Owner	Pose
Clint Barton	Skye was gone and she'd shot Barton on the way out. It was just an ICER round but still. Cold. Then of course Barton vanished and Fitz and Simmons who'd been looking after him called May. The rest came down to finding which bar, Barton had chosen to drown his sorrows in. For a spy, he was pretty predictable that way. In this case, it was Luke's and Clint could be found sitting at the bar, tumbler in hand and half a bottle of cheap whiskey on the bar beside him. It was easy to guess where the other half went.
Melinda May	Yes, Barton IS predictable that way, even if finding which bar took May a bit more time. She's not as up on the bar scene as she used to be. But finally, on her sixth stop, she finds the archer. And she can already tell she's likely going to have to pour him into his bed... though maybe it would be better to not take him back to the house he's been sharing with Skye. Annoying, but she'll deal with it. Stepping over to the bar, she picks a seat a couple down from Barton and asks for bourbon. Because while she'll knock a few back in solidarity, there is no way in hell she's touching the nasty rotgut Clint's got next to him.
Clint Barton	Given his level of inebriation it's impressive Clint notices May before she sits down. Though he does, catching her reflection in his currently empty glass. "Wondered who'd track me down. So, is this a social visit or are you dragging me back to the office?" he asks her before he wrinkles his nose at her choice of drink. "Snob," he says, with drunk good humour.
Melinda May	May takes a small sip of her bourbon, because she does have to drive later. She doesn't seem at all bothered by the snob comment, but then she almost never less anything visibly bother her. "I'm off duty," is her reply to his question about social visit or otherwise. "Fitzsimmons told me, but I'm sure I didn't get the whole story." Because Fitzsimmons. "I'm mostly here to be sure that I'm justified in hunting Skye down and making her pay."
Clint Barton	Some guardedness leaves Clint when May tells him she's off duty. "Good. I am not sure I want to go back right now." He reaches over to his bottle of rot gut and pours some into his glass. "She shot me, you know that?" he says looking over at her. "I was trying to talk to her, and she shot me." He takes a drink to help wash those words from his mouth. "Everyone knows that by now, I bet. Hey, look at Barton, dumb idiot, got duped by a girl and shot," he says before snorting a bitter laugh. "The worst part is, I can't even hate her. I /really/ want to, but I can't. How fucked up is that? I mean, I am still hoping this is all some big mistake. She shot me and stole from work but I still want to believe she's innocent." He looks over at May, "Pretty stupid, right?"
Melinda May	"Not really. She had a lot of people in SHIELD fooled, all the way up to and including Director Fury." As well as May herself. There WILL be a reckonint if she has anything to say about it. And she'd better. She takes another tiny sip of the bourbon and eyes that whiskey bottle, doing a bit of quick mental calculating.
Clint Barton	Clint looks over at May. Even drunk he knows better than to try and read her expression, but he still looks at her when he asks, "So, you believe it then? She could do this?" he asks. Beside himself, May had spent the most time with Skye at SHIELD, trained her to be the agent she was. He trusted her judgement at this point more than he trusted his own. "So?" he prods. Clearly he's not going to let this one lie.
Melinda May	:sets the nearly untouched bourbon aside and stands. "I'll believe it when she looks me square in the eyes and tells me to my face. And means it." And she can pretty well guess that whatever the hell is going on in Skye's head, she will likely want ANYTHING but to have to tell May to her face that she'd been playing them all the whole time. Even if it does turn out to be true. She's going to withhold judgement on that for the moment. But only for the moment. "Come on, Barton. Let's get out of here."
Clint Barton	Clint snorts when May lays out the conditions of her believing Skye. "Tried that," he says. "Make sure she doesn't have a gun." He rubs the place bruised place on his chest where the round hit. He downs the rest of his glass when May says they're going. He almost quips, 'hey, I'm spoken for' but stops short when he realized he wasn't. He just says, "Sure," in it's place, and drops some money on the bar for the both of them. "Where are we going?"
Melinda May	"Somewhere else." May doesn't elaborate, because either PickledBartonBrain will misconstrue it, or anyone else possibly overhearing will. Hell, they're likely misinterpreting the hell out of this already. But she's not about to reinforce the misunderstandings of a handful of mysogynist jerks if she can avoid it. Outside, May leads Clint to an extremely mundane looking little Honda that he might have seen around the motorpool on occasion. "Get in." Thankfully, her planned destination is close by. Maybe they'll make it there without him needing to throw up.
Clint Barton	Clint is pretty agreeable when he's drunk and locked up inside his head. "Sure thing," he says at the weak explanation of where they were going. Really, he didn't care as long as when his buzz died off there'd be more booze to drown out all this damn thinking. He pours himself into the Honda's passenger seat and so far doesn't seem like he needs to put his head between his knees and paint the floormats the colour of cheap booze puke. He fumbles the seatbelt on, "So, really, where are we going?" he asks.
Melinda May	"A safehouse nearby." May waits for the click of Barton's seatbelt and then they're off. Sure enough, barely ten minutes later they're pulling into the cramped driveway of a small house in the middle of one of those few remaining areas that have actual gaps between the single-family dwellings. Not exactly SHIELD's usual MO for safehouses, but it seems quiet and sedate enough. May leads him through to a door in the postage stamp back yard and then inside. The house itself, while tiny, has the not-really-lived-in feel that most safehouses usually have. And yet it's meticulously clean and has the occasional personal-seeming item that safehouses almost never have, like a potted ficus tree that is mere inches from brushing the ceiling.
Clint Barton	"Ah," Clint says before he rides along quetly, watching the world go by And totally not looking for Skye. Nope. When they reach the house, Clint follows May inside the safehouse. It didn't look like a safehouse, except for the clean and unused thing, the house was wrong and there were plants and stuff. "Sure this one being used by someone?" he asks nodding at the plant. "I was looking at plants online today, you got water them to keep them going." Which was hard to do at a barely used safehouse. "Don't ask why I was looking," he says. It had been for the place he'd shared with Skye.
Melinda May	"I pay the housekeeping staff a bit extra to keep the plants watered." She steps through to the tiny but well-planned kitchen then comes back with two glasses and an already opened bottle of Johnny Walker. Not top shelf, but better than the swill back at Luke's. "You feel like telling me what prompted Skye to use you for target practice?"
Clint Barton	Clint nods and sinks down on the couch when May returns like an angel of mercy with more booze. "Huh, nice plant though," he says of the ficus. Though when she asks her question Clint blinks as the moment plays out in his head again. "Basically, I cornered her with Coulson and there was a team from Strike rolling in, I tried to get her to stop, to talk to me, and then blam. She shot me and bolted."
Melinda May	May leaves the bottle and glasses with Clint and steps out of his direct line of sight to send a quick text to Stark: 'We need to talk ASAP.' along with the address of the house they're in. She might end up having to 'burn' the place later, and she'll really regret that, but needs must. "Why was there a Strike team rolling in? And what were you and Coulson doing cornering her in the first place? I could have told you that wouldn't end well."
Clint Barton	"I was fuzzy on the details, but apparently they thought Skye had disguised herself as Coulson," Clint says about the Strike team. "She hacked the comms or something, Fitz was very impressed. And Fury sent us after her, I would probably have gone anyway, but, figured better that we give her a chance than let some Strike yahoo take her down." He looks to the scotch offering to pour for the both of them.
Tony Stark	Tony got a message, from Agent May. She's in 'luck': he isn't buried in something else. Not only that, but was actually paying attention. So, the odds were in her favor. If that's indeed what attracting Tony ends up being, anyway. He eyes the message, and the address on it, to come out to meet. And diverts course. And so, May gets a response a reasonable few handfuls of minutes later from when she sent it. "Bet I know why. OMW." Tony isn't /magical/ to appear immediately, but he wasn't too far away. Parking at this hour is a bear, though, no spots. But someone else who was parking accepts a bribe to continue to search while Tony takes their spot with his insane sportscar. It isn't directly outside. That's subtle, right? Tony has to walk a block at least, bringing along his takeout box.
Melinda May	May leaves the scotch with Clint for the moment, setting the phone on the table and disappearing down the hall that presumably leads to the bath and bedrooms. She's back almost as quickly as she left, setting a bottle of aspirin on the coffee table by the phone. "She could have impersonated anyone. That she chose Coulson means she wanted this to be noticed immediately." And for once, May isn't sure twhat that means. Btt she sully intends to findout. When her phone lights up with a received text, she glances down at the screen but doesn't pick it up to send a reply back. Instead she paces toward the front door and unlocks it before returning yet again and perching on the arm of the sofa.
Clint Barton	Clint helps himself to the scotch when May leaves to go get the asprin. "Good plan," he says before he downs what he'd poured into the glass. "Wow. Hm. Way better than the stuff I was drinking," he usually went better than what he had at Luke's but he'd left his wallet at the Trisk and only bought what he did after hustling a couple patrons at darts. "Maybe?" he say of Skye wanting them to know she was leaving. "Or maybe she thought he was the bigger threat. I dunno. That's the problem, May, there's too much stuff we don't know." He picks up the scotch and gives it a look. "Maybe the answers are at the bottom," he remarks. "Either way, think I am going to find out." He pours himself another glass.
Tony Stark	There's a knock. In a particular rhythm -- a 'shave and a haircut' knock, and then Tony lets himself in, looking around the safehouse with a sort of casual curiosity. He closes the door neatly behind him. There's a flash of automatic smile at first as if Tony were going to say something terrible and snide. May is closest, but he can see past her to Clint, as well. He adapts what he was going to say, and says to May: "Reporting for duty. I assume it involves drinking."
Melinda May	"I can guarantee you the answers aren't. But go ahead and try." May won't let Clint poison himself. Too much. Then Tony lets himself in and by the way she doesn't immediately jump to defend the safehouse it's clear she was expecting him. "Partly. It also involves Skye." Who is conspicuously absent. She stands again and goes to lock the door behind Tony, and even does a passable job of pickpocketing him and getting his keys away as she goes.
Clint Barton	Clint recognizes that voice. "Stark?" he asks leaning across the coffee table to peer down the hallway. Yep, it's Tony. "What the heck are you doing here?" he asks. Though, yeah, if May's not kicking his ass, he was invited. As to the question about drinking? Clint answers, "Damn right It does!" he sinks back onto the couch his cup in his hand. "Both of you sit your asses down and join me. Otherwise people might think I've got a problem." The bottle of scotch is barely touched by the flush in Clint's cheeks and the reek of cheap booze on him, this is not his first bottle.
Tony Stark	Tony has a lot of weird shit in his various pockets today, for pickpocketers to find. She'll get keys, yes: but there's several different other tech objects of similar to handheld size, a receipt, a yellow stress squish ball, some loose cash and change, a package of some type of snack food (probably freeze dried fruit?), some severed connectors from cords... so she's fortunate she actually found keys. Then again, they were on top. Tony doesn't pick up on the pickpocketing, but he did sense her getting close. "Hey there," Tony says automatically, a bit of flirt autopilot when she brushes against him: surprised, actually. He was pretty sure May was a robot. His eyes follow her as she goes to the door but he returns to the Clint mission, heading over to claim a spot next to Clint. "Yeah, I was there," Tony supplies about Skye offhandedly. He was, apparently, at the Triskelion: but he's been there over the past handful of days with Fury working on something. Tony has now headed down the hallway to view Clint's damage level in 'dismay.' "'Heck', Barton? We're adults here, go for the gold," Tony suggests. As for sitting down? Tony picks up an empty glass and shakes it at Barton. "As if I'd just watch you drink," Tony admonishes. He pulls off his suit coat and tosses it aside, then puts down his takeout box on the table next to them, flipping it open. An army of foil-wrapped various chicken wings is in it.
Melinda May	And the role of responsible adult in tonight's play will be played by May. SHe hangs Tony's pilfered keys on a hook by the back door that she and Clint arrived through, makes a detour through the kitchen, then returns with plates and napkins. You know, in case Tony opts to share, though she's not planning on partaking. She's not really in a mindset conducive to food. "Stark, what are the chances of you being able to track down Skye's current whereabouts the next time she hacks into something?" She is one step shy of Luddite when it comes to actual hacking, and is thus willing to defer to someone who is clearly more knowledgeable.
Clint Barton	Clint looks up from where he sits on the couch and frowns, "Go for the gold? If you think I am going to start bawling in front of the both of you, you've got the wrong guy," he says with a shake of his head. "Besides, like I was telling May, too confused to know what the hell to feel anyhow." Though when Tony sits down to join him in drinking, all the acrimonious thoughts vanish and he says, "Good man," to Tony then fills his glass while Tony brings out the chicken. "May?" he asks wiggling the bottle at her. That question about tracking Skye gets a look thrown between the two of them. "Is that even possible?" he asks as he reaches for one of the chicken wings.
Tony Stark	Tony accepts his newly filled glass without pause, downing most of it, clearly intending to catch up. Drunk Clint will be fun to poke. Tony glances over at May when she asks about tracking Skye. "Piss-poor unless I know where she'd be hacking," Tony answers evenly. "I mean, can find Waldo in the crowd, but... sort of need to know which crowd. Besides, no way was that her alone." Tony looks at the plates May brings them as if amused. MORE amused by the napkins. But openly shares, he'll unroll the foil out without any semblance of being selfish about it. And start to eat, obviously hungry. "I'm consulting on the breach in SHIELD's systems. We'll see what I pick up -- that may help narrow where to look. MK was hooked in for the whole event and somebody tried to hack her, running a detailed analysis on her data. Could be something there."
Melinda May	At Tony's explanation of why tracking Skye might be difficult including the observation that she must have had help, May can only nod. She finally claims one of the side chairs, taking a moment to set her jacket aside and shed her boots before curling up in it and pulling the blanket draped over one arm to cover her lap. It's almost like she's done that before. "Wait. Who is MK?" That's not a name May knows, and it makes her immediately suspicious.
Clint Barton	"Help?" Clint asks around a mouthful of chicken wing. "Like there was someone else in SHIELD's systems?" he asks Tony with a furrowed brow. "Was there anything to tell you who? Skye mentioned there was another hacker, IcedLotus, almost as good as Skye but working or Hydra, maybe she made her do it, you know blackmail or something?" he says latching onto the idea like a drowning man might cling to some floating wreckage. "That makes sense right?" There's a nod, "And yeah, who's MK?"
Tony Stark	"Definitely somebody else. Actively meddling." Tony is distracted by the MK questions. "MK is a processing drone. Mark twelve... I think. She might be an eleven," Tony squints a little bit, and fishes out a thing that looks similar to a phone but probably isn't, looking at it and tapping through a few screens, quick swipes, one-handed. The other is busy with chicken. "Yep. Twelve." As if it's important. Tony takes a bit of a note from May's comfort level, wiping the sauce on his left hand off on the provided napkin-- and unbuttons the top few buttons on his collared shirt, and rolls up the sleeves neatly to mid-forearm, relaxing. Most notably, this does make some of the light that the arc reactor in his chest show a little bit, through undershirt. Clint's aware of it no doubt, but May, no. "If it's blackmail, what leverage?" Tony questions Clint.
Melinda May	"A processing drone." In May's mind, a drone is one of those miniature flight-capable sensor arrays. So now she's trying to picture one of those things buzzing around the Triskelion with its own security badge. It's ... a distracting mental image. "Why did you have a processing drone with you in the Triskelion?" Maybe there are more important questions, but that's the one that sticks for the moment. That, and her eyes have caught the hint of light coming OUT from under Tony's shirt. Stark should take it as a compliment that she only stares and doesn't visibly reach for a weapon.
Clint Barton	Clint snots, "What's Tony not brought to the office lately?" Clint asks May when she brings up the drone. "He's been around so much I think Pepper's banned him from the office." Tony's reactor, yeah, Clint's seen it, and he blows past May's reaction when Tony's question about the leverage gets his gears turning. "What leverage?" Clint asks, the question gives his drunk brain pause. "She did a lot of shady shit when she was working with the Rising Tide, maybe she went too far one time and Lotus knows about it. Or, it could be a threat, like maybe Lotus has put a virus in medical or air traffic systems and is going to press the go button if Skye doesn't help her? C'mon I may be pulling this stuff out of my ass, but we've seen weirder shit, right?" he looks between the two for confirmation.
Tony Stark	"I feel like I'm in interrogation. I thought I was here to drink with my buddy here. Because ... Well. I guess I'm fine with it, since there ARE drinks, but," Tony admits, refilling his own glass and Clint's as well, helpfully, continuing to eat the wings and do what he can to at least keep up with Clint's current consumption rate. "I had two with me. I brought them to run analysis for updates to the ODYSSEY and the other helicarriers," Tony supplies; Tony likes to talk. "Hey-- Pepper and I are on /great/ terms right now, I'm in the opposite of trouble," Tony says, which might actually suggest a bit of 'something' there. He waggles a bit of a bone from a wing at May, "Unsure you should be asking me all this, instead of your Director, though?" Tony teases. "My badge has operations access and everything." Well, sort of. He was rather babysat! "Think she'd act if YOU were threatened?" Tony asks Clint in thoughtful interest, but doesn't appear to be judging (yet).
Melinda May	Well, okay. Stark has a point there. And May DOES fully intend to corner Fury and talk to him about this whole mess. But for now, there's chaperoning to be done. And she's still wondering about that light. But, she'll let it slide for the moment, as Clint seems completely unperturbed. "Fine. I'll talk to Fury." As if that settles the matter for her for the time being, she doesn't seem to have any other questions at the moment, settling into her chosen chair just that tiny amount more.
Clint Barton	Clint grunts thanks when his glass is filled and he reaches for a chicken wing. "You and Pepper are good, huh? How good?" he asks catching that hint of implication in Tony's words as he settles back in his spot on the couch. "And May, just ask him about the chest thing already," Clint adds to the other agent before digging into his wing. He's barely swallowed that bite before he answers. "Hm, good catch, because hell yeah she would do that if she thought I was in danger. Or at least I want to think so. It makes sense right?"
Tony Stark	"She cooked," Tony says simply, as if that were a big thing, with a raise of both eyebrows at Clint, and taking a big bite of chicken. They've got a little pile of bones going now. "That one was mostly sauce," Tony says in dismay. He's had some drinks now, which amplifies his already awesome personality. "So, how much danger ARE you in?" Tony asks Clint, eying him critically. The 'chest thing' gets a bit of bemused smirk; he doesn't volunteer anything.
Melinda May	If the three of them, May is proabaly in the best position to understand the implications of 'she cooked'. Because for career women, taking the time out to do something unaccustomed, it truly has //implications//. But, she leaves it for the men to try and figure out. She doubts they'll manage it. And then, yes, she'll ask about the chest thing. "Stark, you hiding a tablet in your shirt, or are you just happy to see us?"
Clint Barton	"Cooked? No shit?" Clint says with a smile for Tony, he raises a fist for the other Avenger to bump. The booze may have amplified Clint's personality too, poor May. Besides, Clint was glad of the distraction of thinking of someone else's relationship for a change. Though the question about danger brings him right back to his own predicament. "I mean Lotus worked for Hydra, so I guess that depends on how badly they want to hurt me or need Skye," Clint says before his back stiffens and he pales. "They'd need her for more than getting the data right?" he asks.
Tony Stark	Tony Stark grins and accepts the fist-bump. "I would not shit you about food. Burgers, even," Tony says, with a tone of honest disbelief and pleasure. Oh, the chest thing. "What, did I flash you? Didn't mean to," Tony jokes. "I'm a special model of shitty Cyborg," Tony supplies with a laugh, drawing one hand to tap on the surface of the reactor through his shirt. It makes a few little hollow sounds when he does that, although if it's imbedded in him or just worn under his shirt, hard to tell, what with so much of what Tony says being bullshit. "If the power goes out, we can still charge our phones," Tony comments. And then, "Also, I like being alive. Suits me." There's the truth, possibly only due to the drinks. There's a weird undertone to it, an odd loss. And his current glass is downed in one go, Tony sets about refills.
Melinda May	May hms faintly. She's still learning how to read past Tony's flash and pizzazz public persona, but she can guess that there's more to the story there than she's likely to get, even with the world's oldest truth serum already in place. As Clint meanders through the potential logic of his being the reason that Skye defected, she can only watch. She doesn't care for speculation but she won't shut anyone else down for doing so off the books, as it were. And really, it's already been considered. That's why she tracked him to Luke's and dragged him away from there to pickle himself here.
Clint Barton	Clint even blows up the fist when Tony accepts the bump. Yep, looks like he and Tony are buzzed and know what a big deal Pepper cooking is. "Burgers huh?" he says with a smile. "Good stuff, hold onto her man. Seriously. Don't be you and fuck it up." Speaking of fucked up, Clint takes remembers his glass and takes a big gulp of the scotch before he says, "Yeah, that thing, it keeps him alive. And makes Tony useful on road trips," he says building on the phone charging joke Tony had already made on the way back to what was really on his mind. "But seriously, guys, am I crazy here? If it's Hydra blackmailing Skye and she's given them what they want, she could be dead right now. Or soon, we need to go find her." He tries to pick himself up off the couch but only gets half way before his legs go wobbly and he spills himself and the scotch in his hand on the couch, thankfully, not the part Tony was on. Unperturbed, Clint tries to get to his feet again.
Tony Stark	"Useful in addition to my ability to form the best soundtracks for the trip," Tony reminds Clint. Definitely don't forget the music. Tony moves to help Clint --- well, no, to try to save the liquor in his glass. So Tony got a bit splashed on the wrist and forearm by it. Tony has, apparently, pretty damn good reflexes despite being buzzed. "Not sure she's walking the street just outside. Pretty sure that's about as far as we'd get right now. And you are not going to vomit in my car," Tony adds, sinking back into the couch. He slides a brief little look across to May. Tony isn't necessarily directly hindering, but he's aware of the purpose of the evening. They're keeping Clint here.
Melinda May	The moment Clint tries to get to his feet and wobbles, May is standing. She plucks the glass out of his hand and lets Tony claim it before reaching to help him try to stand again, and makes a mental note to leave an extra tip to the housekeeping services when they end up having to clean the stain from that spill later. "Where are you headed, Clint?" she asks perhaps a bit more gently that either man would have expected. And yes, her plan was to keep the archer here until he'd slept off this bender to her satisfaction. Not his. Hers.
Clint Barton	Clint manages to get all the way to his feet this time before he stands there teetering like a tree about to fall. "Out there," he says waving in the direction of the door. "Got to find her," he says and then he turns, wobbling as he does, "And why aren't you guys worried?!" he snaps. "Didn't you hear what I said? She could be dead right now." Grim and unlikely as his scenario was, it was the only one he could conjure that didn't make Skye the villain.
Tony Stark	Tony ... bar-tends. More liquor in the glasses. Sadness over the lessening pile of wings. He's frowning at nothing in particular, or something in his own head, maybe. "We should find out what's what," Tony votes. "Somebody /knows/," Tony adds, with his own drinking-logic, and a grin that is a little dark.
Melinda May	"No, Clint, you don't. I can promise you she's perfectly fine right now. The amount of intel she has on SHIELD makes her way too valuable to just toss aside like a used paper plate. And if they are using you against her as leverage to keep her working for them, then wandering out there right now only puts her at //more// risk." At this point she tries to gently steer and push Barton into sitting back down on the sofa. "So the best thing you can do right now is sit here, help Tony finish those wings, and not jump to conclusions. Got it?"
Clint Barton	Clint nods to Tony. "Yeah, we do," he agrees. "We need to talk to Fury." Though the idea of the two of them, drunk, going to talk to the Director is likely not going to be too productive. May's words seem to get through. "Right. If I go out, they can get me." He frowns, glancing towards the backdoor for a long moment, before he turns away. "And Fury, he'll have teams out looking right?" He seems to come to his own conclusions about it and sinks back down to the couch, unaware or uncaring he's sitting in a puddle of spilled scotch. "Should probably eat something, soak up the booze," he says reaching for the chicken. "Can help if I'm sober." Though by the look of him, he'll be passed out before him 'helping' becomes an issue. "So she made you burgers, huh?" Clint asks Tony.
Tony Stark	Tony pushes Clint's drink back over at him. Not with any particular intention, other than that it's Clint's. Tony's not terribly aware right now anymore. May has her work cut out for her if Tony starts getting 'ideas' like Clint. For now he's been pretty easygoing though. "Yep. She wants a date after the surgery." So much is wonky with that sentence, but Tony's not paying much attention. He suddenly gets up, and looks around slowly as if hunting something... ah, there. He wanders to the bathroom without saying anything about it.
Melinda May	May lets Tony wander off to the bathroom, mentally noting that his motor coordination is far less affected than Clint's. And speaking of, it's likely time for all of them to get some sleep. To that end, she snags the now much closer to empty bottle of scotch and takes it back to its hiding place in the kitchen and moves to get glasses of water for the men. She's giving Clint a chance to get some more food into him before shuffling him off to sleep. She knows he's going to feel this tomorrow, and nothing will be visibly better. But, it's called a coping mechanism for a reason.