12930/Busted Hawkster

Busted Hawkster
Date of Scene:	31 March 2021
Location:	Medical, Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Captain America, Shannon and Skye drop by to see Hawkeye in medbay, but all he cares about is cookies.
Cast of Characters:	Hawkeye (Barton), Captain America, Nightingale, Quake

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Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Bright, clean, asepticized room filled with the gentle hum of medical equipment. Clint Barton slowly opens his drowsy eyes. Glances around. Yup. Avengers' medbay. Dang. He's been in that kind of predicament a few times before, and has his own routine in such cases. Check the eyes: done; check the arms: left fine, right... ouch! forearm bandaged. Legs: left leg feels like it's immobilized and it hurts likes a biatch at the thigh; right one, fine.

"Ok, only /half/ busted. Now to get out of here." Clint talks to himself, his eyes trying to locate his bow and quiver, which always comes next to the body parts accessment. And then, he wonders how he got in here in the first place.

Last he can remember, he was resting - his way of saying, fainting - on the rooftop of his appartment house, with Shannon by his side. Despite the tourniquet that she applied to his thigh, Clint was convinced that there was indeed more blood /outside/ his body than what was left inside. And it might have been the case. Without Shannon's efficient intervention, he was a goner for sure.

Decided to get out of here, Clint turns his eyes to the door leading to the basement. Ah! He could make it. Sitting up on his medical bed is accomplished without much pain. But standing on his feet might prove more difficult. And what? A /hospital gown/? With... dancing goats printed on it?

Captain America has posed:
"Easy there, soldier," Cap's voice comes in from the doorway. The Star-Spangled Avenger is in full costume, his shield strapped to his back as he makes his way properly into the medbay.

"Bedrest is the least that the doctor ordered, but I can enforce that part at least. The young lady thankfully did the right thing in alerting us to your dilemma as well as taking care of you on site. The least you can do for the effort she put in is allow yourself to heal properly instead of re-injuring yourself out of stubborn pride. So just sit back on your keister and let everything knit itself back together the way it out to be. I'm sure we'll manage without you for a little bit, but if the world starts to end, I'll give you a pass to skip out on the rest of your recovery to help out. Promise."

Nightingale has posed:
     To say that the other day had been 'eventful' would be a study in understatement. But that is exactly what that late afternoon on the tenement rooftop had proven to be. In the days following, though, Shannon had begun to put it out of her mind, though in the midst of studies, training, and outside musical pursuits, she would think back to that afternoon, and wonder just how Hawkeye was faring. His pride might have been injured by the necessity of calling Captain Rogers, but at least he'd be alive, and that was the main point, after all.

     What she never expected was a call back.

     Oh, sure, she had made a point of keeping in touch, with the occasional message here and there, just to say 'hello', but she wasn't inclined to make a bother of herself. So to be called back, with the request that she come visit the Avengers mansion was highly unusual. It completely floored her. When she heard the reason why, it necessitated a quick turn in the kitchen to make a little something to bring with her.

     Because let's face it--no matter where or when, hospital food -sucks-.

     She's not too far behind Cap, in a pair of flannel-lined jeans well-suited for flight, a wine-red turtleneck, her favorite caramel suede boots, and her little brown bag tied to her belt. She's also got a covered container in hand, that looks to have something potentially edible inside.

     With her wings tucked in neatly behind her, she peeks around the edge of the doorway, smiling. "Hey," she calls out. "How are you feeling?"

Quake has posed:
The call came in to meet Clint in the Avenger's infirmary. Which told her he must have been really hurt knowing his distaste of anything with medicine. "Damn." She wrote a note that she'll be there.

Skye was quickly after that..

Quickly she was passed through, and made her way to the infirmary. Peeking into the room, noting Cap and the new girl, her eyes fell on Clint, and she gave a lopsided grin. "Trying to outdo me, huh Hotshot?" But she was worried

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
At the sound of Steve's voice, Clint instinctively straightens up, his left hand covering his eyes in what might be dejection, his escape plan going down the proverbial drain. There's a faint "Ah fu..." escaping his lips.

"Come on, Methuselah" he finally protests, "I didn't enlist in the Guinea Pigs Corps." Yep, that's how he feels, like a guinea pig.

Talking of army, here's the cavalry: Shannon! She really saved the day out there, and she's greeted with a large - albeit a bit drowsy - smile which even widens, if possible, at the view of the small container. Treats? "Ah Miss Lance," he says, "Feel fantastic! Nice to you see. But, hrm, no thanks for callin' Mister America!" Really, he kinda likes, even /respects/ Captain a lot, the problem is that he /hates/ hospitals and anything that forces him down to rest.

The smile given to Shannon turns a little bit different - can a smile look sweeter - as Skye steps in. "Hey Keyboard, naw... I'm fine, they all insist I remain here. See, Cap just offered to sleep here to keep an eye on me, said something about /enforcin'/." He then pauses, and looks back at Cap and Shannon, "You know each other? Skye Johnson, Miss Lance and Methuselah. Anyone has a deck of cards?" Right, Hawkeye might be under some sort of medication and his thoughts are not all clear.

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers allows the corner of his mouth to quirk in a smile, "It's Captain America. Mr. America is a bodybuilder, I believe. Or maybe a professional wrestler. Or maybe one of the knock-off toys of me you can buy at your better thrift stores. Some of them come with swords, they're pretty nice," he says.

To Shannon, he smiles, "Thanks again for your help looking after Hawkeye. He should do a better job of looking out for himself, of course, but nobody's perfect. And what is that you have there, it smells delightful?"

To Skye he nods, "The agent and I have crossed paths before, although I don't think we've had much chance to say much more than hello. Frankly, I'm surprised she's taken such an interest in you, Clint, I thought she had a more level head on her shoulders," he says with a sparkle in his eye.

Nightingale has posed:
     "You could say that," Shannon replies to Clint, chuckling softly. "I think there's still a dent in the sidewalk outside the music shop in Salem Center where my jaw dropped after I nearly mowed poor Captain Rogers down, maybe about a week after I came to the area."

     Ever the healer, she eyed Hawkeye, taking in his pallor or lack thereof, the state of any visible injuries, and the way he moves. Yeah, no, he was in no shape to get up and around. "Would a bribe help convince you to rest?"

     Glancing over at Cap, she smiles, and ducks her head a bit. "Just doing what needed to be done. At least the situation on the rooftop was contained." Her lips curl upwards in a smile, and she holds up the covered container, prying the lid off the top. "Figured that some orange almond pillow cookies might beat out jello for a dessert in medical any day. There's plenty to share."

     She turns then to look at Skye, smiling and dipping her head in greeting. "Miss Johnson, a pleasure. I think you're going to have your hands full with this one," she says, lifting her chin in Clint's direction, with a light chuckle. "Just make sure he doesn't undo my good work?"

Quake has posed:
So the Avenger's infirmary probably had the same message when treating Clint: He's a danger to himself and *will* try to escape if you didn't keep an eye on him. "Thanks Steve. I suppose I could take a shift." She grinned."After all, I'm on restricted duty myself."

Skye held up her arms, which Steve may remember (or not) something about her using them.

"Me?" She laughs at what Steve says. "It's a long story. Ask me another time."

"So, you saved him?" Skye looks over at Shannon, as she sits down beside the bed, giving a kiss on the forehead to Clint. "What did you do Hotshot?"

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"Hey, waitaminit there," Clint protests, instinctively trying to get on his feet, which would be the proper stance for a protestation. Sadly for him, the immobilized left leg will remain immobilized. "Ah da fu..." he groans in pain, sitting back against the pillows. Would that stop him from protesting? Never!

"First, the Americas are large, so just be happy I'm not callin' ya Captain North America." He pauses, grinning, finding that the decor suddenly has a nice sway to it. "Secondly, huh... I... I can take care of myself just fine." Which is why he's in the medbay - right -, a contradiction that would never deter him from arguing about this point. "Thirdly, Skye has a very level head, heck, she could even level yours..." He nods as she held up her arms, their line of thinking similar on this point, "Exactly."

Then he pauses, tilting his head, which remains strangely tilted, as he stares at the moving walls. "Fourthy... huh... fourtily... huh, gimme cookies." Oh oh, he's getting out of it.

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers nods to Skye, "I'm still curious about that myself. Shannon patched you up and we got you in to be treated, but the exact circumstances of how you got hurt, I haven't quite gotten as of yet. I'm sure you were doing something very heroic. Fighting evil secret agents. Helping get a cat out of a tree. That kind of thing."

He reaches over and gets a cookie for himself, taking a bite and giving a bright smile of appreciation, "Oh, these really are excellent. Makes me want to get myself injured just to see what you might bake up for me. I'll have you on speed dial right next to my chiropractor."

"Clint, settle down before I have Thor come in her and lay his hammer on your chest to keep you in place."

Nightingale has posed:
     It's impossible to resist a mild jab at Captain Rogers. With her pale azure eyes twinkling with mischief, Shannon just looks right at him, trying her hardest not to get a fertilizer-consuming grin on her face. "Thank you. In your case, I'd say molasses crinkles, or chocolate chip. Both were popular way back in the day, I believe?" She chortles softly, and just smiles. "All you have to do is ask if you want something. I wouldn't mind at all. Cooking is one of my Zen things."

     Ohh, boy. The elephant in the room. Just how -did- Clint wind up with his injuries, anyhow? Giving a little flick of her wings, Shannon coughs lightly, her smile starting to fade. "Can't speak for how the initial injuries were incurred, I just was flying overhead when the fertilizer was hitting the fan. Seemed Mr. Barton was dealing with some local trouble and got himself dinged up but good. A bit of gang trouble, think he called them... the Hood? There was an explosive device on the roof, some unconscious gang members, and there I am flying over, just trying to get some shawarma home for dinner. I swear, me going to that place in the city is -cursed-!"

     She eyerolls and sighs lightly. "Long story short, I set the tourniquet on his leg, but his arm was busted up, so guess who had to fire one of those souped-up arrows of his that neutralized the explosive? Thought for sure I'd need a new pair of pants... scared the bejeebers out of me, never picked up a bow before that."

     Glancing over at Skye, Shannon smiles a little sheepishly. "Just doing what had to be done, miss Johnson. It's what I'm training for."

Quake has posed:
Skye had blown her secret out of the water, so to speak.. "I Quake'd the enemy at the AMI mission." And then she realized he meant Clint. And laughed. "And behave Hotshot." She's got much more oomp than Thor, considering what she was planning on keeping off the table, so to speak, as long as he fought with the staff about getting better. "Or you know *what* you won't be enjoying." *ahem*

"Probably getting a cat out of a tree." She grins and teases him. "Sounds like him."

But she listens to Shannon's story, and frowns. "Thanks for saving him." And using the bow! "Must have been your day." And to the group, "Does anyone know what was on the rooftop?"

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
And as if to obey Cap, Clint settles down and manages to rest on his left elbow, half turned so to face his visitors. Being barely able to remain awake - very potent drugs they use these Avengers - it might not be the best idea for Clint to eat anything right now. His eyes follow the cookies container as it is passed around, everyone enjoying Shannon's delicious treats. But not Clint.

"You can't," he finally replies to Cap, his eyes trying to remain on the Legend as he speaks, "Goldie's busy shampooin' with Nat's lavender... or... watermelon... shampoo..." This was a revelation made a few months ago by Thor and WonderMan - one he didn't really wanted to share - but hey, the drugs made him say it! Who knows what else he could reveal, if not stopped. Something about pink costumes?

As for what happened on the rooftop, he can only remember some bits and seems content with Shannon's description, only adding. "Silly-putty."

Now, Clint is staring at Skye. Staring. Hard to say what's going on in his brain, his drugs induced thoughts probably making him exagerate things, taking her light threats way too seriously. "You wouldn't, wouldya? I swear, it's wasn't my fault, it was the Hood." The voice almost sounding like a scared kid. Then he pauses, his eyes getting a bit blurry and puppy-like.

"Cookie?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers narrows his eyes. Not that he isn't glad that his friend is okay or that they have others who care about him to help look after him in his time of woe. But an Avenger has been attacked and Cap doesn't take that lightly, not ever.

"Tell me about The Hood," he says, pulling up a chair and straddling it, resting his arms on the back. Cookies and banter are forgotten for the moment as Cap brings the full weight of his attention to a new enemy.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Wish I could, Cap. But I'd never heard of them before that. Mr. Barton's the one with the intel there." Shannon ruffles her wings in an approximation of a shrug, and offers an apologetic smile. She reached for one of the myriad rollng bedside tables that are a mainstay of medical centers everywhere, plopping the container of cookies atop it and placing it in reach of everyone present--including Clint.

     Stealing a quick glance at the shield--something she had never expected to see but for the most dire of circumstances--she takes a step back. "Is this something I should be hearing?" she finally asks. As wonderful as the privelege of visiting was, she also had to respect some boundaries. And, in the end, she was neither SHIELD, nor an Avenger. She was, at the moment, just a visitor. A visitor that still looked between Skye and Clint, and barely managed to suppress a giggle.

     Whatever happened in the medbay, stayed in the medbay.

Quake has posed:
"Well," Skye furrowed brows as she thought of this situation, and Shannon. "You did have something to do with the event. I'm sure we want all the information."

As for Clint, she just shakes her head. Let him think about it.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
The quick movement - Cap sitting down - caught Clint's eyes and he instinctively pulls his head back, as if puzzled by the sudden blur of Blue, Red and White before him. Woah. When the psychadelic blur settles, Hawkeye can focus on Cap, although a bit less able to focus on an answer. It will be left to Cap and Skye to decide if such information is classified.

"Hood... criminal gang around Marcy..." He pauses, trying to clear his mind, at least for a few seconds. "Marcy's House, my place. They wanted to destroy the neighborhood, y'know... expel tenants, make big bucks in profit... So well..." He grins at that, "Didn't sit well with me and I... kinda kicked their asses... They just didn't appreciate, y'know. Shannon... saw two of them, got them right, didn't I, Shannon?" He then pauses, seemingly troubled, "Didya send them here too?"

And then the cookies suddenly appear within Clint's unfocused viewing range. Resting as he is on his left, unhurt elbow, he automatically tries to use his right arm - which is busted "Motherf...". Althought Shannon placed them within his reach, Clint cannot get any! It's a good thing there is no recording of the medbay, because was fellows could become blackmail stuff - although he could rightly blame the drugs for it.

"Coooookieeee!"

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers frowns, 'Sounds like some bad pieces of work. Maybe not the sort of thing we usually do as Avengers, but I'm glad to see you keeping your attention local, too. It can't all be alien tyrants and international despots," he says. "Good for you, archer. Maybe I'll have to pay a visit to this neighborhood of yours myself to help teach a few more lessons, until they get the message," he says.

To Shannon, he smiles, "Nothing top secret here. If anything, the more word we get out about people up to no good, the better. Sunshine's the best disinfectant."

Nightingale has posed:
     "Or mutant-hating so and so's who think we need to be 'Cured'..." Shannon adds on to Cap's litany of possible scenarios. Her voice actually goes a bit dark on that one, with a growling note of raw anger and disgust to it so out of place for the normally angelic-seeming teen. Perhaps a little close to home, that one? Her wings begin to flare out behind her, soon spreading out to their full span, feathers distinctly ruffled for an even more intimidating appearance. "Don't care who it is. I hate bullies."

     Closing her eyes, she takes a few deep breaths to calm herself down, slowly folding her wings back behind her again. When she is calm again, she opens her eyes, nodding as she looks at Clint. "Confirmed. I saw two of them as well. No idea what that black box device was, though, except it was set to explode. I'm not even sure if I want to know what a local gang was doing with something like that."

     She can stand Clint's pleas for a cookie no further, and nudges the container a bit closer to him. "There you go." Is that a smile on her face, however small? No, surely it's a trick of the glaring medbay lights.

Quake has posed:
Skye frowns. "So, they're really a pain in the ass." Ooops, sorry Steve. "But nothing untoward. Other then they've ramped it up, and managed to put Clint in a cast." Sorta. "They really should be taken down."

She wondered idly if the Bird's would be interested. Maybe? She knew she would be!

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Ah, finally, cookie!!!! With some effort, Clint finally can grab the oh! so coveted treat. Shifting his weight on his back, freeing his good elbow, Clint seems to be lost to everything and everyone around, as he finally got his cookie. With his head resting against the soft pillow, the drugs now in full force, the archer closes his eyes. All notion of fight, Hood creeps, blood and even pain suddenly vanishes... and Clint Barton falls alseep.

Cookie in hand.

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers stands up, "Get some rest, Avenger," he says, patting a hand on Clint's shoulder, "I'll leave him in your hands," he nods to Skye, "Shannon, I'll walk you out, I don't want you to have any trouble with the security. Tony can be a bit overzealous in such matters and I'd hate for you to get hassled. And maybe I'll steal a few more cookies along the way," he winks.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Mr. Stark's lousy at basketball, but great when it comes to security," Shannon retorts, attempting--unsuccessfully--to stifle a giggle. She smiles at Clint and Skye, nodding her farewell to them both. Best to leave the pair undisturbed. It was a sweet sight, in its own way, if it weren't for the fact that it just so happened to be in a medbay!

     As she follows Cap along down the corridor, she just chuckles lightly, shaking her head and flexing her wings in preparation for flight. "You know, there are a couple classmates of mine that are never gonna believe I was here," she begins. "And as for cookies? No need to steal. You've got my number for that."

     Indeed, a healer's--or a baker's--work was never done.