Natasha & Clint -- To Be Human
:: CONTINUED FROM HERE:: @ogbirdguy
Her gaze remains trained on the bar, for in that moment there are few things she can think to say in response. Interesting, is after all subjective, and the redhead is yet to find anybody befitting of such a description.
It’s no more than a usual weekend in the city. Busy commuters have hung up their jackets for the evening, in a bid to let off steam. Forget the woes of paperwork left on their desks, e-mails unread in business accounts, impending informal discussions from their superiors determined to assert their dominance.
The mere thought bores her, it’s a life she has never found appealing. To sit behind a desk and while away hours unblinkingly at a computer screen. Adrenaline coursing through her veins is what spurs her on, to know that she is working for the greater good, alongside those she can trust.
Now she has always been of the belief she is a good judge of character, and by extension, is able to read people well. Some would say a little too well. There’s a certain slump to the archers frame, the droop of his shoulders, the way his head hangs, and since he sidled up to her, she hasn’t seen hide nor hair of the lopsided smile he is usually all too willing to supply her with.
No, something else lingers behind those eyes.
The man at the end of the bar is drinking away the last of his pay-cheque. His wife has left him, taken the kids, the house and the dog. He’s currently living in the motel across the street out of his suitcase….. Bartenders after all are the best therapists this city has to offer.”
There’s a pause, cocktail glass lifted to her lips once more, the burn against her lips and tongue is welcomed, it at least gives her something to focus on. With the glass settled upon the smooth marble surface one more, she eventually looks up at the archer, deep green orbs burning into the depths of his baby blues.
🕷There’s the young blonde behind the bar, working three jobs to go to college and raise a son on her own…. The faded tan line on her ring finger…..Shows she tried to make a go of things with her little boys father….But it wasn’t meant to be….”
All of the information she’s feeding him, she knows to be the last thing he wishes to hear, so she focuses her attention solely on him. A crooked finger slips beneath his chin, affording him no chance to look away. There’s a story he isn’t telling her, something dancing across the tip of his tongue.
🕷” Then there’s the archer, so consumed in his own thoughts, he is totally unaware of his own surroundings….. What’s going on in that mind of yours, Barton?”
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