Clint and Pietro, October 10
Oct. 10th, 2014 04:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainWhile searching for Halloween inspiration, Clint runs into Pietro in town. Pietro finds he likes the guy a lot better when he's not trying to date his sister. Clint finds torturing him amusing. Shopping ensues.
"Iiiii've got a call from my bear gonna take all his honey-honey..." Pietro sang along to his headphones, bobbing slightly up and down as he sucked another tapioca pearl up the gigantic, hot pink straw in his green milk-tea. He was trying to save money for Italy--not to mention birthday stuff--but man, he really liked the jewelry in this boutique, and he needed some kind of cute earring to wear to Shinobi's birthday, right?
Ugh, why couldn't he be rich, already? He'd give most of it away. He just wanted some earrings. And clothes. And music. And furniture. And--
Ugh.
Dressed in a battered gray t-shirt stained with grease, his nose smudged, his jeans a little white and worn around the edges, Clint tried not to look too conspicuous picking his way down the quaint New England street. Hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders a little hunched, he peeked in each shop, grumbling a little under his breath. He had yet to see a costume shop, or anything about Halloween, except for the random directions strung up in windows here and there. He'd even ducked into one place that looked promising, only to find out that they sold bath salts and lotion. Which...you know, even though it smelled amazing, was not what he was looking for. Basically, Tony Stark was a liar.
He was just about ready to give up and head to the bus stop when he saw a familiar shock of white hair. Curious as to what he was staring at, and seeing that Wanda's brother was way too engaged to hear him anyway, he slid up beside the other teen, peering through the shop's window at the jewelry on display.
Pietro was bobbing his head and mouthing the words to Honeybear for another second or two before he made up his mind. He turned--slowly for him, but suddenly for anyone else--and then had to stop on a dime to avoid running into Gigantic Blond Dude. "Oh! Barton! Sup?" Pietro pulled out one of his earbuds and sucked up another tapioca pearl. Then wrinkled his nose. "Have you been cleaning chimneys or something?"
Clint rolled his eyes bodily at the older teen. "I work a few blocks down, at Wilson's garage. But, I dunno, it's a little like chimney-sweeping, really." He paused and glanced toward the jewelry. "You thinking of getting another piercing?"
"I wish. I really want my eyebrow done but I'm afraid it'll grow out too fast." Pietro frowned at the smudge on Clint's nose. "Was just considering a new earring but I'm trying to save my money for next month and--
"Okay can I just get this for you, seriously?" Pietro got his thumb wet with some condensation from his bubble tea then held it up to Clint's nose.
Clint blinked, going cross-eyed as he tried to see what was on his nose. "Uh."
Quickly--but not quickly enough to hurt him or rub off any skin or anything--Pietro wiped the smudge off Clint's nose, leaving it clean and a little bit wet. "There. Phew. Okay, you're all pretty again. Sorry it was just like, I was trying to talk to you but I could only see this giant grease spot on your face."
The blond boy grinned up at the other teen, boyish and smug. "Aw, you think I'm pretty."
Pietro pursed his lips, trying not to smirk in amusement and failing. It was a lot easier to like Barton now he knew Wanda wasn't interested. Go figure. "Yeah, you know, you've really got something going for you in that like musclebound, old timey way. Like the big dumb sharpshooter in Sherwood Forest, or maybe the biggest mouth at the Round Table. Something like that."
Anyone else might have been offended at the comment. Clint, who knew full well he wasn't as smart as most of the kids at Xavier's, and also preferred to be underestimated, just laughed. "Yeah? Think I could pull off the tights? I have a great ass."
"You do," Pietro said candidly, seeing no reason to pretend otherwise. His opinion of Clint's mouth and brains might not have been sky-high, but no one could deny the boy's fineness.
"Decided on a Halloween costume yet? You should totally tailor it to your ass, whatever it is." He sucked on his huge straw some more, snagging a few more pearls in the process, the full force of his undivided curiosity fixed on Clint.
Clint reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, making a little grimace. "That's what I'm out here trying to do. I wanted to do this viking thing, you know, like from that TV show? But I don't know where to go."
"Holy shit," Pietro said, standing a little straighter and brightening immediately at the prospect. "That's perfect. Waaaaayyy better than a Merry Man or a Knight of the Round Table." And it wasn't often Pietro admitted that someone else, let alone someone he thought of seriously inferior intellect, had a better idea than him.
"Don't sweat it, dude; we can definitely find some raw materials down here and then Wanda can make it happen. She's magic--not just in the Scarlet Witch way."
Clint's eyes brightened in realization. "Yeaaah. She does all that sewing and knitting stuff, right? Does she...I mean, can she do stuff with leather? I was thinking, some gauntlets kind of like my shooting gloves, but, you know, medieval and shit."
Pietro frowned. "I don't know, honestly; the kind of leather I usually want is not the kind you'd ask your sister to make for you, if you know what I mean. But I'll bet Mom could help her out if she needed it. Mom can make, like, anything.
"You know what--we should go over to that Thrifty Puppy place where the weird kids work and see if they have anything we can re-purpose."
At that, Clint gave Pietro a side-eye. "We?" Pietro had made it pretty clear he didn't much like him, or really have a high opinion of him, and that was fine, but it made him cautious of the sudden collaboration.
"Yes, we, I have officially taken charge of the Clint-as-Viking project," Pietro reported. Then, "I mean, unless you don't trust my stylistic judgment. Which I think we can both agree is superior to, like, everyone else's, so I'm not sure that'd be the best move, but hey, it's your fine ass you'll be wasting, not mine."
Clint regarded him curiously for a moment, then inhaled and rolled a shrug, the taut muscles of his arms bowing and curving as he did so. "Just so long as I don't have to wear a corset. I just don't have the figure."
"I could make it work, but you're not wrong," Pietro acknowledged. He was aware of Clint's scrutiny, but didn't mind, or particularly feel like making his interest--which was entirely whimsical--clear.
"But we gotta do something to show off those guns. Come on, let's see what we can find." He started towards the thrift shop after openly appreciating Clint's marvelous arms for a moment. Well, okay, there was some jealousy in the look too. Pietro was all muscle, god knew, after two years of working out and eating everything in sight, but he would never, ever be huge like that. Dammit.
Clint fell into step beside him, well-aware that if Pietro wanted to outpace him at any given moment, he could do it and still make him look like an ass. Part of him just couldn't wrap his brain around being as fast as he'd been told Pietro was. He'd also noticed the envious look, but politely ignored it. "So what are you wearing?"
"Weirdly, I still have no idea. Usually I am so up on this shit but... I don't know." Pietro shrugged, finishing off his bubble tea with a loud slurp. "I guess I'll just ask Wanda what she wants and we can do a thing. Last year we did Peter Pan and Captain Hook. Was pretty sweet."
The archer's face lit up, eyes sparkling. "Oh, tell me she was Captain Hook."
"Damn right she was--and the best one anyone's ever seen. There are probably pictures." Pietro didn't mind, now that he knew Clint was never gonna get it. Hey, he knew his sister was hot; so long as they didn't step over the line, he couldn't really object to anyone admiring her. He was kinda proud, truth be told.
Clint laughed, high and bright. "Okay, definitely going to have to try to find those. Fuck, she scares the shit out of me on a regular basis." He definitely did not mention how hot it was when she did. "I can't imagine what she'd do in that get-up."
"She was truly terrifying, in the best possible way," Pietro assured him with a little snort of laughter. "But it was kinda my idea, since I wanted to be Pan, so I figure it's her turn this year. Also I am kinda in 'don't give a fuck' senior mode already, so there's that." He tossed his cup into a garbage can as they passed it.
Up close, slowed down, it was clear that Clint's gaze followed everything. Or, at least everything his brain could process, briefly flicking toward the thrown cup, then back, sharp and quick and steady. Even as he quirked a grin at Pietro, his eyes managed to track the turn of a car down the street and a girl exiting a nearby shop. "I'm not sure that's senior mode so much. I mean, I only give half a damn."
Pietro would never have admitted it--not yet, anyhow--but he was impressed with Clint's obvious perceptiveness. Maybe Barton wasn't a total idiot... maybe he just had diarrhea of the mouth at idiotic times? Hmm. This bore further investigation. "Well, I think it's relative to how much of a damn you gave before. I used to give several very large damns about parties and all that. Planned most of them for the last two years, honestly. Now I'm like looking for any excuse to pawn them off."
"Sounds more like you've lost interest in people than school," Clint shrugged.
"That's not inaccurate," Pietro agreed, impressed again. "But for me, the people were always the school. Classes, all that academic shit, that's like the blink of an eye for me."
Clint lifted his eyebrows at the older teen. "So your brain goes that fast too? All the time, or just when you want it to?"
"You know how when you go to the grocery store and have to wait in line for the check-out, and there's this like ninety-five-year-old woman in front of you? And even if she's super sweet and you just helped her carry all her groceries, she pulls out her check book and you just groan internally, because you know--you know she's gonna take goddamn forever to fill that mother out? And then she does, and you're stuck standing there with your, like pack of gum and bottle of water, because that's all you wanted, but this old lady is taking like fifty years to write out her check of all old school things, and all you wanted was a stick of gum and a drink of water?
"Yeah," Pietro finished with a cocked eyebrow. "That's pretty much every interaction in my whole life. Because no, I can't turn it off."
Clint slowed down. Really slow, his steps crawling, like slo-mo on slo-mo, with such patience and steady precision as he opened his mouth, eyebrows lifting, lips forming the drawn out words, "Nooooooo shiiiiiiiiittt..."
Pietro shuddered at the added slowness, seriously contemplating just running to the shop and letting Clint catch up later because ohmigoddddddddddd. "Yes. Right now. That is literally what I'm doing just so you can keep up with me."
The younger teen continued to exaggeratedly slow everything he did, clearly enjoying driving Pietro up the wall. "Thaaaat isssss fuuuucccckkkeeed uuuuuuuup."
Trusting Clint's warped and cruel sense of humor to cue him in on it being just a joke, Pietro made himself free to say, in a deadpan that would've done Arthur proud, "Do you know what happens to things when they get punched at 800 miles per hour? Because we could find out."
"Ooh, can we?" Clint asked, amused. Still, he slipped easily back into normal speed. At least, for him.
"Keep doing that and we can try it on your face," Pietro said sweetly. Then a beat, barely there, before Pietro said, "Stop doing it and we can totally try it on something else. It looks really cool. Shit just explodes."
Clint raised a brow, looking genuinely intrigued. "Yeah? I actually wouldn't mind watching that. You ever tried recording it?"
"Yeah but you need really hi def cameras to get the good shit. I mean, honestly, as annoying as it is the way I see shit is super, super pretty. Physics is pretty awesome," Pietro admitted.
That prompted a hum. Clint thought that it was pretty awesome too, especially when it came to how his arrows flew, and he had a grasp of the basic concept, but he'd gotten a glimpse at one of the physics textbooks a couple weeks ago, and it had given him a serious case of the hives.
Pietro was still considering, though. "Bet Tony could come up with something that'd catch me. Or--one of the other weird rich kids' companies has something already."
"You should do it. Ask Tony," Clint agreed. "He needs the distraction."
Pietro snorted. "I somehow assumed that Steve would be enough distraction, even for Tony."
"You would think so!" Clint blurted. "But dude is still hiding away in that workshop of his so he can't be all that distracting, right?"
"I'll make a note to tell him to up his game." Pietro smirked as they rounded the corner to the thrift shop. "Even Steve has to sleep sometimes. I'm not convinced Tony does."
"Tony sleeps. I've seen the keyboard-hair," Clint assured him. Of course, that could just be Tony's normal hair, so Clint decided not to give it too much thought. He paused in front of the thrift shop, eying it warily. "So you think this place will have costume stuff?"
Pietro snorted in amusement at the keyboard-hair comment, pulling open the door and stepping through, but making sure to hold it so Clint could grab it after. "No. But they'll have affordable stuff we can repurpose. Leather, faux-fur, all that stuff."
Clint ducked in behind him, letting his gaze dart around. Even this place was nicer than most of the places he'd grown up getting clothes from, but he'd been in there once or twice before since arriving at Xavier's. Most of what he had came from the military surplus store, or Goodwill, or the bait shop on fifth, but he had at least one shirt he'd picked up from the thrift shop.
Course, that had been before all these costume parties. "There aren't that many more of these things, right? Where everyone dresses up?"
Pietro shrugged, already digging through one of the racks. "Halloween and the Masquerade are the staples, but sometimes someone gets a bright idea for a theme party. One year we did Valentine's--which was not my idea, by the way, but it came off pretty well."
"Shit," Clint cursed as he headed for another set of racks. "Then I'd better get with the program or next time I'm screwed."
"Iiiii've got a call from my bear gonna take all his honey-honey..." Pietro sang along to his headphones, bobbing slightly up and down as he sucked another tapioca pearl up the gigantic, hot pink straw in his green milk-tea. He was trying to save money for Italy--not to mention birthday stuff--but man, he really liked the jewelry in this boutique, and he needed some kind of cute earring to wear to Shinobi's birthday, right?
Ugh, why couldn't he be rich, already? He'd give most of it away. He just wanted some earrings. And clothes. And music. And furniture. And--
Ugh.
Dressed in a battered gray t-shirt stained with grease, his nose smudged, his jeans a little white and worn around the edges, Clint tried not to look too conspicuous picking his way down the quaint New England street. Hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders a little hunched, he peeked in each shop, grumbling a little under his breath. He had yet to see a costume shop, or anything about Halloween, except for the random directions strung up in windows here and there. He'd even ducked into one place that looked promising, only to find out that they sold bath salts and lotion. Which...you know, even though it smelled amazing, was not what he was looking for. Basically, Tony Stark was a liar.
He was just about ready to give up and head to the bus stop when he saw a familiar shock of white hair. Curious as to what he was staring at, and seeing that Wanda's brother was way too engaged to hear him anyway, he slid up beside the other teen, peering through the shop's window at the jewelry on display.
Pietro was bobbing his head and mouthing the words to Honeybear for another second or two before he made up his mind. He turned--slowly for him, but suddenly for anyone else--and then had to stop on a dime to avoid running into Gigantic Blond Dude. "Oh! Barton! Sup?" Pietro pulled out one of his earbuds and sucked up another tapioca pearl. Then wrinkled his nose. "Have you been cleaning chimneys or something?"
Clint rolled his eyes bodily at the older teen. "I work a few blocks down, at Wilson's garage. But, I dunno, it's a little like chimney-sweeping, really." He paused and glanced toward the jewelry. "You thinking of getting another piercing?"
"I wish. I really want my eyebrow done but I'm afraid it'll grow out too fast." Pietro frowned at the smudge on Clint's nose. "Was just considering a new earring but I'm trying to save my money for next month and--
"Okay can I just get this for you, seriously?" Pietro got his thumb wet with some condensation from his bubble tea then held it up to Clint's nose.
Clint blinked, going cross-eyed as he tried to see what was on his nose. "Uh."
Quickly--but not quickly enough to hurt him or rub off any skin or anything--Pietro wiped the smudge off Clint's nose, leaving it clean and a little bit wet. "There. Phew. Okay, you're all pretty again. Sorry it was just like, I was trying to talk to you but I could only see this giant grease spot on your face."
The blond boy grinned up at the other teen, boyish and smug. "Aw, you think I'm pretty."
Pietro pursed his lips, trying not to smirk in amusement and failing. It was a lot easier to like Barton now he knew Wanda wasn't interested. Go figure. "Yeah, you know, you've really got something going for you in that like musclebound, old timey way. Like the big dumb sharpshooter in Sherwood Forest, or maybe the biggest mouth at the Round Table. Something like that."
Anyone else might have been offended at the comment. Clint, who knew full well he wasn't as smart as most of the kids at Xavier's, and also preferred to be underestimated, just laughed. "Yeah? Think I could pull off the tights? I have a great ass."
"You do," Pietro said candidly, seeing no reason to pretend otherwise. His opinion of Clint's mouth and brains might not have been sky-high, but no one could deny the boy's fineness.
"Decided on a Halloween costume yet? You should totally tailor it to your ass, whatever it is." He sucked on his huge straw some more, snagging a few more pearls in the process, the full force of his undivided curiosity fixed on Clint.
Clint reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, making a little grimace. "That's what I'm out here trying to do. I wanted to do this viking thing, you know, like from that TV show? But I don't know where to go."
"Holy shit," Pietro said, standing a little straighter and brightening immediately at the prospect. "That's perfect. Waaaaayyy better than a Merry Man or a Knight of the Round Table." And it wasn't often Pietro admitted that someone else, let alone someone he thought of seriously inferior intellect, had a better idea than him.
"Don't sweat it, dude; we can definitely find some raw materials down here and then Wanda can make it happen. She's magic--not just in the Scarlet Witch way."
Clint's eyes brightened in realization. "Yeaaah. She does all that sewing and knitting stuff, right? Does she...I mean, can she do stuff with leather? I was thinking, some gauntlets kind of like my shooting gloves, but, you know, medieval and shit."
Pietro frowned. "I don't know, honestly; the kind of leather I usually want is not the kind you'd ask your sister to make for you, if you know what I mean. But I'll bet Mom could help her out if she needed it. Mom can make, like, anything.
"You know what--we should go over to that Thrifty Puppy place where the weird kids work and see if they have anything we can re-purpose."
At that, Clint gave Pietro a side-eye. "We?" Pietro had made it pretty clear he didn't much like him, or really have a high opinion of him, and that was fine, but it made him cautious of the sudden collaboration.
"Yes, we, I have officially taken charge of the Clint-as-Viking project," Pietro reported. Then, "I mean, unless you don't trust my stylistic judgment. Which I think we can both agree is superior to, like, everyone else's, so I'm not sure that'd be the best move, but hey, it's your fine ass you'll be wasting, not mine."
Clint regarded him curiously for a moment, then inhaled and rolled a shrug, the taut muscles of his arms bowing and curving as he did so. "Just so long as I don't have to wear a corset. I just don't have the figure."
"I could make it work, but you're not wrong," Pietro acknowledged. He was aware of Clint's scrutiny, but didn't mind, or particularly feel like making his interest--which was entirely whimsical--clear.
"But we gotta do something to show off those guns. Come on, let's see what we can find." He started towards the thrift shop after openly appreciating Clint's marvelous arms for a moment. Well, okay, there was some jealousy in the look too. Pietro was all muscle, god knew, after two years of working out and eating everything in sight, but he would never, ever be huge like that. Dammit.
Clint fell into step beside him, well-aware that if Pietro wanted to outpace him at any given moment, he could do it and still make him look like an ass. Part of him just couldn't wrap his brain around being as fast as he'd been told Pietro was. He'd also noticed the envious look, but politely ignored it. "So what are you wearing?"
"Weirdly, I still have no idea. Usually I am so up on this shit but... I don't know." Pietro shrugged, finishing off his bubble tea with a loud slurp. "I guess I'll just ask Wanda what she wants and we can do a thing. Last year we did Peter Pan and Captain Hook. Was pretty sweet."
The archer's face lit up, eyes sparkling. "Oh, tell me she was Captain Hook."
"Damn right she was--and the best one anyone's ever seen. There are probably pictures." Pietro didn't mind, now that he knew Clint was never gonna get it. Hey, he knew his sister was hot; so long as they didn't step over the line, he couldn't really object to anyone admiring her. He was kinda proud, truth be told.
Clint laughed, high and bright. "Okay, definitely going to have to try to find those. Fuck, she scares the shit out of me on a regular basis." He definitely did not mention how hot it was when she did. "I can't imagine what she'd do in that get-up."
"She was truly terrifying, in the best possible way," Pietro assured him with a little snort of laughter. "But it was kinda my idea, since I wanted to be Pan, so I figure it's her turn this year. Also I am kinda in 'don't give a fuck' senior mode already, so there's that." He tossed his cup into a garbage can as they passed it.
Up close, slowed down, it was clear that Clint's gaze followed everything. Or, at least everything his brain could process, briefly flicking toward the thrown cup, then back, sharp and quick and steady. Even as he quirked a grin at Pietro, his eyes managed to track the turn of a car down the street and a girl exiting a nearby shop. "I'm not sure that's senior mode so much. I mean, I only give half a damn."
Pietro would never have admitted it--not yet, anyhow--but he was impressed with Clint's obvious perceptiveness. Maybe Barton wasn't a total idiot... maybe he just had diarrhea of the mouth at idiotic times? Hmm. This bore further investigation. "Well, I think it's relative to how much of a damn you gave before. I used to give several very large damns about parties and all that. Planned most of them for the last two years, honestly. Now I'm like looking for any excuse to pawn them off."
"Sounds more like you've lost interest in people than school," Clint shrugged.
"That's not inaccurate," Pietro agreed, impressed again. "But for me, the people were always the school. Classes, all that academic shit, that's like the blink of an eye for me."
Clint lifted his eyebrows at the older teen. "So your brain goes that fast too? All the time, or just when you want it to?"
"You know how when you go to the grocery store and have to wait in line for the check-out, and there's this like ninety-five-year-old woman in front of you? And even if she's super sweet and you just helped her carry all her groceries, she pulls out her check book and you just groan internally, because you know--you know she's gonna take goddamn forever to fill that mother out? And then she does, and you're stuck standing there with your, like pack of gum and bottle of water, because that's all you wanted, but this old lady is taking like fifty years to write out her check of all old school things, and all you wanted was a stick of gum and a drink of water?
"Yeah," Pietro finished with a cocked eyebrow. "That's pretty much every interaction in my whole life. Because no, I can't turn it off."
Clint slowed down. Really slow, his steps crawling, like slo-mo on slo-mo, with such patience and steady precision as he opened his mouth, eyebrows lifting, lips forming the drawn out words, "Nooooooo shiiiiiiiiittt..."
Pietro shuddered at the added slowness, seriously contemplating just running to the shop and letting Clint catch up later because ohmigoddddddddddd. "Yes. Right now. That is literally what I'm doing just so you can keep up with me."
The younger teen continued to exaggeratedly slow everything he did, clearly enjoying driving Pietro up the wall. "Thaaaat isssss fuuuucccckkkeeed uuuuuuuup."
Trusting Clint's warped and cruel sense of humor to cue him in on it being just a joke, Pietro made himself free to say, in a deadpan that would've done Arthur proud, "Do you know what happens to things when they get punched at 800 miles per hour? Because we could find out."
"Ooh, can we?" Clint asked, amused. Still, he slipped easily back into normal speed. At least, for him.
"Keep doing that and we can try it on your face," Pietro said sweetly. Then a beat, barely there, before Pietro said, "Stop doing it and we can totally try it on something else. It looks really cool. Shit just explodes."
Clint raised a brow, looking genuinely intrigued. "Yeah? I actually wouldn't mind watching that. You ever tried recording it?"
"Yeah but you need really hi def cameras to get the good shit. I mean, honestly, as annoying as it is the way I see shit is super, super pretty. Physics is pretty awesome," Pietro admitted.
That prompted a hum. Clint thought that it was pretty awesome too, especially when it came to how his arrows flew, and he had a grasp of the basic concept, but he'd gotten a glimpse at one of the physics textbooks a couple weeks ago, and it had given him a serious case of the hives.
Pietro was still considering, though. "Bet Tony could come up with something that'd catch me. Or--one of the other weird rich kids' companies has something already."
"You should do it. Ask Tony," Clint agreed. "He needs the distraction."
Pietro snorted. "I somehow assumed that Steve would be enough distraction, even for Tony."
"You would think so!" Clint blurted. "But dude is still hiding away in that workshop of his so he can't be all that distracting, right?"
"I'll make a note to tell him to up his game." Pietro smirked as they rounded the corner to the thrift shop. "Even Steve has to sleep sometimes. I'm not convinced Tony does."
"Tony sleeps. I've seen the keyboard-hair," Clint assured him. Of course, that could just be Tony's normal hair, so Clint decided not to give it too much thought. He paused in front of the thrift shop, eying it warily. "So you think this place will have costume stuff?"
Pietro snorted in amusement at the keyboard-hair comment, pulling open the door and stepping through, but making sure to hold it so Clint could grab it after. "No. But they'll have affordable stuff we can repurpose. Leather, faux-fur, all that stuff."
Clint ducked in behind him, letting his gaze dart around. Even this place was nicer than most of the places he'd grown up getting clothes from, but he'd been in there once or twice before since arriving at Xavier's. Most of what he had came from the military surplus store, or Goodwill, or the bait shop on fifth, but he had at least one shirt he'd picked up from the thrift shop.
Course, that had been before all these costume parties. "There aren't that many more of these things, right? Where everyone dresses up?"
Pietro shrugged, already digging through one of the racks. "Halloween and the Masquerade are the staples, but sometimes someone gets a bright idea for a theme party. One year we did Valentine's--which was not my idea, by the way, but it came off pretty well."
"Shit," Clint cursed as he headed for another set of racks. "Then I'd better get with the program or next time I'm screwed."
