Darcy was already in the lobby when Clint stepped off the elevator, her phone in hand and fingers moving quickly over the keys. A dark leather coat was wrapped around her upper body, hiding whatever shirt she was wearing from view. Her jeans were tight, highlighting her long legs which were only accented more by her boots. It almost made Clint forget to get off the elevator. He'd known she looked good, but seeing her in something other than sweats or worn jeans and a baggy sweater drove the knowledge home.

She glanced up at the sound of the doors closing, offering him a smile as she dropped her phone back into her pocket and tucking her hands into her coat. "Hey Clint, ready to go?"

"You know it," confirmed Clint, forcing his attention back onto his surroundings and walking towards her. Smiling, he pushed open the door and held it open for Darcy to step through first. She shot him a raised eyebrow but didn't fight it, passing him with a murmured 'thanks'. Cool air struck his face as he stepped out onto the pavement, helping to sooth the strain that he'd been feeling inside. "Subway or cab?"

"Subway works," replied Darcy, nodding down the street. "There's a station just down the block."

Clint shrugged. "Sounds good. There's a station less than a block from the bar."

Darcy nodded, starting down the block towards where she'd gestured. "Perfect."

They fell into silence after that, walking side by side with nearly a foot of space between them. The air outside had turned crisp with the impending fall, making the walk cool but pleasant with a light coat. Wind would pick up every once in a while to tease at Darcy's hair, sending the wild curls flying. It made Clint want to push the errant strands behind her ear.

"Clint?"

Darcy's voice drew him from his thoughts. He hid his surprise behind a smile. "Yeah?"

"You alright?" asked Darcy quietly. There's a touch of worry in her tone too, but it's not the over-whelming kind he'd gotten used to hearing. Not the type that came from people who thought he could break at any moment.

"Just thinking, that's all," dismissed Clint easily, trying not to think about how easily she's working with him. Talking with him. Like he never killed a bunch of people at the whim of a mad-man. "Nothing to worry about."

"Really?" countered Darcy with a raised eyebrow. "Because I'm pretty sure when you start thinking, the rest of us need to take cover." There's a touch of a smile in her tone, slightly forced. She's trying to tease him but there's too much going on in her own head to really put her heart into it. Well, that's something he's got to fix. She's helping him, he can do the same in return.

"Hey, I'm not that bad," objected Clint with a touch of a pout, forcing himself to relax a little. Darcy wasn't nervous around him; she never had been. But he knew how anxiety could rub off on others, and so he'd try to relax for her sake. Act like you want others to act around you; maybe it'll actually work if he believes it enough.

Darcy smirked a little, starting down the stairs into the subway. "As long as your thoughts don't involve your trick arrows."

This time, Clint really did pout. "Hey, you've gotta respect the arrows! They've gotten me out of a lot or jams."

"I don't doubt it," agreed Darcy, her own teasing smile on her lips. The line of her shoulders is relaxing a little, much to Clint's relief. "But even you've got to admit they're a little silly sometimes. I mean, boomerangs?"

"I swear those are useful," argued Clint, falling into the conversation. It was nice to relax with someone again, just teasing each other and not really discussing anything serious. Hanging out with someone who wasn't afraid of him. It felt normal. "When you've got guys behind you but don't have time to turn and aim, they're useful."

Darcy shook her head, flashing her subway pass by the sensors and stepping through the turn-stye when it clicked. "And how do you actually expect to hit people who are behind you?"

Clint shrugged, swiping his own pass in the process. "I'm just that good?"

"Sure you are," drawled Darcy with a roll of her eyes. The smirk was still there though, indicating that she was probably teasing him. Probably. Who knew what stories Phil had told her.

"You know it," assured Clint. They arrived at the platform just before their train. Wind whistled heavily through the space, making him wince slightly. She held out a pair of ear plugs to him, slipping a second pair into her own ears. He took the small cones gratefully, slipping them into his own ears. It dulled the high pitched sounds significantly, making it easier to hear everything else.

They stood in silence until the train rolled in, boarding as soon as the doors were open. The car was wasn't completely full but it wasn't empty either. Still, they were left with standing room only. Without any prompting, Darcy headed immediately for the back of the car and squeezed into the corner with her back pressed to plastic. It was surprising to Clint, who preferred to have his back to a wall than exposed in places like this. He didn't argue though, just leaned against the wall next to her.

She popped out her ear plugs as soon as the door shut, rubbing the skin covering her ear canals. "I can't decide if the ear plugs or the sound of wind moving through the tunnels is worse."

"I'd side with sound," remarked Clint, removing his own ear plugs. "Always makes my ears ring."

"Mine too," agreed Darcy. "The plugs just feel weird."

"Why do you carry ear plugs with you anyway?" asked Clint, offering the pair he was carrying back to her.

She just waved them away. "Keep them, I'm just going to toss them anyway. And the noise in the subway always bothers me. It's just easier to carry a set of ear plugs and not need them than to suffer needlessly."

"Doesn't it make you nervous not being able to hear everything though?" asked Clint curiously. He'd already established something about Darcy was off. He wasn't doubting that. What he wondered was what made her different. Well, besides her screwed up early life.

"Not really," replied Darcy with a shrug. "I know what's going on around me and that's all that matters."

"You can't say that when you've got ear plugs in though," argued Clint. "It takes away from your ability to monitor your environment."

"I don't worry about it," admitted Darcy, eyes glancing around the car. "There's other ways to monitor your environment."

"Like?" pressed Clint curiously, one eyebrow rising.

Darcy just shrugged, offering him a mysterious smile. "Sorry, a girl has to keep some secrets."

"And I've learned a bit too much about you already tonight," reasoned Clint, smiling back a little.

For a moment, he just looked at Darcy as she stared around the car, eyes darting between passengers constantly. In just this one night, he'd learned a lot about her; more than he'd probably ever known about anyone save Natasha. But everything he'd learned was bad, consisting of memories and feelings he knew the woman in front of him didn't want to recall. It was time to learn something good. Turn both their thoughts to something a little better, even if it was just for a while. Then again, he seemed to suck at that so maybe this whole thing would blow up in his face. Only one way to know for sure. "So, why did you take the internship with Jane if you're a political science major?"

"Science credits," replied Darcy simply. "Also, her research was interesting. Or, at least I thought it would be. Plus, it was better than taking a basic physic's class. I've never been good with theory if I can't see it in practice."

Clint nodded slowly. "Gotcha. Was it as interesting as you thought it would be? Well, until Thor showed up that is."

"More or less," agreed Darcy. "Jane's physics jargon went over my head more than once, but I feel like I've actually learned something."

"Always good," muttered Clint. He paused again, waiting to see if she said more. When she offered no more details, he switched topics. Kind of. "So, Pepper says you're interning over at Stark Industries."

"Yeah," confirmed Darcy. "She wants me to work in the PR department."

"Sounds like a good job," stated Clint. "Are you going to take it?"

She shrugged slightly. "I haven't decided yet."

Well, that wasn't expected. "Most people would jump at a chance to work with Stark Industries, especially in PR. They get paid the most to fix Tony's social faux pas'."

"Yeah," agreed Darcy quietly, "but I've got another offer on the table to consider too."

Both of Clint's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Okay, when he thought about it, it wasn't so surprising. Pepper was going to be seriously peeved if her intern got poached, though. "Another offer?"

She nodded slightly, eyes making one more pass around the car before she refocused her gaze on Clint. "Mhm. It's not as good as Pepper's, but..."

"It's more worth-while?" guessed Clint. "Or you'd be helping someone you care about out if you took the second offer?"

"A little of both," admitted Darcy. "It's not that I don't enjoy working for Pepper, but I still want to get involved with international law and the other job...it's still not in-line with my goals but it's closer and I'd be helping out someone who's helped me before."

Clint shrugged a little, reaching out to brace himself on the bar over their heads as the train turned. Darcy just pressed herself harder into the corner of the train car, leaning away as the force made him lean closer to her. She tried to be subtle about it, but he noticed. It was his job to notice things like that. "You don't like to touch people, do you?"

Her eyes fell away from him, focusing out the window over his shoulders. He could tell from the angle of her pupils. "You've been through the same thing, I'd think it would be the same for you."

"I went through it a long time ago," reasoned Clint. "And yeah, for a while I didn't like to be touched, but I got over it once I realized that everyone who moved to touch me wasn't going to hurt me."

"I've never enjoyed being touched by anyone." Her body tightened, muscles tensing sharply. Suddenly. Okay, apparently that was the wrong thing to say. "It's just who I am."

Clint nodded, backing off immediately. Making her defensive was the last thing he was trying to do. They both needed to relax tonight. "Sorry, it was an observation, not an attack."

Her eyes met his again, an apology written across her face. "No, I should apologize. Normally I'm not that defensive, it's just been a long day."

"Understandable," assured Clint.

For a moment, they stood in silence as the doors opened to allow passengers to get on or off. Clint wracked his brain for anything they could talk about that was considered 'normal' conversation. Being isolated on a military base then kidnapped then running into battle with a bunch of superheros to save the world didn't exactly leave a lot of time for socializing. Well, not with anyone normal anyway. Tasha was pretty morbid most of the time, which didn't surprise him at all given the life she'd had prior to S.H.I.E.L.D., and he couldn't say anyone else really trusted him enough to have a normal conversation.

"So, Phil told me you came out of the circus," started Darcy, startling Clint. He'd assumed any further conversation would have to be started by him. "That must have been different."

"Different is one way of putting it," sighed Clint, rubbing the back of his head. "It was hard work, but better than the alternatives."

Darcy nodded, eyes shifting back out to stare at the tunnel walls. "Foster care isn't really anyone's ideal alternative. Some kids are fine in it, but..."

"People like us usually aren't," finished Clint. "You were lucky Phil adopted you."

She shrugged a little. "I'm lucky they didn't throw me in prison."

Clint's eyes began scanning the train car, identifying the new passengers and categorizing them as 'threatening' or 'probably harmless'. "You were a kid and brain washed. I'm not sure anyone would cite what you did as wrong or criminal by your own choosing."

"Probably not," agreed Darcy quietly. "Doesn't mean there wasn't a good chance that I would have still been blamed though." Clearing her throat a little, Clint watched her refocus her gaze on him. "Where was this circus anyway?"

"Iowa," replied Clint, trying to force himself to relax again. It was normal to discuss where you were from with people you didn't know well. At least, he recalled someone telling him that once. Well, he hoped he recalled it and the conversation wasn't all a hallucination. "How about you? Where did you come from?"

"Just outside Omaha," replied Darcy. "Place called Bellevue."

Both of Clint's eyebrows rose. "Nebraska?"

"Yeah, know it?" asked Darcy curiously.

"We passed through the area a few times," explained Clint. "We stopped in some of the surrounding cities."

Darcy nodded slowly, apparently trying to think back. "Most of my memory from back then is pretty blurry, but I remember one night Andrew was in a really bad mood. Really bad. Throwing chairs bad. I snuck out of the house because I knew sticking around would be too dangerous and started to wonder the streets. There was all this noise from the river earlier that day, so I started in that direction and ended up at the edge of this clearing where all these people were working. I don't know if it was a carnival or a circus or what, but there were just people and animals everywhere. I'd never seen anything like it. I thought about going closer, but couldn't bring myself to. Too many people I didn't know, too much risk. I couldn't risk the cops taking me home until Andrew'd passed out, so I just sat there watching these people set up their traveling attraction. Spent hours up there, watching everything."

"Did you see any kids running around?" asked Clint curiously. He knew there were kids in some circus', obviously. If it wasn't because their parents were in an act, it was because they'd escaped something bad like he and Barney had.

"Several," confirmed Darcy quietly. "Most of them were older though, so I didn't want to risk getting close. Older kids, especially boys, weren't always nice to me."

"I remember that," admitted Clint. "I had to pull more than a few kids off each other."

Darcy nodded quietly, eyes a bit distant. "I saw the name of the circus, but I can't remember it now. There were two older boys though, I remember seeing them at the edge of the group. One of them was setting up several bails of hay and pinning a target to it, an improvised shooting range."

"Did he have a bow?" asked Clint. There had been several circus' with archery acts; if she could describe the boy or the bow, he might be able to tell her which circus it was.

"He had a case like the one you carry," replied Darcy. "And there was a bow, but I was too far away to make out any details. My night vision was good, but I was too far away to see much of anything. I just remember it was curved funny, not straight, and it looked like their might have been a design to the whole thing. It caught my eye because the few bows I'd seen didn't look like that; they were all either fiberglass compact bows or the cheap wooden reproductions. This one looked nice."

Clint smiled a little, shaking his head. "There were several bows like that in a few different circus'. Who knows, maybe it was me you saw."

A touch of a smile pulled at Darcy's lips. "That's a nice thought, actually. The closest I came to sneaking down there was when he put the bow down to go help another boy a little older than him with something. I wanted to see the bow, because it looked so pretty."

Nodding, Clint wondered if it hadn't been him she'd seen. There weren't that many circus' in the area. Especially ones that had archery acts. It would definitely be some strange twist of fate if that were the case. And maybe just a touch creepy. "Did anyone ever teach you how to shoot?"

One of Darcy's eyebrows rose in surprise. "A gun?"

"A bow," replied Clint with a shrug. "I'm assuming Phil taught you to use a gun."

"Not long after I moved in with him," confirmed Darcy. "Er, he taught me to use a gun, I mean. No one's ever taught me to use a bow."

Clint nodded slowly, an idea forming in his mind. "Want me to teach you? Sounds like you were pretty interested in bows, at least back then."

"Just that one," corrected Darcy, a smile tugging at her lips. "And sure, that could be fun. At least, it looked fun."

"Did you go to the circus once it was open?" asked Clint.

"No," replied Darcy with a sigh. "My parents never would have gone with me and I didn't think they'd let me in alone. Besides, the police were pretty big on making sure kids didn't run around by themselves in some effort to reduce child kidnappings or something like that. It meant I had to hide in unpopulated places when I couldn't go home."

"I doubt they would have gotten upset about a kid at the circus alone," objected Clint. "It's a place for people to play. Well, if you aren't staff."

"The police came to our school and told us we couldn't go to the circus alone," explained Darcy. "I think I was eight, maybe nine. They didn't even like us wondering around town alone unless we were going to and from school. Even then, I almost got picked up more than once and had to come up with an excuse. The one time the police brought me home because they caught me walking alone from school, things were really bad once they'd left."

Clint winced, nodding. He remembered his own father getting mad whenever anyone came by the house that wasn't family. Especially if it was because either he or Barney had screwed up. "I remember my dad was like that too." Running a hand through his hair, he offered Darcy a smile. "I know it doesn't change anything, but if it was my circus and you had come by, I would have made sure to get you out."

A smile tugged at the corner of Darcy's lips again, faint but there. "It doesn't change anything, but it's nice to hear anyway."

Silence descended between them as the train made another stop, a large group of people getting on. It looked like a party crowd likely heading downtown. Everyone in the group was dressed to hit a party of some kind. Several of the girls gave him an appraising look as they passed, a few of the guys shooting interested looks at Darcy as well. She just cocked an eyebrow at them though, sending the guys scattering. He ignored the girls. They were all too young for him.

As the train began to move again, Clint picked up the conversation once more. "What's college like?"

"College?" repeated Darcy, raising an eyebrow at him. "It's school, just with more freedom. You get to actually study what you want rather than just what you have to. Why? Thinking about going back?"

"Nah," dismissed Clint. "Wouldn't do me much good. I have a good job, a specialized skill set, and a purpose. I don't need to go back. I just never went and wondered what it was like."

Darcy shrugged a little. "It's school. You sign up for classes, teachers give you homework, projects, etc. It's a more diverse community, which is nice, and you get some practical experience in your field, but otherwise...it's school." She paused for a moment, considering something. "What was it like being in the circus?"

"Hard," admitted Clint. "It could be fun too, though. Just depended on the day. There were times we would be setting up in winter that were brutal and times in summer that were hard but fun. At night everyone would gather around the central fire and talk. Chatter. It was like having a very large and strange family."

"It sounds kind of nice," stated Darcy with a soft smile. "Having all those people around to help watch your back."

Clint shrugged again. "I can't say everyone was that friendly, but some of us were close." He paused then, wanting so badly to ask the one question he'd been dying to know the answer to since he'd met Darcy.

"Just ask, Clint," spoke up Darcy suddenly, startling him. Looking at her eyes, he could see the mild exasperation she was apparently feeling towards him. "I have no secrets, remember? Also, you think very loud for what you do."

"Do not," muttered Clint. "'Tasha swears I never think."

"Then Natasha doesn't spend much time with you," countered Darcy. "Now ask. If I don't want to answer, I won't answer."

"Fine," sighed Clint. "What was living with Phil like?"

A sad smile tugged at Darcy's lips, belaying the mix of emotions that came with the question. "Interesting, honestly. He was very protective of me, which meant I didn't do things like go to work with him. Honestly, I should have probably had a babysitter but, after everything, I was used to taking care of myself. He didn't worry too much when he left me home alone, especially given we were living in a S.H.I.E.L.D. sanctioned apartment until I turned fifteen. At that point, he opted to move us off base, probably at least in part for his sanity. Having a 15-year-old daughter around a bunch of military men didn't seem like a good idea to him."

"I can't imagine why," muttered Clint. "I would have moved, too."

"Regardless, living with Phil was nice," admitted Darcy. "He was always there when I needed him. If I woke up in the middle of the night, he'd throw on a movie and watch it with me. On days when I was tense, he would meditate with me or divert the energy into martial arts. He helped me with my homework, came to any and all parent-teacher conferences, showed up for open house and back to school night. Everything. It didn't matter how menial it was, if I was involved than so was Phil. Well, except for dating. He pretended I wasn't even interested in dating until I was seventeen and my prom date picked me up."

Clint grinned, trying to image how his former boss would have reacted to finding a pimply-faced kid on his doorstep, ready to take his adoptive daughter to a dance. "Were there guns involved in that last exchange?"

"Probably," laughed Darcy. "Guns or knives. Or just his 'I can kill you ten different ways with a paper-clip' look. Any of the above and possibly a mix of all three were likely involved. My date did look pretty pale when I came down."

"Sounds like he was a pretty awesome dad," commented Clint, offering her his arm as the train pulled up to their stop.

"He was," confirmed Darcy sadly, tucking her hands back into her pockets. "No matter what I wanted to do, he supported me. He taught me about loyalty and showed me what parents should actually be. It wasn't like anyone ever guessed I was adopted anyway. I even looked like him."

"A little," agreed Clint, dropping his arm back to his side. Apparently, despite their sparring match, she still wasn't comfortable with touching him. Or maybe it was just the sheer number of people around them. That could be it too, what with the threat of physical contact and all. "Actually, more than I thought when I look at you. Wasn't he from the same town as you, too?"

"Yeah," murmured Darcy, heading for the open train doors. Clint followed quickly behind. Almost no one got off at the stop except them. The few other passengers who did exit, Clint watched carefully. He didn't think anyone on the train had been a threat to them, but one never knew for sure.

Still scanning the platform, he followed Darcy as she headed for the stairs up. "So, I mean, I'm sure you looked into this, but couldn't you be related to him?"

Darcy paused mid-way up the stairs, eyes wide like the thought never occurred to her. Which, hell, maybe it hadn't. "I don't think so...I'm sure Fury and Phil tested my DNA against his or something when they brought me in and they would have said something if I was related to Phil." Shaking her head, she started moving quickly again. "Besides, I don't see Phil sleeping with Meredith. My mom wasn't exactly his type, if the women he dated while I was living with him were any indication."

"They might not have, too," pointed out Clint, holding up one hand to Darcy in a gesture for silence. For a moment all he did was focus on the noise from above, listening carefully for any suspicious sounds. When he confirmed that all he could hear was street noise, he relaxed a little more again and continued with his previous train of thought. "How were you adopted?"

One of Darcy's eyebrows rose in confusion. "I don't really know, honestly. Phil just came to me one day and asked if I would be willing to stay with him or if I wanted to live with a different family. I didn't want to leave, so he said I didn't have to. It never came up again." Shrugging, she added: "Ask Fury if you want to know more."

"Is that permission?" asked Clint half-seriously. He really was curious about this one- even with her parents dead, she should have gone to another family member before a stranger.

"Knock yourself out," dismissed Darcy with another shrug. "He'll tell you if it's not classified. I'm not really sure how they managed to make me disappear."

Clint nodded as the pub came into view, lightly resting his hand on Darcy's shoulder. She didn't flinch this time; if anything the presence helped her to relax. "Here's the pub."

Darcy nodded, pulling open the heavy wooden door on the front of the establishment. The sounds of loud talking and plastic connecting with wood echoed out of the space in front of them. Several TV's were mounted on the walls around the room, displaying different international soccer games with subtitles and muted sounds. Groups of people hovered in different places inside, talking and laughing. The whole place had a very warm feel to it, almost homey. But even with all of that, it was quiet enough that people could still talk at a reasonable decibel level.

"So what do you want to drink?" asked Darcy, walking inside and tugging off her coat.

Clint wanted to answer, he really did, but he was having some trouble getting his jaw to work. Or his brain for that matter. The shirt she was in wasn't indecent per say, it was actually kind of funny and explained why she'd been wearing her jacket inside the lobby of the building. What was making it hard for him to speak was a combination of the design on the shirt and the, well, tightness of the fit.

He was guessing it was pilfered from Phil, probably years and years ago if he had to take a guess. Captain America's shield was proudly displayed in the middle of the tee-shirt, stretched nearly indecently across Darcy's well-sized chest. The fabric rode up some around her stomach, giving him a view of the skin between the top of her tight jeans and her shirt.

Stop being a pervert, Barton! The girl is standing there in what's got to be one of her father's old shirts. One of your former friends shirts. Get over it.

Shaking his head, he managed to grab the door before it closed and step in after her with some dignity. "Um, Guinness. Dark Guinness." Pausing, he considered his choice. "Actually, scratch that. Whiskey neat."

"So, two whiskey's. Got it," confirmed Darcy as she sauntered towards the bar.

Clint pulled his own jacket off, glaring at a few guys near the door who were checking Darcy out. A few of them tried to glare back, but most of them quickly returned to their drinks and conversation like smart people. There were no free tables, so he headed for the bar and quickly dropped his jacket on a stool beside where Darcy was standing. "No tables."

"Not a surprise," remarked Darcy with a shrug. "At least the place isn't packed to the brim."

"At least," agreed Clint, nodding to Old Murry where he stood behind the bar.

The bar keeper was, as his name implied, relatively old looking but easily one of the best bar tenders in New York. He could pour a perfect pint of Guinness every time with his eyes closed and knew his liquor well enough to stock the place with only good labels- and that didn't necessarily mean expensive.

Murry's gray-bearded face appeared in front of Clint a moment later, looking between the archer and Darcy wearily. "Bloody hell Barton, though you had more sense than ta date a girl nearly half yer age."

"Hey!" objected Clint, grinning. "She's only ten years younger than me."

"Aye, and she's wearin' another man's shirt too," growled Murry. "Please tell me she's yer boss' kid and not his gal. 'Cause I will not put up with you stealin' another fella's gal. Not in my bar."

"Relax Murry," assured Clint. "I'm not trying to steal her from anyone. Though," he paused and pretended to give Darcy an assessing look. She returned it with her own smirk. "Okay, maybe I would. But I swear, I don't have to sleep with every girl I meet."

"Jus' most of 'em," scolded Murry. "I've heard of yer tendencies, Barton. Tha' Russian gal o' yers has stories."

"That's because 'Tasha practically stalks me when she's bored," growled Clint.

Murry chuckled, shaking his head. "Cannot say I'm surprised by that. She's a scary woman, yer partner."

"You're telling me," muttered Clint. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice back to a proper speaking level and looked at Darcy. "So, Darce, this is Old Murry."

Darcy smiled and nodded at Murry, carefully keeping her hands tucked away. "Yeah, I remember him from the time Phil brought me here. He pretty much threw this creepy guy who'd been staring at me all night out of the bar."

"Aye, I recall you," stated Murry, rubbing his gray whiskers. "You were th' young lass tha' came in with Coulson."

"He's my dad," confirmed Darcy. "Er, was. He was my dad."

"So I heard," sighed Murry. "My condolences to you, Miss Darcy."

"Thanks," thanked Darcy, forcing a smile. "And it's nice to meet you."

"As 'tis to meet you," agreed Murry. "So what can Old Murry get fer you?"

"Two whiskeys, neat," ordered Clint with a grin. "Thank's Murry."

"'s what I'm here ta do," reminded Murry with a shake of his head. He turned back to Darcy and offered her a smile. "Keep lookin', Lass. This one's taken a few too many hits ta the head."

Clint actually felt a touch insulted. Well, not really, but it was fun to play it that way. "Hey, I resemble that comment! I mean resent. Resent! And the number of times I've hit my head is still only in the double digits!"

"Yeah, the high double digits," countered Darcy, grin curling across her lips. "Once you've hit the 90's, you might as well give up hope of dodging the triple digits."

"But I get a cake when I hit 100," argued Clint. "Who doesn't like cake?"

Darcy blinked at him, almost looking worried. "Dude, if all you want is a cake, I'll make you one."

"Nah, I'd rather earn it," insisted Clint, his own grin settling in. "Tastes better."

"Yeah, because you've damaged your brain so many times it can't process taste anymore," countered Darcy. "Dirt would probably taste good."

Murry laughed, catching Clint's attention again. Glancing at the bar keeper, he can see the way the older man is eying them with a smile. "Perhaps I spoke too soon. You might be able ta actually keep this oaf in line. Jus' make sure he doesn't cause you grief."

"Don't worry, I have a taser and I'm not afraid to use it," assured Darcy with a grin.

Murry laughed again, setting their drinks in front of them. "Well, enjoy yer drinks an' let me know if you need anythin'." Turning to Clint, he added: "Keep an eye on the Lass. There's plenty o' men in this bar tha' would love a chance at 'er."

"You got it, Murry," assured Clint with a grin. "I'm not letting anything happen to her."

Darcy snorted slightly as Murry walked away, offering Clint a smirk. "I'm pretty sure it'll be me keeping you out of trouble."

"That's usually what 'Tasha has to do," admitted Clint, taking a sip of his whiskey. "She's pulled me out of more than one fight."

"Never mind then," muttered Darcy. "We might be in trouble. Do you have someone to call if we get arrested?"

Clint shrugged, offering her a smirk and raising his whiskey glass. "I figure Tony's good for bail money."

"Sweet," replied Darcy, clicking her own glass against his. "So it's agreed: if we get arrested, we call Tony."

Sipping his whiskey, Clint carefully set the glass down. "What do you think we'd be most likely to get arrested for?"

"Drunken brawling," answered Darcy instantly. "Though I've got to say, you seem more like an 'indecent exposure' kind of guy."

"Eh, that's only a small percentage of my arrest record," dismissed Clint. "Twenty percent, tops."

Darcy snorted slightly, choking a bit on her whiskey. "So what's the other eighty percent?"

"A combination of assault, drunken disorderly, minor violations for possession, and one for having a deadly weapon in public," recounted Clint with a shrug. "All charges related to the last two were dismissed though."

One of Darcy's eyebrows rose. "I'm a little afraid to ask, but possession of what?"

"Explosives," replied Clint. "Apparently, I failed to apply for the proper permits to own and carry low-grade military explosives."

"For your arrows, right?" asked Darcy, taking another sip of her drink.

Clint nodded, doing the same. "Yep. I make the tips myself, so I need the raw explosives and it's usually easier to do that at home in my down time."

Darcy chuckled a little, shaking her head. "So let me get this straight: you spend your down time building explosive arrow tips? You know that makes you sound like some kind of mad bomber, right?"

"Hey, I don't just build exploding ones," objected Clint. "There's other ones too. Like my boomerang arrows!"

"I still can't believe those work," muttered Darcy with a shake of her head. "You're insane, you know that right?"

"'Tasha blames head trauma," replied Clint with a shrug. "I personally don't think there's anything wrong with me."

"Right," stated Darcy with a shake of her head. "Keep telling yourself that, Clint."

"Gladly," stated Clint with a smirk. "So what about you? What do you do in your down time?"

Darcy shrugged a little. "Depends on when the downtime is. If we're talking nights I can't sleep, the gym and video games. Also, the internet. Cat memes make everything better."

"I'll take your word for that," muttered Clint.

"Seriously, try it next time you have a mission go sour," insisted Darcy. "It's great. Something about cats doing weird things is just fun."

Clint smirked a little, downing the rest of his whiskey. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a crazy cat lady."

"Dude, I don't want to own a cat," objected Darcy immediately. "Not unless I could have my friend's cat, Bruce. He's a little shit, but he's a friendly little shit." Following his lead, she downed the rest of her whiskey as well. "The last thing I need is a feline ninja trying to kill me every time I come home."

"You find them entertaining," pointed out Clint. "So why not?"

"I repeat: little feline ninja trying to kill me every time I come home." Darcy just shook her head. "No thank you. Besides, I also find Tony entertaining and yet I have no interest in bringing him home."

"That's probably just safer for everyone though," insisted Clint. "I'm pretty sure Tony shouldn't be allowed to mix with the general population. It might lead to death."

One of Darcy's eyebrows rose in a way that reminded Clint of Phil. Especially in the way she managed to convey exactly what she was saying in that one motion. "Might?"

"Might," confirmed Clint. "It would definitely lead to explosions and a possible loss of sanity for anyone who came into contact with him. There only might be death involved in that."

"I can accept those parameters," agreed Darcy after a moment. "You know, if he weren't considered such a genius, Tony would probably be on medication at minimum."

"Or have ended up locked in a sanitarium," added Clint. "I could see a sanitarium. By the way, you've been hanging with the scientists too much; you just used the word 'parameters' in a sentence."

"It's a multipoint word. And Tony in a nut-house is a funny image," snorted Darcy slightly. "I could just see him having a quantum physics debate with some guy who's so drugged up all he can do is drool."

"He would too," agreed Clint. "He'd just have the conversation with himself, pretty much like he does now. Want another whiskey?"

"Sure," stated Darcy with a shrug. "Sounds like fun."

Clint motioned for Old Murry to bring two more whiskeys, then turned back to Darcy. "So, what kind of music do you like?"