4000/Log 4000

Log 4000
Date of Scene:	02 March 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Quake, Hawkeye (Barton), Darcy Lewis, Melinda May

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Quake has posed:
Skye had drank all the drinks until she couldn't see straight. She'd stopped talking about the mission somewhere between her second and third tumbler. By her fourth she wasn't able to walk, let alone sit up straight. That's when May called it quits.

Thank-goodness for Clint, because Skye was going to park her butt in residence in May's house, and frankly, odds were the girl was not only going to be sick, but a very unhappy camper in the morning.

However, odds were also she'd gotten the worst of it out of her system as well.

Cue morning, and a very, VERY unhappy Skye wincing at the barest slit of sunlight peeking through the blackouts in their room.

"Make it stop." Her moan was pathetic.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint had been up early slipped out of bed. Did a run and was now stepping out of the shower when Skye moans piteously from the bedroom. He tugs on his sweat pants and steps out into the bedroom proper, toweling his hair. "Hey, gonna survive?" he says asks his voice low and quiet. "Water and Advil next to the bed," he says jerking his head in that direction.

Quake has posed:
"No. Think I'm just going to die here."

She barely manages to crack one eye open ever so slightly to try and find the water and the Advil. Bad move on her part. The room tilts violently to the left, and both water and pills go whoosh to the right as she flails trying to stop the world from dumping her off of it.

Another moan ensues.

"No. Really. Gonna die here. Stupid Fury."

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Front door opens then closes. A moment later, the smell of McDonald's heralds Darcy's arrival.

"Go ahead and die. I've brought potions of resurrection or something," Darcy nerds as she moves in just in time to hear the moan. Green eyes flit to Clint briefly: You let her drink this much?

One hand sets the McDonald's bag on the bedside table, the other holds out a wrapped baggie envelop from Zazzle.com toward Clint... with a smile.

You totally want to trust this smile. It is the best smile.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"You're not going to die, also, how is this Fury's fault?" the archer asks.

Clint tosses the towel to the dresser and grabs his shirt, he's halfway done pulling it on when Darcy arrives. Shaking his hea as he pulls it down over his head, he catches Darcy's look and mouthes ~I wasn't there~ in his defense.

He gives the envelope a skeptical look before he takes it. "What's this?" he asks.

Quake has posed:
"Stupid mission," Skye complains. "Told me to self-medicate."

Which is only partially true. Sure, he'd said that's how you get through this. He hadn't specifically told her to drink until she couldn't see straight. However, semantics weren't Skye's strong suit. Everyone knew that. Or should by now based on her actions as an Agent.

Her body, however, is having something of a war. Her nostrils are quite certain that whatever Darcy brought is the most heavenly divine thing she's every smelled in her life, while her stomach is insisting that it's done with food for the rest of her life m'kai thanx and please to be taking that vile stuff away or pay the consequences.

Melinda May has posed:
The front door opens and closes again quietly just a moment after Darcy's aromatic arrival. Because of course May drove here, and of course Darcy ran ahead with the food like an over-excited eight year old. She nods a hello to Clint past Lewis then just pads quietly through to the kitchen where she wou;d be shocked if she didn't see coffee already made. Either way, though, she'll start working on making more. Because the smell of coffee is a heavenly thing.

Even if the taste of the stuff is Satan's ass in a cup.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
And that's why the expert was called! I wasn't there. Lame sauce. Darcy just smiles at Clint, like the cool aunt on Christmas.

"You should open it," is all Darcy says, hands diving into the bag for a Sausage Egg McMuffin and a greasy hashbrown. These she offers to Skye, attention now on the other woman.

"Here. Eat or I feed you, and Barton would LOVE to watch how I manage it," Darcy singsongs the not-threat.

May? What May? Darcy hear not a May!

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint is still skeptical, and as he tugs the envelope open, he hears the front door. "Hey, if you're robbing the place, I'm totally an Avenger!" he calls downstairs ahead of the smell off coffee. Though when the sausage and egg McMuffin is revealed he asks plaintively "Where's mine?"

The envelope finally gives way and he pulls out what's inside, it's purple, that's a start, and flames, okay that's cool, then pulls it all the way free and lets them drop to full length. Jesus, it's leggings with a fire pattern. Ones that looked very, very small for him.

"Is there a message here, Darce?" he asks, flaming pants and all of that.

Quake has posed:
Skye moans again, and despite what her *stomach* says, she knows Darcy well enough to know that if she doesn't at least try to eat the stuff, the other woman /will/ feed it to her, and that's just a bit terrifying.

It's with pathetic slowness she sits up, one hand clutched around the egg-mcmuffin.

"If I'm sick I'm not cleaning it up."

Her scowl is directed at Darcy like Darcy is totally responsible for her drinking the night before, or her spectacular hangover this morning.

"Fuck me, is the room supposed to still be moving?"

Yeah, she might have had more last night than she's ever had before. Though it did help her forget how miserable she was over the mission. She'd accomplished that much at least.

Fearfully, she nibbles on the edge of the muffin, getting a tiny bit of the sausage. The rumble from her tummy can be heard across the room.

Apparently her tummy was lying about giving up food.

Melinda May has posed:
With the coffee brewing, May starts to look for ingredients to cook a PROPER breakfast for everyone. She opens the fridge, and her eyebrows draw together in a faint hint of a frown. She moves on to the pantry and looks inside, and frowns openly. Then she pulls her phone and makes a call, ordering enough for Skye, Clint, Darcy, and herself. And probably more besides.

But, since they're all still over in that other room, no one actually got to hear what she ordered. It'll be a surprise. At least she's thoughtful enough to fill a mug with coffee and carry it in to where Skye is nibbling on that mcmuffin thing.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
To clint, Darcy smiles That Smile again. She winks before waving him toward the bathroom.

"Well? Go on! Let's see if they fit," she coos at the hawk-eyed Agent. Oooh, someone's rubbing it in. With the the tummy rumble, Darcy turns back to smile at Skye.

"McMuffin when you come out in tight as fuck stretchy hot pants, Hot Shot," she quips over her shoulder at Barton while smiling at Skye and settling herself to the edge of the bed beside her. She'll save the dont' drink so much next time dumbass lecture for later.

Coffee? Darcy looks up at the mug, leaning forward even as she KNOWS the mug is for Skye.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"Eat, Keyboard," Clint urges when Skye is presented with the McMuffin to munch on. "You'll feel better." Then he can smell the coffee downstairs. "Ah, must be May," he says, though coffee, that was a good idea.

"Want some coffee?" he asks Skye.

When Darcy asks him to try on the leggings, he grins wryly at her and for a moment balks before a grin crosses his face, and he puts them on his head instead. "Fits fine, way less tight than I thought they'd be," he says, fiddling with one of the legs so it hangs down over a shoulder.

Quake has posed:
Skye's nose crinkles.

"Can we all agree to speak quieter?"

She winces at the sound of her own voice, certain that she must be yelling, only she's really only whispering. Though she's got a solution for that once she's taken a bite of her mcmuffin.

~Coffee. Please. Black.~ Even if she normally threw cream at it if she were drinking it for pleasure. Clearly this first cup at least was not going to be for pleasure.

Blinking at the shenanigans of the leggings, because laughing? So not on the agenda till her head stops hurting.

Melinda May has posed:
May just skirts around Clint with the purple and flame leggings on his head and holds the mug of coffee -- yes, black -- out to Skye. "There's more in the kitchen," she tells Darcy, fulling expecting her to instantly bolt that direction. Lewis has kind of been in eight year old mode all morning. She'll probably cut her off of the caffeine after one cup.

"Also, I ordered a proper breakfast for everyone." She is speaking a bit more softly than normal, but not by all that much.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
"This is why we love you, Mom," Darcy quips at may, perhaps ill-advisedly. She doesn't care. Clint is wearing the leggings. On his head, but whatever; he is wearing them! #Winning

"I'm not really going to speak quieter. In fact, I was thinking of talking a bit louder. Only so that you'll remember this the next time you decide it's a great idea to get blitzed. Right, Clinty-pie?"

Bolt? For coffee? ....soon!

Quake has posed:
Skye winces, eyes closing, and she looks to be in pain.

"Fury told me to," she mutters. AGain putting the blame on the man even if it isn't /quite/ what Fury meant likely. But hey, it's her first undercover. Mistakes will be made. Something like that.

"Hate you too." The words come with a scowl, and some finger motions that you don't need to know sign to decipher. But hey, there's coffee. And something something about a proper breakfast.

"Huh? More food?" Skye squints with some difficulty to focus down on May. Thank god nobody threw open the blinds. She really would have just crawled back into the bed and waited for merciful death. "Do I look like a Hobbit?"

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"C'mon, Darce, cut her some slack," Clint says of speaking loud around Skye. "Like she said, Fury's orders," okay well suggestion. It wasn't a real excuse but he was keen to cut Skye some slack of his own, At least until he had an idea of how she was really feeling beyond the pain and suffering of the hangover.

When May mentions food is coming, Clint says, "I'll go down and wait for it," he says. "And I'll close all the drapes, I assume we're eating downstairs?"

Melinda May has posed:
The moment Skye's hand latches onto the coffee mug, May starts to pull on it in an attempt to force the young woman to her feet. If need be, she'll snag Skye's other arm to continue to pull her to her feet.

However long it takes, May bullies Skye into leaving the bedroom and relocating downstairs. She's at least willing to compromise and let her collapse onto the sofa instead of forcing her to sit at the breakfast table.

Oh, and somewhere along the way, she sends Darcy to get ibuprofen, or tylenol, or whatever is handy in the house.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
"Well, given that it's a dumbass order, I would have chosen to ignore it," quips at Barton. With May trying to bully Skye up, Darcy tries to help in the most unhelpful of helpful ways, right until May sends her off on a quest!

What! Is your name?
    Darcy Lewis.

What! is your quest?
    I seek the ty-lenol.

What! Is the average wing speed of an unladen swallow?
    The average cruising airspeed velocity of an unladen European Swallow is roughly 11 meters per second, or 24 miles an hour. (http://style.org/unladenswallow/)

Darcy slips away to find that which she was sent to find.

Quake has posed:
Skye could have told her the stuff was in the bathroom. With Clint in the house they pretty much carried stock in the stuff. Hell, now that she'd been bumped up a notch or two, and a class over, Skye probably would get her own personal bottle. She could see Clint doing that, smug little bastard that he was.

But then again, that's why she loved him.

And damn May with that teasing mug of coffee being dragged just out of reach. She gets it, though. It's three against one, even if Clint is a softie and she could probably get him to relent. Besides, if she doesn't go downstairs and eat like a human being, the odds were great they'd be picnicing on the bed, and no. Just no. Skye didn't want memories of that the next time she and Clint went to bed.

With a softly protesting moan, and one hand clutched around the remains of her mcmuffin, Skye drags herself out of bed. And aren't we all glad nobody stripped her naken last night, huh? Though she had no clue at what point she ended up in one of Clint's shirts. Only of life's little mysteries.

And somehow, some way, they all manage to get Skye downstairs and sitting at the kitchen table.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Not only would Clint get Skye here own bottle of Ibuprofen to celebrate her promotion but he'd even put a bow on the sucker. Yeah, he was just that kind of smug bastard. Actually, if Darcy checks the second cupboard in the bathroom, he may just find such a bow adorned bottle.

Clint for his part is downstairs doing what he promised, closing drapes and blinds, and making the downstairs as Skye friendly as possible, all while wearing the leggings as a hat.

When he's done, he grabs himself a cup of coffee and puts the kettle on for May's inevitable tea. He's got a tin of the good stuff here, what was left of whatever May brought to his apartment during one of her Mom visits.