[ indie || marvel || selective ]
name: clint barton.
alias: hawkeye.
specialties: not many
[ exists in mcu ]
[ read notes for expansion ]
[ tracks #agentbartxn ]
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Knock knock.
Anyone home?
{ His mom said he wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers. }
Hey, do you like bananas?
{ Last time he checked, he didn’t really care what his mom said. }
} His face is still cut up and there’s a significantly large bruise on his upper ribs- they’re not broken, thankfully - but now that SHIELD was a dead horse, Clint mostly kept to his apartment in Brooklyn, busying himself with the mob that owned his building. Apparently. He was just starting to like it there too. Which sucked. He should know better than to get comfortable, carnies never have a single place to stay for long. Not only was his place of work kaput, but the only relief he had of it? Too comfortable, Clint. You know better. He missed his SHIELD-funded trick arrows.
Clint sat on the ledge, with his weapon of choice in his lap for no other reason than it felt like it belonged there, his feet dangling off the edge. The fire escape sat below him, so it’s not like he was gonna fall. He’s a damn acrobat, he could handle sitting on a eleven story high building. Probably. It smelled like asphalt and hot garbage, but it was home. Kinda.
Anyone up for Chinese food?
I could go for some Chinese food.
} His face is still cut up and there’s a significantly large bruise on his upper ribs- they’re not broken, thankfully - but now that SHIELD was a dead horse, Clint mostly kept to his apartment in Brooklyn, busying himself with the mob that owned his building. Apparently. He was just starting to like it there too. Which sucked. He should know better than to get comfortable, carnies never have a single place to stay for long. Not only was his place of work kaput, but the only relief he had of it? Too comfortable, Clint. You know better. He missed his SHIELD-funded trick arrows.
Clint sat on the ledge, with his weapon of choice in his lap for no other reason than it felt like it belonged there, his feet dangling off the edge. The fire escape sat below him, so it’s not like he was gonna fall. He’s a damn acrobat, he could handle sitting on a eleven story high building. Probably. It smelled like asphalt and hot garbage, but it was home. Kinda.
Um. Wasn’t me?
If you touch my coffee again, I will not hesitate to put an arrow in your eye socket.