Owner	Pose
Rogue	Rogue has been frequenting Harry's Hideaway a lot in recent times. Mostly because it's a good place to get greasy food and decent drinks while being close enough to the Mansion she can get back quick but far enough away no one really bothers her. This late afternoon, she's tucked away against the wall enjoying a burger, fries, and rummaging on her phone. Her head bounces away to the tune of 'Hard to Handle' by the Black Crowes playing on the juke box.
Clint Barton	Stumbling through the door of Harry's Hideaway is Clint Barton. Likely recognizable to some of the faces in here or maybe it has something to do with the black and purple outfit that he's wearing. The mostly empty quiver on his back and the bow that's attached make it even clearer that he's one of those dang Avengers. Or at least a hero of some sort. He's also limping and looks as if he's been fighting quite a few individuals. Or maybe even some otherwordly creatures. Who really knows. There's barely a moment where Clint looks anywhere but to lock eyes on the bar... and limps himself in that direction. "Beer." Clint's bloody hand hits the top of the bar probably to steady himself. "Please." Much wincing. Much silent ow.
Rogue	Rogue side eyes the door as it opens until she recognizes the person walking through it. How does she recognize Clint Barton? Several ways. The outfit, the face, the bow and arrows...but when she notices he's limping and sees that bloody hand hit the bartop, she's out of her chair and walking over to the bar in the blink of an eye. "Harry, put his beer on my tab and have it brought to my table." No question. Simply stated. "You. Come on. Let's get you to sittin' and then you can tell me why the hell you've limped yer way here instead of to a hospital. Or back to some safe haven wherever you Avengers go for that kind of stuff." Not taking no for an answer there either as she places a GLOVED hand onto Clint's back to try and coax him into walking the little further way to her said table.
Clint Barton	"Familiar face." Clint might have a concussion or something the way he's kind of haphazardly looking at Rogue. Though, he's stumble-limping with her to make it to the table. "My ride's on the way. I think." Honestly, he can't remember if he sent the signal out or not. He's pretty sure he's got a tracker on him somewhere so SHIELD'll get to him eventually. "Also? No hospitals. There's actual people with actual emergencies there. I can shake this off," Clint slumps into his seat at the table and looks impatiently over in the direction of the bar. "Especially with... /BEER/!" Yeah, Clint's probably out of it from whatever battle he was just in. It takes a moment for Clint to even realize he's sitting down. "Thanks." Still has enough brains to offer gratitude though. That's something.
Rogue	"You're limping and bleeding. But...I kinda get it. Though I can't go to hospitals for other reasons entirely." Mostly because Rogue needs special handling when it comes to being hurt. Not that she gets hurt all that often, unless she's going up against Juggy. "What happened anyway? Anything the X-Men need to keep on their radar?" It's slightly business, or maybe she's just keeping him talking in case he does have a concussion. She at least knows not to let a concussed person fall asleep. The beer arrives a moment after they sit and she pushes her plate of food towards him. "If you want some fries, you're welcome to them... just to keep something else on your stomach aside from beer. Goddess bless, you remind me of Logan..." Only Wolverine would have already healed from these wounds and would just be pissed off he got hurt to begin with.
Clint Barton	"I've seen you get hit by the Big Man in the Laffy Taffy Suit. I don't think you do hospitals." Clint says with a bit of a smirk. The beer delivery gets an apologetic gratitude look from Clint since he was yelled in that direction. He's just a bit distressed mentally and physically at the moment. As the food gets slid over, Clint looks at it and the beer and leans back to get a little comfortable. His limpy leg gets stretched out some. "Eh, it's handled. SHIELD business." That's pretty much all he can say about it. He knows they are listening. They're always listening. This whole Hideaway could be a secret SHIELD location or something, who knows. "Fries are nature's comfort food." Clint grabs one and chomps down as he's compared to Logan. "I'm not sure if I'm insulted or ego-boosted. Let's put a pin in that one." Clint grins and grabs another fry.
Rogue	"He's about the only one who can hit me and it actually causes damage. I mean I don't have adamantium bones like Wolverine does, but I can take several hits without missing a beat. Usually. But also, since my actual power requires touch, I can't go to normal hospitals. I have to be seen back at the school." Rogue explains all of that and then shrugs. "Shield business. I get it. All on the hush hush down low. As long as it's taken care of, and you're going to get yourself looked at." She won't harp on it anymore, and the fact that he's drinking beer and eating food is a good sign all around. "I would hope it's an ego-boost. Logan can take a beating and walk away from it just like you did. He'll always want a beer after a scrap...kinda like you did...so.." She shrugs and then smirks, lifting up her burger to take a bite out of. "Speaking of Mister Big Laffy Taffy...I got in trouble for going up against him..."
Clint Barton	"You know what? Despite the fact that I'm probably going to be the sorest I've been in years tomorrow morning, when you put it like that..." Clint seems to be all okay with the Logan reference now that it has been broken down for him in a manner that makes him feel like he's not getting too old for this. A thought that often crosses his mind these days. Especially when he's doing missions alone like the one he just came from. "Wait, what?" Clint is in middle of bringing up another fry to chomp on. "How? Why?" Clint looks utterly confused at the fact that Rogue got into trouble. "We won. And nobody died." Clint frowns. "Do you need me to write a note because I can." Clint's already reaching for a napkin. "I need a pen. Find me a pen..."
Rogue	"Yeah. We won. No one died. Nothing got stolen. But see, I got hurt. And I did it alone - cause apparently even helping you out didn't gain me a gold star." Rogue offers this and then rolls her eyes. "I don't need a note. I need Summers to pull his head out of his ass. He got pissy that I took on Juggernaut by myself. No matter the reason, no matter the outcome...it wasn't a team effort. Or some bullshit like that." She waves a hand then before lifting her glass of soda to wash down her bites of burger. "I don't need anything, it's already over and dealt with. I just wanted you to know. At the end of the day, I kinda find it funny, and it's not like it's going to stop me from doing it all over again if I need to." She looks to the door then. "Feeling any better? Do you need me to wrap your hand or anything?" Motioning to the bloodied hand as she says this.
Clint Barton	Clint just stares at Rogue for a long moment while listening to the spiel about Scott. It's almost like he's frozen or something because he doesn't react for a long moment. Then... "Lame." That's all Clint has to say about that subject it seems. "Next time we'll let the Big Party Bus destroy the city and tell the press Summers Said So." Clint tries to grin away the lameness of Scott's chastisement of the person that most helped keep the Juggernaut from succeeding that night. He's going to have to let that 'fought Juggernaut alone' thing slide. What is he, chopped liver? "Eh, it'll be alright." Clint holds up the hand and wiggles the fingers. It's cut up but nothing seems to be broken or anything. "It's not my shooting hand so I'll live." Clint really is trying to be a good sport about all this pain he's in and not actually be a burden to anyone. Especially the one putting his beer on her tab.
Rogue	Rogue nods her head and then lets out a chuckle when Clint mentions they can just let Juggy destroy the city next time. "Yeah. We'll see how well THAT blows over." Then she shakes her head. "Alright. Enough shop talk. Tell me how you're really doing. Overall I mean. How're things going with the other Avengers and such... I feel like for as much as our worlds should collide...they don't actually for whatever reason." She says this much before taking another bite of her burger. "Only other one I've seen lately is Banner. He was taking a walk in Mutant Town, trying to avoid people...didn't quite work out. Thankfully he didn't wind up hulking out on us..."
Clint Barton	"No Hulking is always a good thing." Clint pauses and takes a sip of his beer. "I really need to come up with an Anti-Hulk Arrow. Hm." Maybe it's the potential concussion talking but he's starting to design one such arrow in his head probably. If the smirk on his face is any indiciation that is. He pulls himself back to the reality of his current situation with a shrug. "I"m hanging in there. As always." Clint motions to the bruises on his face. "I don't lead that interesting of a life so thee's not really much to tell." Or he's just being coy because he's a spy and he can't be getting conversationally close to people. "I'd say we're all getting by." Clint mentions of the Avengers.
Rogue	"Well that's about as vague as the difference 'tween a heaping and a helping..." Rogue offers in the most Southern way she can. "But I get it. You all got yer secrets. I s'pose we do too...just some of us are a bit more loose lipped than others." Not that she's out here giving away secrets or anything. She picks at a few fries and then gives a bit of a smirk. "I think the correct way to put that is you lead an interesting life that you cain't talk about and cover it with the most boring of shit to make it seem like yer life ain't worth a damn. I just hide away in my room or a forest or mountain when I don't wanna deal with people or things." A chuckle given then as she finishes off her burger.
Clint Barton	"Same. Only I usually am choosing between my bedroom and my living room. Closer, cheaper and comes with ESPN." Those seem to be Clint's own words getting up there in age and what he uses when he needs to get himself out of the very public doing of things. Clint's over here trying to bond with an X-Man about hero things. A sip of beer as he's not really sure how well that's going. "One day I'll be able to tell you all my secrets. Maybe after I retire." Which even now looks like it'll be quite a long time before he hangs up the quiver. Clint downs the rest of his beer. "I should probably see if they're here yet..." A glance off in the direction of the door from Clint.
Rogue	"I was kinda wondering. I doubt they'll pour into Harry's cause even SHIELD knows this is a safe space for us." Us meaning X-Men? Mutants? Heroes? Likely all of the above and then some. Still, she smiles to Clint. "Maybe you will. Maybe you won't. Just know that I don't mind the secrecy that comes with your job... but also remember that we're on the same team. The X-Men and SHIELD have worked together on a few projects. So if you ever need a helping hand with a little more oomph...you can count on me." She says this and then stands, dropping a $50 on the table. "Here. At least let me walk you out...if they're here then you can go on your merry and I'll go on mine. I do hope the next time we run into each other it can be for a simple social call." But in their lines of work? Likely not.
Clint Barton	Clint grabs a final fry before getting to his feet. It takes him a bit of time to do just that but he finally manages to get himself up. It's almost like when a football player gets hurt in the middle of a game so he's trying to do as much of this himself as possible. He does have time to go wide eyed at the bill that's dropped on the table. "Damn, woman." Clint offers a grin as he starts with the limping in the direction of the door. "Is the X-Men paying like that?" Clint nods back towards the table. "I'm gonna' need an application..." Oh Clint. Telling jokes to ease the physical pain. It's not helping.