Owner	Pose
Hela	At peak hours, the place is full of noise, loud conversations mingling while the speakers play a unique brand of Viking-themed metal, the likes of Ensiferum and such. The long hall type tables are filled with friends and strangers alike, sat together, mingling over mead in drinking horns and Scandinavian cuisine, with some more American affairs afforded to those who loathe to go out of their comfort zone. Those who seek some modicum of seclusion, have their privacy on the Faering boats, and the staff seems to expertly see to everyone's desires. A standout feature, as always, is the astoundingly accurate Mjolnir replica hanging over the bar, that some might suspect may be the real thing. Clint would be one who for sure would know better. The proprietress, the so called 'Miracle' Elle, is dressed in a surprisingly goth fashion, every now and then making rounds to ensure everyone is well, and the service is not lacking. But coming later at night, when things start to slow down, there aren't nearly as many people, and sections are being closed off little by little, as the staff prepares to end the night. It is easier at this moment to get a word with Elle. If Clint wasn't already familiar with how she looks, the staff would easily point her out.
Clint Barton	Starphon 5 slides back into the pocket of his jacket. That's it, right place, Club Mjolnir. SHIELD has some interesting files on some of its patrons, although the streets brought more intel about this place, and the person Clint Barton is looking for. Elle. Strange name. Doesn't it mean /Her/ in French? Clint Barton enters the Club, reminding himself to take a refresh class in French. Quick look around, no immediate threat. Perusing the room, noticing the Mjolnir replica, he shakes his head, grinning. Now that he gained a good idea of the immediate surroundings, he walks to on of the staff. If he had lots of time on his hands, he's just sit and spot her, but he doesn't have much time. "Evenin'," he says, "I'm looking for /Elle/. Is she around?" And no, no /miracle/ there, who believes in that sort of things as miracles.
Hela	While the staff are partaking in their duty, one of their number, a handsome blond walks up to Clint when he looks like he has something to ask. He answers very quickly, and politely, pointing out the goth looking woman, who is currently sat at the far end of the bar, sipping from a drinking horn. The moment she sees one of her employees pointing her way, her attention soon follows towards Clint, beckoning him towards her with her free hand.
Clint Barton	With a nod at the staff, and following the hand gesture, Clint proceeds toward the woman, quickly assessing her as he approaches her. "You are /Elle/?" he asks. It never hurts to make sure. There's an empty stool besides her, but the archer doesn't sit down just yet.
Hela	Ellle has her eerie green eyes set on Clint even as he approaches, casually taking another sip from her drinking horn as he comes even closer, only stopping once he speaks. "That I am," she answers, her lips angling into a crooked smile, "who is asking for me, if I may...?" She asks, gesturing at the stool besides her upon noting Clint's hesitation to sit without an invitation. "You've good manners on you," she points out, "not unlike most Americans." There's lilts to her voice, an accent suggesting a Norwegian heritage.
Clint Barton	This is not an official business for Barton, still he seems to be quite tense. Neither the weird Club that reeks of cheap replicas, nor the woman in front of him would normally induce such reaction in him. Heck, he's seen lots of weirdos, so there must be something bothering him. "Can't be more American than I," he replies, "Clint, you can call me Clint," he replies. Nice eyes, strange eyes. Quick look around - professional habit - he then sits down. "I need an information, maybe you can help," he then states, without any apprehension or hesitation, like someone used to question people, like someone who is on a mission to find answers.
Hela	"Is that so...?" Elle considers with a slight tilt of her head, looking somewhat amused, "not even Captain America?" She asks, clearly having heard about the Avengers. Even if it wasn't quite so clear she recognized Hawkeye himself, despite him being in civillian wear. "I shall call you Clint, as you wish, assuming that is your name," she winks playfully, apparently going off the fact he may well ask her to call him whatever, regardless of his actual name. Not unlike what she may or may not be doing. "That's refreshing, usually it was the wizard who would look for me for that sort...Dr. Strange...?" Elle muses, before swiveling in her seat to face Clint, giving him her full attention as she motions for a waiter to take the empty drinking horn from her. "What information do you seek...?"
Clint Barton	In any other circumstances, joking about Cap would be in order. But her mentionning Strange means that this woman ain't a total fake, like everything around, including Mjolnir probably made of papier maché. Despite the hussle-and-bustle around, Clint instinctively lowers his voice as he explains. "I want to talk to someone... that is dead." He pauses at that, shaking his head in a gesture that denotes his own incredulity at what he just said. But here you are, you started, finish what you came here for. Maybe the answer will be so stupid, you can turn around and forget about it. Get to the point. "How to do it, and what's the price?
Hela	Elle chuckles as Clint mentions wanting to talk to someone who is dead, and setting her hands on the counter, clasps her fingers together, as she draws a deep breath. "...that is...more than information that you seek," her head turns towards Clint, and for a brief moment she stares at him in stark silence. Those eyes of hers can be quite unsettling with prolonged silence, and constant stare, but an Avenger just may be the kind of person to withstand such a gaze. Even though she's not doing anything at all, she just carries an eerie presence about her. Particularly after Clint voiced his request. "What you seek is to overstep a boundry made by Death," she speaks the word 'death' almost as if it was a person of some sort. "That is not done on a whim," she shifts her eyes to and fro, and then whispers to Clint in a voice barely audible, that he would need to focus to pick on, "...of course it could be done..." and then she returns to normal speaking volume, "but a price could be dear. Mmmmm...hard to say what it may entail, beyond a commitment that surpass mortal years." She then turns up and her arm reaches to grab Clint by the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards her if he allows it, as she whispers only to his ear, "...should I allow you a meeting with someone...would you pledge yourself to her for a moment of her choosing, be it in life or in death?" A very unusual question, and yet the fact she whispered it in his ear alone, with her voice fully serious...perhaps she wasn't joking just now.
Clint Barton	Indeed, the archer has seen about everything in the superheroes gig. Nonetheless, she positively gives him the creeps. The eyes. She didn't take him totally by surprise, when she grabbed his collar, his own arms half stopping her movement, but she was close enough for him to clearly hear her . The intensity in the archer's own eyes, not a match for hers, speak volume of his total understanding of the suggested deal. Never the one to easily agree to any deal - especially with a woman that gives him the creeps - Clint slowly leans back, so she lets go of his collar. He adjusts his jacket, frowning. "You'd have to define /moment/", he replies, not outright discarding a possible deal. "Especially in afterlife, that could be a hell of a long time." He pauses, frowning, "And last I checked, the master of Hell is quite close family with Loki, and yeah, for /some/ reason, his level of trust 'round here ain't so great. So I'd need to read the small caracters first."
Hela	Elle doesn't ease on the intensity of her gaze, apparently what Clint had ask draw more than just a cursory interest from her. It was rare for people to truly ask for something of the sort, because he seemed to consider even when given the rather ominous terms. "Surely you understand just what a moment is..." Elle muses, as she leans back, giving Clint ample personal space and apparently not seeking to pressure him to take any such deal. "Any point in time could be a moment. To some it's between the now and the future, to other it may even be between now and then. There's no telling what someone who commands the power to grant what you seek could ask..." at least in that regard Elle makes a lot of sense. As she stated, stepping across the dominion of Death, is no trivial matter. Particularly for a mortal. "You are familiar with Loki...?" Elle is apparently quite surprised, smiling softly at that revelation, "he is indeed a deity. Of Asgard, but Death is not his dominion...you would be wasting your time seeking audience with him." "You are aiming high in your aspirations, but per your reputation, your aim is true," Elle whispers with a mischevious grin, apparently having some idea about who Clint is when addressed by other names. That, or she just stumbled on an opportune wordplay. "When you better decide if you're willing to pay a price, seek me again...I will not try and make arrangements for one who doesn't truly have his mind set on what he it is he wants, and how much he values that very thing. Have a good day, Clint," and with that she simply gets up and heads towards a corridor behind the bar which seems to lead to a staff only area.