3252/Do Angels Even Eat

Do Angels Even Eat
Date of Scene:	27 November 2017
Location:	Triskelion, New York City
Synopsis:	Castiel drops into the Triskelion to inform Director Fury of security lapses. Clint Barton waylays him. Things happen. A fight breaks out. Castiel heals Clint's deafness.
Cast of Characters:	Hawkeye (Barton), Castiel

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Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint sighed when he got the text. One of the weirder division's consultants had popped in unexpectedly for a visit and because Clint was in the building, he'd been given the job of playing host. Greeat. So where do you take a weirdo while they dig up his equally weird contact in SHIELD? The cafeteria, everyone's got to eat right?

"Yeah, I don't know if you do the whole Thanksgiving thing," he says giving his charge a quick look up and down, "But they've got a pretty good spread right now, word is there's still some pumpkin pie left."

Castiel has posed:
Castiel. Angel of the Lord. Or formerly so. His actual status was something of an enigma in many ways. Fallen, falling, and yet still with enough of his angelic nature that he wasn't human either. At least not in the strictest sense.

He'd popped in on the Triskelion with intent. Not that he'd informed Agent May - after all, she said he should phone her if he intended to drop in on her, or any others of the very small list of numbers in his phone. As he had no intentions of bothering any of them, he'd merely bypassed all SHIELD security and appeared in the Triskelion itself. Once again noting the appalling lack of warding on the place.

Which was, ultimately, why he'd come today in the first place.

The greeting committee, however, left a lot to be desired. What was this Thanksgiving the man spoke of? And a spread? The only spread the body seemed inclined to inform of was a vague notion of a crowded smoky room, flat beer, and horses chasing one another down a circular track. There was something vaguely niggling about the fleeting memory, but nothing he was able to pin down, or isolate.

"I wish to speak to who is in charge," the man uttered in his rumbling gravel of a voice, hands shoved deep into his trench coat pockets, shoulders held in a hunch that both drew the oversized thing tight across his back and left it hanging loosely about the rest of him, only adding to his dishevel. "Where is this person?"

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
This guy was definitely weird. "You want to talk to Fury?" Clint asks eyeing Castiel again. "Well if that ever happens, I want to be there, front row, but it's not going to happen now. So, how's about we take a seat somewhere and have a bit of dinner, okay?" he offers the man. "I'll even get it for us, if you can tell me how you got in here like that. The guys you surprised said you just appeared? You a teleporter or something?" he asks, leaning against one of the nearby tables arms crossed. Clint wasn't sure if this guy'd ever be in the same room as Fury, but Clint sure was after this and he wanted to have more answers than, yeah boss, this guy was sort of weird.

Castiel has posed:
"This Fury? He is who is in charge?" Castiel seems uncertain if it's a name or an attitude. Given Angels and Demons, it isn't outside his real of experience that it might be either or both.

The offer of dinner met with the angel's craggy brows knit into an unruly line of consideration, the man standing there silent and unmoving as he regards Clint. The pause growing longer, and longer, until it seems Castiel will not answer at all, only to have him speak up abruptly, "I do not need the dinner."

And further, an irritated growl of, "I am an angel, you asshole. Not a teleporter." As though teleporter were a type of being, and not a thing one does. Teleporting, in fact, being exactly how he arrived in the Triskelion, a thing he does not admit to.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"Yep, Fury's the guy in charge," Clint says with a nod, continuing to eye Castiel because the guy hadn't gotten any less weird.

Clint kept up the staring contest, he was standing for SHIELD, and so he felt he owed the company that much, when he relents, and Castiel says he doesn't want dinner, then Clint nodded. "Fine by me. Wait one, we'll get back to this teleporter business in a sec," he begins to turn before Castiel's reply has him turn again. "Wait, say what now? You think you're an angel?" he asks.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel bristles.

If he were irritated moments before, he was acting nearly insulted now, shoulders drawing back and the man standing to his full height.

It wasn't a formidable height, only average for a man, and yet, there was something about him that spoke of more. Just the barest hints of it. A resolution to his stance. A defiance. The depth and feel of a man who had faced a thousand Clint Barton's in his lifetime and not shrunk before a single one.

"I do not think I am, you idiot. I know I am. Where is this Fury. I grow tired of this."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint takes a step back and to him that's one too many. Again, he was repping SHIELD here, and it wouldn't do to be overawed by whoever this guy was.

Clint takes him in, there was definitely something 'other' about the guy, as though there might be something else to him than just a nut job with delusions of grandeur. Though you could say the same about Thor and Clint routinely shot arrows at the guy on weekend training sessions.

Clint squares his shoulders but steps back with his leading foot, giving a bit more ground, but it was tactical, he didn't know what this guy could do. "Listen pal, angel, whatever, you're not seeing anyone if you don't calm your ass down and sit," he says pointing to a chair. "Then we can talk this out like regular people until someone comes to collect you. Sound good?" he asks, looking Castiel straight in the eye. Sure, some of that was intimidation, the rest was just good sense, if he was going to make a move, that's where Clint would see it first.

Castiel has posed:
"You do not believe," Castiel says simply, still holding his stance. "I tire of this discussion."

It's not said in an entirely dismissive tone. Certainly he's said he's done, but there's a quality to his voice that suggests there is about to be a shift. That Castiel has decided this argument can best be shortened by other means, and while he's been wont to merely let his angelic nature shine forth in the past, the angel is also keenly aware that the Agent May will take it upon herself to lecture him if he upsets too many of those that dwell within this place.

The answer is quite simple: The man before him is an impediment to Castiel speaking with the man Fury, by merely removing them both to a less fraught ground, a different discussion can begin. One without the tall, blonde one's posturing.

He hadn't been a Warrior of the Lord for eons to merely shrink away from one such as Clint.

Castiel reaches out, and places his hand upon that pointing arm and...

One moment the pair are in the Triskelion. The next? The next they are in a darkened apartment. One devoid of all the trappings of occupation. There's sudden flash in the darkness, followed by a fading to a lowlit glow. Something of a spirit light. The angel no longer holding Clint's arm, merely standing in front of Clint, watching him with a piercingly calm blue gaze.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint doesn't believe? "No shit," Clint replies. "The Avengers get like two of you a week coming by claiming to be a big deal because they have powers. FYI most go for 'god' not 'angel' I mean if you're going to be nuts, why not go all out?"

Clint may not believe in angels, but he does believe in his instincts, and when he senses that shift in Castiel he begins to move back, gain some room to move for the fight he thinks is coming.

What he didn't expect is teleportation. One moment he's in the cafeteria the next he's in this dark room. Clint jerks backwards when his hand is released, glancing around in the pale white light. His uncertainty shows through, he's weighing options and trying to gague just what the hell he's gotten into right now. The room seemed empty, but terrestrial but who knew what was what when powers were concerned, he turns back to Castiel blinking in the face of that gaze, "We still on Earth?" he asks.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel is still that calmness, regarding the tall blonde man before him, aware that the other thought to prepare for a fight. More than aware that his move to bring Clint to his personal dwelling space might have pushed the man over the edge fro contemplating an altercation to fully forcing one.

Still, Castiel himself does not seem inclined to make any move in that direction, his objective seemingly reached: Neutral ground. If you could say Castiel's apartment qualified as nuetral.

"I would not take you elsewhere," the angel says simply, the gravel of his tones less irritated now, even if they carry hinted edges of that, the blue of his gaze remaining intent. "It seemed simpler to merely not be there. You wished to speak. I assure you, I am what I say I am."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint was waiting for one thing, confirmation that he was still on Earth. When he gets it he says, "Good," then swings hard at Castiel looking to follow that swing up with a kick. Castiel can likely see the cue to these attacks from his experience, but they are sharply delivered. And if they land Clint will make a dash for the window. He figures he has a better shot there than the door, quicker, but there's the chance they are way high up too.

Castiel has posed:
It's with insultingly casual ease that Castiel blocks the blow, and ignoring the kick, merely grabs Clint's arm, turning his body, and tossing the other into the closest apartment wall. Sadly, for Clint, it isn't the wall with the windows. Nor the door. And as Castiel is situated, the angel can and will reach either before an attempting to flee Clint.

"No harm is meant," the angel grinds out, the ease replaced by that odd tense stillness the man carries himself with. "But I will fight if you continue. You wished to talk. I have brought us where we both may speak without the upset of the Triskelion."

The angel now a slow advance on Clint, seemingly intent upon the man, a hand held out in offering. An odd thing to do if one considers Clint may very well wish to continue the engagement.

"Are you hurt?" The question a considered sympathy for the man he's just thrown into the wall.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint hits the wall with a THUD. There's probably a dent and a little powdered plaster in the air now too. Also there is a fair bit of pain. Clint rolls to his knees, but the sudden spasm in his back, which had taken the bulk of the blow keeps him from standing.

~Fuck and he was holding back~

So when Castiel comes extending a hand, Clint is more receptive. He chances it, reaching out to grab on and yank himself to his feet. It hurts, but he grits through it, "Oh sure rub it in. Of course I'm hurt, you threw me into fucking the wall!" he growls, annoyed.

Castiel has posed:
"You would have struck me," Castiel says with infuriating calmness. "I did not think you wished to be put to sleep. But your injury I can heal."

The offer is made in softer tones - not apologetic ones, to be certain, but softer. Mollifying, perhaps.

CAstiel glances over at the wall. "The wall I can not fix so easily. You have dented it."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint stares daggers at th guy, he was so damn calm. It's annoying. Especially when he's just kicked your ass and your heart is racing because you know there's a good chance if this guy's an asshole, you're dead. Clint pushes that out of his mind, translating it all into that thing he knows best, anger and snark. "Nah, I'll be fine, good doctors at SHIELD," he says, clearly not fine. "And hey, /you/ dented the wall you just did it with my back."

Castiel has posed:
Again, as in the Triskelion, Castiel's brows knit together in a ragged line of consideration. "That is not necessary. I did not wish you injured. I do not wish to force you to accept the help, but you are not as well as you claim. I find I must insist."

He fails to appreciate the semantics or the humour of Clint suggesting he, himself, had dented the wall... albeit with Clint.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint lets out a sigh, thinks a moment then nods slowly. If the guy was going to kill him he didn't have to pretend to heal him. That was the thought anyhow, so he'd roll those dice. "Alright, angel-guy, heal away," he says, presenting his back to Castiel. Part of him told him this was a suckers move, the rest, well, the rest was curious.

Castiel has posed:
"Castiel," Castiel says quietly, reaching out now to lay a hand upon Clint. "I am called Castiel."

It isn't an immediate fix, but neither is it a long one, the injuries not being so severe as to be complicated or taxing. Castiel taking time while he is already there to ascertain all else is well with the man and tending to any other ill that there might be. It's not a thing he announces, merely one he does, only removing his hand once he is finished.

"You did not give your name."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint blinks, as he feels the healing touch on his back. That's what heals first the soreness in his back, easing slowly until it fades away to nothing, then other hurts go, sore spots on his hands from the morning's archery practice, a few errant scratches on his back and shoulders, then deeper stuff, the building damage from years of pushing his body to the limit. "Jesus," Clint swears as the hand is removed and he is no longer lost to the sensations of his body knitting itself back together. Maybe, Jesus was too close to the mark there, he turns, holding up a hand. "Sorry," he says on the off chance the guy wasn't nuts. while he takes a moment to adjust and feel the changes the healing had wrought.

When he's done, he looks up, "Castiel huh? Clint Barton," he offers Castiel a hand.

Castiel has posed:
"Not Jesus," Castiel offers in nearly flattened tones. "An angel of the Lord." then he corrects himself, "Formerly an angel of Lord. Once of the Choir."

He does not nod the way another might to Clint's introduction of himself. Nor does he take the hand as offered, staring at it for long moments before there is a subtle adjustment of stance as the angel relaxes some, the odd motions of his body seemingly banished as a hand is offered back. As though the body remembers what the angel himself does not know.

"There are old wounds I may banish from you if you wish. The scars. They would take more time, though. You have held many of them for too long."

It isn't an apology, merely an observation.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint can't help but smirk a little at how Castiel talks like Jesus is just some guy, not a story. "So, what? You know the guy?" he asks, which is an odd thought, even for someone used to Avengers level weird. He takes a breath, "So what happened, why are you on the outs with the big guy?"

For all Clint didn't believe, he felt great. Whatever meta power or magic this guy had it did the trick. So, when the other offer comes after the world's awkwardest handshake, he accepts. "Really? My scars too?" he asks hesitating a moment before he nods, "Sure, why not."

Castiel has posed:
Castiel regards Clint calmly, head canted fractionally to one side, his shoulders set an an off angle to his body, almost as if he were considering leaning in to tell a secret, or equally, like he might be considering to shoulder his way through Clint like a linebacker.

"I am an angel of the Lord, once of the Choir. I could hardly not meet the Saviour. Even less, not know of him." There's a pause. "You do not understand angels, do you?"

He doesn't wait long for an answer, though, turning his regard upon the other matter. "It is only time and some small effort," Castiel nods. "They are not a mortal affliction, but also not as simple as closing a wound. Your body remembers the scars. We will remind it of how it was before them."

A rather cryptic way of saying the scar tissue needs to be replaced with fresh, healed cells, and there may be some small adjustments Clint will find himself making as his body no longer need compensate for old wounds at skin and joins.

Castiel gestures that Clint should sit, and with the lack of furniture in this space, it will have to be on the floor. Castiel kneeling down beside him and laying on his hands to begin the healing process.