( the corkboard is, for all intents and purposes, the most organised clint barton tends to get, even if his apartment isn't untidy. there are hints as to his propensity for it, for when it gets the better of him — or when his life becomes busy enough that keeping his apartment tidy drops to the bottom of his priorities — in the small yet haphazard collection of discarded coffee mugs scattered about the apartment, the newspapers shoved to one side on the small table next to the sofa, the arrows laying in a pile across the top.
he pulls a face when gorgug mentions asking for a gun, his gaze dropping to give gorgug a once-over, curious and considering and, just a little, judgemental, like he's trying to work out what gorgug would want a gun for. what he'd do with a gun.
it's not like he's inherently opposed — he's dated spies! married one! — but guns are impersonal. they make it easy.
instead of saying that, instead of asking about the gun, he says— ) She and I, we got into semantics about my bow. I asked for it, she said it wouldn't be the same thing, blah blah, it'd be a copy. Seems to me like she deducts points for things that serve a purpose, and gives us stuff that serve an emotional need. I did try and argue that my bow's very comforting to me, but she didn't seem to buy it.
( all of this is to say, really, that, ) Which is what I reckon it comes down to more than luck. ( a breath of a pause in which clint returns to his coffee, glancing at the circle of wet it leaves behind as he picks it back up. eh, whatever, he'll deal with it later. ) And there's a whole lot more of us than there were when I got here. I figure she's having to split her attention more, having to be more selective. It's not like Etraya's gotten bigger as the population increases.
no subject
he pulls a face when gorgug mentions asking for a gun, his gaze dropping to give gorgug a once-over, curious and considering and, just a little, judgemental, like he's trying to work out what gorgug would want a gun for. what he'd do with a gun.
it's not like he's inherently opposed — he's dated spies! married one! — but guns are impersonal. they make it easy.
instead of saying that, instead of asking about the gun, he says— ) She and I, we got into semantics about my bow. I asked for it, she said it wouldn't be the same thing, blah blah, it'd be a copy. Seems to me like she deducts points for things that serve a purpose, and gives us stuff that serve an emotional need. I did try and argue that my bow's very comforting to me, but she didn't seem to buy it.
( all of this is to say, really, that, ) Which is what I reckon it comes down to more than luck. ( a breath of a pause in which clint returns to his coffee, glancing at the circle of wet it leaves behind as he picks it back up. eh, whatever, he'll deal with it later. ) And there's a whole lot more of us than there were when I got here. I figure she's having to split her attention more, having to be more selective. It's not like Etraya's gotten bigger as the population increases.