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shut up and put your money where your mouth is;
[so, this looks bad.
there's debris scattered as far as the eye can see, and almost as many bodies lining the floor as stray poker chips. the target is long gone, vanished without a trace somewhere in the middle of the firefight that had ensued. (he's that good; landing on SHIELD's radar had been no accident.) there's blood splattered all over clint's tuxedo, and natasha has a distinct suspicion that her ankle is sprained.
if "unsuccessful mission" had an entry in the dictionary, this would be the picture next to it.
to complete the image, there's even terrible elevator music still coming out of a couple of half-broken speakers.
breaths are still being caught, regrouping still needs to happen at some point, so that's why they're here - sitting on the floor with their guns at their feet and their backs to the bar, which has a couple of advantages: one, it's one of the few structures that's still intact in the place, and two, an endless supply of alcohol that clint certainly isn't above swiping. they have a bottle of vodka going between them now (she's lost count of what number this is), and the world's starting to spin a little. they could be using this time more wisely, but, honestly, at this moment, she doesn't care.
because there isn't enough booze in the world to handle this shit.]
Pass it. [- she says, reaching to forcibly remove the bottle from his hands. there is no indication of a "please" anywhere in there whatsoever.]
there's debris scattered as far as the eye can see, and almost as many bodies lining the floor as stray poker chips. the target is long gone, vanished without a trace somewhere in the middle of the firefight that had ensued. (he's that good; landing on SHIELD's radar had been no accident.) there's blood splattered all over clint's tuxedo, and natasha has a distinct suspicion that her ankle is sprained.
if "unsuccessful mission" had an entry in the dictionary, this would be the picture next to it.
to complete the image, there's even terrible elevator music still coming out of a couple of half-broken speakers.
breaths are still being caught, regrouping still needs to happen at some point, so that's why they're here - sitting on the floor with their guns at their feet and their backs to the bar, which has a couple of advantages: one, it's one of the few structures that's still intact in the place, and two, an endless supply of alcohol that clint certainly isn't above swiping. they have a bottle of vodka going between them now (she's lost count of what number this is), and the world's starting to spin a little. they could be using this time more wisely, but, honestly, at this moment, she doesn't care.
because there isn't enough booze in the world to handle this shit.]
Pass it. [- she says, reaching to forcibly remove the bottle from his hands. there is no indication of a "please" anywhere in there whatsoever.]