usual crowd doesn't start to show up till much later in the evening, so Luke is busy at the bar dealing with the odd jobs that occur when one owns and operates the bar. Apparently, it is time to change out the kegs as Luke wanders though the room with a keg over each shoulder, whistling what sounds to be a Beatles tune as he makes his way around the counter.

The door opens, and in steps… well, if Medusa went to Catholic School, it would look remarkably similar to Delphyne. The young woman looks around curiously, then makes her way towards the bar, taking a seat there. Her yellow eyes scan the bottles behind the bar, head tilting a little bit as she attempts to decipher what all the liquors are. Currently, her snakes are bound back behind her with a scrunchie, a faint hissing occasionally coming from them.

Bobbi had been at the bar, black heeled boots, a pair of cherry red pants and a black turtle-neck shirt completed the look with a jean jacket. She had been quietly sitting there, sipping at a drink slowly, as she read over a newspaper. She didn't look in too much a hurry to get another drink, or to do much socializing. The blonde had been there before, and had found the bar to be at least amusing.

Her gaze lifting up to Luke as the man walked by with a whistle. She smirked faintly, picking up her drink and swirling the contents around idly.

Thea has gotten off a shift at the free clinic, and changed out of her nursing gear for something more fun. A rusty red short skirt with a deep brown blouse, blonde hair brushed loose and a pair of killer high heels. She's even humming as she heads into the bar, but that may be joy in the anticipation of booze. She's been here before, and well, anywhere good enough for certain ladies of her acquaintance was good enough for her. There's even a beaming smile for the bartender. It's hard to forget that one.

Stopping in his tracks as he sees the literal embodiment of Medusa walk into his bar, Luke eyes the Gorgon for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and continuing forward behind the bar. He sets down the pair of kegs with a heavy sounding *THUD* and turns his attention to her. "Evening, miss. What can I get for you?" He pauses, "And does your hair need some water or anything?"

Checking over Delphyne's shoulder he check to see how Bobbi's drink is, making a note to make a refresher for her on his next run past her table, and then turns to Thea as she walks in, returning her smile. "Hello again. What can I get for you tonight? Was it a martini last time, or was it the white wine?"

Delphyne grins at Luke, "Ah, hrm. I'm not sure, exactly. I haven't been to a bar before. Well, not like this anyway. Normally I prefer wine, but this seems like a place to have something a little different." At the question about her snakes, she laughs, "No, it doesn't quite work that way, they'll be fine." There's a sudden indignant hiss from behind her, and she adds, "… though they might be cranky at being tied back."

Thea moves to slide up onto a stool at the bar with only a momentary wary glance at the hissing. Luke gets a wide, bright grin. "Neither. I'll have a brandy, if you've got a decent one." There's even a wink, before she glances at Bobbi and then around. There may be a mental note of doors and exits and the like, before her hand rests on the bar.

"Well, I have wine if you want wine. If you want to try something different, I can offer just about anything. I just need to know what you like and I might be able to make a suggestion." Luke says as he picks up a towel from behind the bar and wipes down the area in front of Delphyne. At the hiss, Luke's eyes flick back to the hair and shrugs a shoulder. "I would probably be cranky to if I was tied up like that."

"What if I don't have a decent one?" asks Luke to Thea, grinning as he pulls a glass from the rack behind him and then searches for a bottle on the shelves. Finding what he is looking for, Luke pours a nice amount of the dark amber liquid into the snifter glass before setting it down in front of Thea. "Hopefully this will be ok for your palate."

Thea smirks at Luke. "I suppose I'd have to try it to know. Then I can look for something else I like." There's a grin, and money slid up on the bar. "I'm sure it will be fine."

Delphyne laughs very softly, her accent deep and sounding vaguely Greek, but a little different, "Ah hmmm. Something with a bit of a smoky flavor, perhaps? I admit I'm not that familiar with the whiskey and such of this land." She shrugs a bit, "I don't wish to frighten people too much if I have them loose. Not that there's any danger, but you couldn't tell them that. Frankly, most think that I can turn them to stone with a look." She looks mildly amused at the notion.

Luke Cage nods to Deplhyne and snatches up a tumbler from under the bar. He reaches behind him and picks up a bottle from the shelf, uncapping it and pouring a couple of fingers of scotch into the glass before sliding it in front of her. "Try that, see how you like it." He pauses, putting the bottle back, "This land? Where are you from?"

He looks over to Thea and grins. "Well, hopefully it is." he says, collecting the money from the bar and moving it over to the till. "If not, we will find something else for you." He takes the change, and slides it onto the bar in front of Thea.

Thea side-eyes the woman again, that accent making her ears perk. "I don't think they carry Mextaxa or Tentura, here, though there are some nice import places that carry very nice brands." She says lightly, a hand through her hair before she picks up the brandy to sip at, watching Luke with mischief in her eyes as she sips at brandy. She will turn and regard Delphyne, brandy glass held by fingertips. She's rather curious herself, after hearing the accent.

Delphyne grins at Luke, "We like to call it Paradise Island. It's a rather nice place, though sadly, no men allowed." She gets a bit of a cheeky look as she regards Luke, "There are some times where that's too bad, but occasionally we like to scout out what's happening in the outside world." Is she being serious or not, it's hard to tell…

Luke Cage chuckles, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms over his chest. "Paradise Island? Your telling me that you come from an island, that has no men on it. Hell, sounds like a paradise to me." He winks at the Gorgon before looking over at Thea, "Are those brands I should carry? I don't have many 'specialty' names, since most of my clientele won't pay for it. Though I have had a few more upper crust types in here recently, so maybe I should expand."

Brown eyes shift back to Luke, a soft hint of a smile. "They're types of liquer, not brands, that are native to Greece. They're delicious, but possibly not for the masses. I'm not sure what the best brands are for your bottom line and or clientele." There's a shrug. "Maybe I'll bring you a bottle, just to let you taste."

Delphyne chuckles. "Most men would say that." She leaves it at that, then hmmms, "I'm a little familiar with ouzo, but that's mainly from seeing it at restaurants here in New York."

Luke Cage laughs, "Yeah, yeah I bet they would. I've become a cliche." He grins, turning to Thea, "Well, that right there explains why I don't carry it. I'd never heard of them. Hell, with a name like Mextaxa I would have thought they might have been tequilas." He looks at the clock on the wall and lets out a little sigh. "Well, you will have to excuse me ladies. I need to take care of something in the back. If you need anything, holler and either I or Roy will help you out." Luke starts to walk around the bar, calling out into the back, "Roy? Need you in the front, man."

"Thank the heavens, no. I prefer the tentura for the clove and cinnamon flavors, myself." She watchs Del curiously. "Ouzo is.. well, it's more for an old man sort of thing. But I am not a huge fan of the anise flavors." She'll waggle her fingers in farewell at Luke, before sipping more brandy.

Delphyne hmms, "Well, we don't have old men where I'm from." She grins a bit slyly at that, "Though I will try this bourbon. That sounds interesting to me." She nods towards Roy, placing money on the counter, "On the… rocks, I believe you would say?"

"Trust me. I'm well versed in the drinks of old men. My grandfather used to like me to be around for their after dinner drinks and cigars." She smiles, swirling the brandy in her glass. "Bourbon is nice. Vodka is another choice with less… flavor."

Delphyne chuckles, "Well, that doesn't sound like it's very fun." She takes the bourbon on ice, and looks over at Thea with a curious glance, "Delphyne." And with that, she raises a glass in a bit of a toast, then takes a sip. She blinks, then hmms, "Interesting."

"I love my grandfather, and I learned a lot, actually." There's a wicked little grin. "And they liked to tip me for pouring their drinks." There'sa little chuckle. "Thea." She will return the toast. "There's a lot of interesting liquors."

Delphyne hmms, "Well, as I said, we don't really have much experience with that. A little bit of brewing takes place on the island, but we mostly focus on wine." She tilts her head, regarding Thea, "A good name, that."

There's a lift of her eyebrows. "It's not my full name, of course. I was named Althea, after my great-grandmother. And there's nothing like Greek wine, to be sure. Or.. Paradise Island wine, yes?"

Delphyne laughs softly, "Close enough to Greek, really. It's a bit of a long story." She hmms, "Or well, maybe not so long. But it's definitely been… educational, spending time here."

"Your accent hinted at Greece, hence my suggestion of Mextaxa." Thea confesses, another small sip of the brandy. "Gorgons are famed in Greece, is it so long a story?"

Delphyne hmms, "Well, you know that Medusa was slain by Perseus… and she had two sisters. The two sisters sought shelter with the Amazons, and I am one of their descendants." She grins a little wryly, "Althea, daughter of Thestius and Eurythemis, sister to Leda and wife of Oeneus, the king of Calydon."

"Interesting family history, seeking shelter with the Amazons. The whole no men on your island thing makes sense now." There's a tilt of her head at the Mythology reference. "Supposedly a mother of two children by gods and not her husband, and the murderer, according to some, of her son." There's a smirk there. "Alas, I am no queen. I am, however, a healer."

Delphyne finishes her drink, then nods, "Ah, a healer. An honored profession." She smiles, "I am simply a warrior. Though currently, in this world, I work as a detective." She mmms, "Interesting drink. I shall have to come back to try some other ones. Good evening, Althea." And with that, the gorgon gracefully walks out of the bar.

There is a place that still exists that is technically considered both Bobbi and Clint's place. Technically. Between Clint's pretty consistent away missions or cover missions, Bobbi's duties with the newly blooming avengers, Clint's also pretty consistent hospital stays, both of them keeping SHIELD pleased and whatever else that keeps both of them funning at full speed most of the time, there's just not a whole lot of time that the weird married couple got to spend 'making a home' or whatever the hell you're supposed to do.

Clint's here today. In the middle of the day, though you wouldn't guess by looking at him. The guy's dressed in sweatpants and a faded yellow tee shirt that he should've thrown away months ago judging by the fraying around the collar. An empty bowl sits on the floor next to the couch where he has propped his bare feet up and is doing elevated push ups while watching the black and white television about two feet from his face. Gilligan's Island. "You can make all that crap, but you can't patch a few boat holes. I'm disappointed, in you, Bob."

Bobbi came out of the kitchen in little more than a pair of jeans and a red hot colored tank-top. Her golden hair sweeping over her shoulders and he bare-feet padding softly against the riotous colored carpeted floors. She held a spoon perched above her yogurt container, staring at Clint for a long moment. She seemed to puzzle over the sight of her husband sitting on the couch. Such an odd sight to her. She hadn't seen him in ages. Yet here she was. Married. The term sounded strange even in her mind.

"You better not be talking to me, honey. Because I know the exactly chemical composition to make a patch on most boat hulls." She smiled, and it was a bright, cheery thing as she came around to plop down onto the couch beside him. A twist around and she was pressing a kiss against his cheek.

Clint's feet shift a little bit on the couch cushion they're planted on, pushing up all the way, his arms lock and the guy looks up when Bobbi comes into the room. The very picture of 'what the hell did I just get caught doing?' and trying to decide just how guilty he should look.

Nah. Nah! He's good. He's not doing anything suspicious. Yeah, he's good. Clint pulls his feet off the couch and stands himself upright. "Huh? Oh. No, not you, Bob Denver," Gesturing to the television he was practically face-smashed against while he tried to get a work out in. "You seen this? It's hilarious. It's a step by step on how to do it wrong." Clint smirks and drops back to the couch beside Bobbi when she sits down, accepting the kiss with a crooked grin.

Bobbi laughed lightly as she settled back against the couch's soft cushioned frame. She rarely spent time on it, much less watching TV. The living might as well be a set piece for all the time either one of them spent time on it. "No. Can't say I've had much in terms of free time. I've had my nose buried in a few too many lab reports to see the light of day for the past three weeks. Then before that I had a good few weeks on mission." She shrugged, and wrinkled her nose faintly at the memory of it.

"Sharon and Carol congratulated us, by the way." She flashed Clint a grin, wiggling her eyebrows up and down as she clamped down on a spoonful of yogurt.

"We went drinking and had a hen party. Delayed.. but yeah."

"That's probably for the best," Clint squints at the television while Gilligan tries to make a raft and ties it /all wrong/. "I get the feeling this would drive you apeshit." Multitasking! It's a thing Clint does very well. He has two modes; off and on, and when he's on, if he doesn't keep himself busy, well…bad shit tends to happen. "Lab reports. The very reason kids run away to join the circus. To avoid shit like that." Clint smirks good-naturedly over at Bobbi, "Better you than me. That doesn't stop them from dropping banker boxes of dossiers in my lap but, eh…" The archer shrugs and leans in too close to get a look into bobbi's yogurt.

An eyebrow arches upward over the mention of a hen party and congratulations. "So you let them in on it, huh? Heh, how'd that go over?" Already getting restless, Clint leans back into the crook of the couch's arm and back, fingers tapping against the upholstery.

Bobbi grinned over at her husband, a cackle held back only behind her teasing lips as she continued to put away the contents of her strawberry flavoured yogurt. "I'll take your word for it. Inaccurate shows tend to do that. Same with books. I really don't get how hard it would be for them to at least research the proper way that various chemical compounds interact with one another. It's so simple!" She muttered, rolling her eyes as she stabbed at the yogurt container with her spoon.

"Anyways, how have you been sweetie? Stationed over seas?" She arched a brow upwards as she glanced him over and then laughed softly.

"Well enough. Course there was a hot bar-tender so.. there's that."

Clint props an elbow up on the couch arm, resting a rough cheek against the heel of his palm. "Probably because they're on a desert island in a sound studio in hollywood, pretending to make putty out of mangos and sugar." Clint purposely shoots the horse, entirely too amused over riling Bobbi up.

There's a loose shrug from Clint when she asks how he's doing, gaze slipping mundanely over toward the set again while he thinks about turning it off. "Not so much over seas, no. They got a lot of focus out there, but the've been keeping me internal, bouncing all over the country. We both know that I'm not exactly the soldiering type," Clint grins rakishly and scrubs at the back of his head, as if it were a point of pride that he keeps his rakish disposition. "What about you? How's the babysitting gig?"

"Ooh-la-la a hot bartender? Do I need to go beat anyone down?"

Another light hearted laugh followed and Bobbi shook her head. "Mangos and sugar? Dear god, they must want to attract an army of ants or wasps. Hell.." She chortled lightly, clapping a hand over her lips as she struggled to halt the giggles that bubbled up from her throat. She reached out to lightly swat at him with the back of her free hand.

"I have been actually flown over seas and back more times than I can count. I dunno the details other than they needed an expert over there for a few weeks. It's all hush hush and need to know." She huffed a breath and then giggled openly at the comment about the bartender.

"I dunno honey, he's from Harlem and quite buff."

Clint scoffs and casts a cocky grin in Bobbi's direction when she said the guy was buff. "So he's a meathead. Good. They're always slower than you might expect. Easier to pick off." Blond eyebrows pop up and waggle a little bit, playfully.

Bobbi rolled her eyes and made a dramatic groaning sound as she elbowed Clint, trying and failing to hide the grin on her lips. "He's really easy on the eyes. Sweet too for a bartender. He even gave me a drink on the house." She ribbed, and broke out into laughter as soon as she caught sight of Clint's wiggling, waggling eyebrows.

"I dunno, you'll have to explain to Carol, and Sharon both why their favorite bartender has an arrow in his head. I doubt they'll be happy either honey."

Elbowed, Clint feigns extreme pain, clutching his side and groaning for about five solid seconds before becoming miraculously healed once more. "Well if he's a nice guy, I guess I can forgive him for being too damn good looking for his own good." Pushing up form his corner of the couch, Clint tips over, practically knocking over Bobbi's yogurt as he topples over, catching himself on the arm and back of the couch with his arms, trying to smother kiss his wife. "But only because I'm pretty sure Carol would snap me in half."

Bobbi rolled her eyes once more as Clint groaned, and shook her head, polishing off the rest of her yogurt as best she could.. at least until said husband was tipping over her and nearly upsetting the container all over her jeans. She yelped, and then his arms were around her and she was holding the yogurt, and spoon well above both of their heads. Her other arms slinking around his shoulders as she quite willing returned the sloppy, smothering, smooch.

"Cute." She added, pecking at his lips.

"I still married you for some reason though."

Clint makes himself right at home, collapsing the rest of the way on the couch while Bobbi holds her yogurt up over her head, sparing them both the mystery stains in the wash later. In deference to the 'trapped' woman, Clint holds his weight up on his arms while he grins at her. "Because you were drunk and /I/ look good in sleeveless shirts," he responds cheekily and winks, demanding another peck. Then another. Then another.

Bobbi streeetched her arm out toward the end table, setting the yogurt down on it as it became increasingly clear that Clint had no intention of getting off her nor letting her finish her brunch-time snack. She hmm'ed dramatically, still fighting the urge to grin and failing utterly. She swatted at his cheek as he came in for another peck on her lips followed by a rapid succession.

"Clint Barton! You're terrible!" She laughed outright then, and curled her other arm around him. Seeming more than content to simply enjoy the moment she'd been given with the man she'd been married to for months and had hardly seen.

"Yeah, and?" Clint asks with a crooked grin as he sinks in to give Bobbi another kiss, this one a little more on the promising side. "Nobody said you made good decisions, Bobbi Morse."

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