Ready or Not | Clintcho
WHEN: August 2009 WHERE: London, England
The two goddamn birds of the agency were going to have to fly out from the nest together eventually, and a pretty little gala set up in a pretty little part of London was the perfect rouge. He was the marksman and while she was right up that alley, it was time for her to learn how to play on the offense. Distraction was key, and they still lived in a time where a flashy olive dress proved useful to avert the eyes of strangers from the real trick. It was a magician’s perfect weapon, and while she much rather watch Barton be objectified for most of the night, it was her time to carry the stopwatch.
The mission? Simple, almost a little too easy: drop box the intel, meet with the Prime Minister herself to make sure SHIELD was on the right track with her Majesty’s Kingsman--
And assassinate a fellow diplomat somewhere in between, but that wasn’t her job.
“You wanna take a step in these heels?” she murmured to her companion beside her shoulder, fixing her dress without much finesse. Spandex were a royal bitch-- especially at the expense of latched weapons in case of an emergency. You couldn’t pick your fucking crotch in front of goddamn royalty and she was shit out of luck for trying. “Seriously, by all means, whenever you get an urge to grab ‘em off of me, you can. Should have asked if flats were an option.”