Owner	Pose
Melinda May	May has always made a point of going to Gotham by herself. However, this time it's not to compare notes with the locals. It's to check up on the story that Natchios is working on a community center in the city. And, since he's been complaining of cabin fever, May told Clint almost verbatim, 'get in the car, we're going to Gotham'. The drive from Manhattan gave them more than enough time to plan what they needed to learn as well as to discuss any other recent events that are likely best not discussed anywhere near SHIELD. May even made a point of renting a civilian car for this road trip. The chocolate-colored Fiat 124 Spider pulls to a stop in a parking garage within easy walking distance of the community center in question and May looks at Barton. "Ready?"
Clint Barton	Clint hadn't questioned it when he was told to jump into the car they were going to Gotham. He hadn't needed to ask why after the talk with Elektra the night before and by the time they arrived, he had been fully briefed on what May had discovered about Ms. Natchios and her project. "Sure thing," Clint says getting out of the car. Since they're poking around semi-officially, he made himself shower, and made an effort to shave off his stubble, leaving the odd patch here and there to sell he wasn't quite back to himself yet. He wore shades to hide the dark circles that were still carved under his eyes. He was playing the part of the wronged and drunken ex, pretty well, but he was still a long way off the sort of actors that Alfred was used to dealing with. The performance has holes.
Alfred Pennyworth	It's not more then a few moments after their car comes to a stop that footsteps echo from near by. There slow, methodical, each one carefully calculated as the cause makes his way into view seemingly stepping right from the shadows. It's a familiar face for at least one of the two.      Alfred is dressed to the nines with a long coat covering his form buttoned up over his suit and an equally extravagant hat to keep the cold from nipping at his head. Each hand is hidden behind a deep blue glove to match his almost suede coat.      His attention isn't on either of the two, but on the stairwell to the far side of the garage. His walk is one of confidence with a real drive to his actions.
Melinda May	May's just locking up the rental when she hears the footsteps and looks over at Barton. Show time just a little sooner than planned. She pockets the keys and starts toward the nearby stairwell also, her own footsteps nearly silent as she listens to the other footfalls and tries to identify anything she can about them. Leather soles, likely well-made shoes. Someone at least moderately well off. Gait is very consistent, no indication of any sort of limp. She steps past the end of the row of cars and ... stops. And stares at the primly dressed older gentleman. Again? Seriously?
Clint Barton	Clint hears Alfred coming and makes himself ready as well, putting on an easy smile and looking like he hadn't heard a thing. That act he pulls off better than drunk. He keeps his hands in his pockets and follows along with May until they see Alfred. Really, not what Clint was expecting, though he does give the old guy a once over. "So, guessing you two know each other?" he asks the pair of them.
Alfred Pennyworth	Alfred comes to a stop, eyes shifting from the stairwell to Agent May. His expression shifts from neutral to a slight smirk, visibly pleased with the turn of events. He remains standing right on the spot, attention shifting to Clint, as he speaks up in a refined British accent, with a hint of Scottish. "You could say that, though last time we met it was down the barrel of a gun I do believe."      He's in great shape for his age, Alfred, standing with confidence as he speaks. Each word oozes charisma and a bit of that dry British wit. "The names Pennyworth, Alfred Pennyworth" He adds tipping his hat to the gentlemen before him.
Melinda May	"An ICER," May offers as if to correct the older gentleman's statement. "Wasn't expecting to see you again, Mr. Pennyworth. We were just heading to that new community center. Heard about it, now I'm curious." Which is actually true, for some highly edited version of the truth. "This is a friend of mine, Clint." She glances at the archer as she introduces him to Alfred, the glance hopefully conveying without words to watch this gentleman.
Clint Barton	Even money if Clint is recognizable as the Avenger, Hawkeye. He smiles though at the talk of meeting at the end of a gun. "Hey," he greets to Alfred with a little wave. "And May, good to see you're keeping up good public relations with the people of Gotham."
Alfred Pennyworth	"An absolute pleasure, Clint." Alfred offers politely, as he replaces his hat. If he does recognize the avenger he's not letting it on in his body language or his voice. However he does walk a bit closer now that it's somewhat clear he's not about to have another gun shoved into his face, a confident stride.      "Well now isn't that the coincidence." He adds while walking, attention shifting to May. "I would suppose that makes three of us then." His voice rather deadpan as he points out his own logic. A quick motion of the hand is made towards the door. "That being the case we may as well walk there together."
Melinda May	Not really seeing any other option, May turns to continue walking toward the stairwell, her footsteps still near-silent. She's not at all a fan of parking garages. Not defensible enough. Too many sightlines. Oddly, though (to Clint at least), her usual wariness doesn't seem to extend to Alfred. As if she's already made her personal mental assessment of the man and he's either an ally or so not a threat as to be completely inconsequential. Still, she hopes that Clint's on the alert around this man. For several reasons.
Clint Barton	Clint can read the subtle cues of May's body language and what they said about Alfred. If she wasn't looking for danger from his direction it did speak well of the man. "So, what do I call you? Alfred, Mr. Pennyworth?" he asks the man, letting him go ahead of him on the garage stairs. "And when did the two of you meet?" he asks. "Sounds like a fun story," he says with a bit of a grin on his face. Taking up the rear, he does toss a glance over his shoulder to size up what, if anything might be following them.
Alfred Pennyworth	Alfred begins to make his way along with ease following right along. He tilts his head slightly to one side looking back towards Clint as he offers a reply. "I've not a preference," He pauses for a moment. "If you felt so inclined I'd even be fine with double oh seven." Spoken in a somewhat joking manner as he makes for the door.      There doesn't seem to be anyone following at a glance as the group walks through the garage. Everything is rather quiet here save for the occasional distant sound of a cars engine roaring to life, or puttering into silence.      "I suppose it could be an interesting story, you're correct." Alfred chimes as he reaches out for the handle of the door to the stairwell, doing the polite thing and swinging it open. "Even moreso if I fudge the details a good deal."
Melinda May	May nods to Alfred slightly as he holds the door open, stepping through into the stairwall proper and waiting on the landing for the two men to step through as well. "Last week. And let's just say that Camp Lehigh wasn't as abandoned as I expected it to be." Alfred can choose to embellish that all he wants, but she's pretty sure that as a former carnie and trained bullshit artist he'll be able to tell what's simple truth and what's been embellished. Her eyes quickly scan the stairwell, both up and down from their landing. Again, force of habit. She's not truly expecting anything to happen.
Clint Barton	When given a blank check when it came to what he called Alfred, Clint's mind went immediately to Alfie, but when he's offered 007 as an alternative, he grins widely. "Sure, thing double-oh seven," he says. When it comes to the story of Alfred and May's last meeting though, quirks his lips a little, questioningly. "LeHigh? The place where they trained Cap?" he asks the two of them.
Alfred Pennyworth	Alfred smiles for a moment at Clints comment before making his way down the stairs quickly and quietly. When he wants to he can make his own footsteps all but completely silent. After all it's all in how you set down your feet when walking, something that anyone can be trained to do given enough time.      "It is quite the ghost town most days however." Alfred counters as he looks down the center of the winding staircase to check and see if anything awaits them at the bottom of it all. "A wonderful place to go when one wishes to do some writing."
Melinda May	Once they're all in the stairwell, May leads the way down with still near-silent footsteps. She looks at Barton, fully expecting him to be directly following her, and that also says something that she's willing to let Pennyworth cover their 6. The stairs down to street level are, of course, completely uneventful unless one counts stray debris in the corner of one landing. Stepping out onto the main sidewalk outside of the parking garage, she looks at the two men and is probably expecting Alfred to lead the way to the community center. He's the Gothamite of the trio, after all.
Clint Barton	Clint lingers up at the top of the stairs a second or two before heading down after the others just to make sure someone else doesn't come up behind them and then follows down the stairs after the others. "So, what's the plan exactly? Are we just asking questions or are we going to get all ninja about things?" he asks the others.
Alfred Pennyworth	Alfred of course does take the lead his own footsteps now almost completely silent as he moves his way into the street. The man barely even flinches as a car comes around the corner just inches from sideswiping him before speeding off down the road. The only reaction it receives is a raised eyebrow and a somewhat perturbed expression.      It's a fine day, for Gotham standards anyway. The smog hangs high in the clouds, the sun peaks out from behind them to shimmer off the mountainous spires of brick and steel. Cars roll past at blistering speeds with little care for the pedestrians crossing from one side to the other.      "Oh I was thinking we should break in from the second floor window then take a hostage or two." Alfred speaks while adjusting his tie. "Perhaps gun down a few civilians, start a firefight with the police, then blow the building as we evac via helicopter with our misbegotten gains." He pauses for a second having just spoken in a deadpan voice. "Or we could use the front door." Turning his head to look back to Clint. "But where's the fun in that?"
Melinda May	May is fully aware of the speeding cars, but unless one of them swerves their way, she's not going to visibly acknowledge them in any way. Instead, she looks at both men flatly in a way that Barton is likely only too familiar with. Then without commenting she turns and heads for the nearest crosswalk so that if someone choose to try and run her down, she'll be justified in proverbially ripping the steering wheel out of their car. And she waits for the traffic lights to change, and for the males to catch up after they finish their measuring contest over there.
Clint Barton	Clint snorts at Alfred's response, clearly impressed with the snark he gets thrown his way. "I dunno, the other way sounded more fun," he says as he waits a few feet back from the street to avoid the vehicular madmen. "Yeah, really glad I don't come to Gotham much," he says looking around. When the light changes he crosses the street, pausing only once, as a drive runs the light to get where he's going. On the other side Clint heads to the Community Centre doors and opens one for the others. "After you."
Alfred Pennyworth	The other two may have the right idea of using the crosswalk, but being wrong never stopped Alfred in the past. He carries on across the street making his way to the front doors where he waits for the other two. "Why thank you Mr.Barton" Before heading in through the open doors and into community center with a sense of purpose.
Melinda May	May follows Alfred through the door and stops abruptly as the interior of the building is very clearly still under construction. Her eyes take in everything around them as she sidesteps to give Clint room to step inside as well. For some reason she'd had it in her head that the place was already completed. Where the heck did she get THAT notion?
Elektra Natchios	The place is, as one might expect a construction site to be, something of a mess. Mud and scaffolding all over. Plastic sheeting covering windows and creating protective barriers for sensitive equipment and creating windbreaks. It looks, however, like the bulk of the outside work is done but for some of finishing touches (like balconies and windows), and the cosmetics like fascia and signage. Signs everwhere proclaim this a hard-hat zone, pictures showing hats and boots abound everywhere, and as the trio step inside, they're given looks by a couple of workers who shrug and move along with ladders and paint and the like. One drops a can that is only half-closed and starts cursing in Italian, his partner returns a few choice words his way, and mutters, "Ah throw a fucking sheet on it or leave it," of the pool of paint left behind. "Not our problem. That's flooring. We're walls." To which his friend stops his cursing and laughs, seeing the point, and grabs up the can, shoves the lid back on and they carry along, heading out of sight. Someone who looks more official spots them and heads over, "Hey. You! You can't be in here without boots and heads. Buncha morons? Don'tcha read signs?" And he's about to say more when a woman steps from one of the rooms on the main floor that is mostly 'done' and asks, "What's the fuss Martelli?"
Clint Barton	Clint peeks in through the doors to see the construction beyond. "Heh," he remarks but whatever following quip is lost in the yelling of one of the construction workers. Clint steps through the door hands raised, "Hey, relax buddy, we're just here to see-" Then the woman steps out and Clint points. "Her." He gives the woman a wave.
Alfred Pennyworth	Alfred calmly walks into the building proper, one hand adjusting his tie while another reaches into his pocket pulling out what looks to be a piece of paper. He unfolds the paper several times before its shape becomes clear... a hardhat with the Wayne Enterprises logo across the front. A light tapping of his fingers on the top of it sends out a quiet thunk of knuckles hitting plastic before he places the hardhat onto his head.      Of course it was only a prototype, but there were certainly perks to working under the owner of the corporation. One of those was occasionally being able to test out the new toys, like the easy storage Hard-hat. The science was still out on if it would actually be quite so effective as a more traditional hardhat but what was life without risk?      Alfred skips barely a beat as he offers a warm smile to the woman, taking a few steps further into the construction. "Miss Natchios." His expression warm and friendly as he moves further still inward. "I'm so glad to see progress is being made on schedule." He pauses for a second. "I'm not sure if you remember me, Alfred Pennyworth, I'm Mr.Waynes butler, he asked me to check in on things here."      With a seconds thought he reaches into his pocket pulling out two more slips of what look to be yellow paper with the Wayne Enterprises logo on the front. One is handed first to Clint who is closer to Alfred, the second agent May. It's an afterthought more then anything to appease the workers.
Melinda May	May raises an eyebrow at Alfred's origami hardhat. Userful thing, there. And then he hands her one as well, and it takes her only a moment to figure out how to get it to go from a flat object to a hardhat-shaped object. It's also handy that both men have already pegged Elektra's presence, and she looks toward the younger woman as well as she settles the yellow hardhat on her head. Stare battle, round two. Begin.
Elektra Natchios	Elektra sports a hardhard. But not the boots. Though she has given a nod to sensible shoes. "Ah," she murmurs when she recognizes two of the trio. "I wondered how long it would take you. If you give me a moment.." She turns away, and mutters into the room she's just left, "I trust we've all decided to be on the same page gentlemen? I will be very angry if I have to come back and have this same discussion with you all again. At the very least try to make it interesting for me next time." There are some unparsable mutters in the room beyond, to which she nods. "Very well. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have guests. Please inform your crews we will have visitors for the next hour or so and I expect them to be treated as though they were signing their paycheques." The implication being that /she/ was signing theirs. Momentarily, the door closed behind her, she walks over to the trio. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? And I'm afraid we haven't met." This last to Alfred.
Clint Barton	Clint takes the hardhat paper and gives it a shake, giving the end result an 'oh wow' sort of look before he puts it on his head. He's definitely taking this back to the office for Fitz if he can. A nod of greeting is given to Elektra before Clint steps back and leans against a beam as he eyes the construction idly. Watching how the building is coming together.
Alfred Pennyworth	"Well we've never been formally introduced at any rate." Alfred concurs as he takes a look about at the construction going on all around. "I trust things haven't given you too much trouble during the building process?" Asked with a genuine curiosity as his eyes fall back on Elektra.      Yet his attention drifts to Clint. "If you want one to keep, you'll have to speak with Wayne Enterprises R&D, I expect both of those returned to me on our way out." Not really asking politely or even requesting more then stating a fact.
Melinda May	"Ms. Natchios. We thought we'd drop by and see how the community center is going." She looks from the woman to Alfred, then offers introductions. It seems odd, but fine. Whatever. "Ms. Natchios, this is Alfred Pennyworth, a recent Gotham local acquaintance. Mr. Pennyworth, Elektra Natchios, in charge of this community center." Or what will become such, apparently. Her eyes can't help but flick over toward where the paint was spilled, and there's a brief moment where she wonders when someone's going to get chewed out for that. She'd have already done so herself, but it really isn't her place.
Elektra Natchios	"Ah, Mr. Pennyworth," Elektra gives him a calm look as she extends her hand. "Much better than merely 'the butler' don't you think?" She smiles as she waits for her answer, adding "We've had a few setbacks. But the project is ahead of schedule overall. It was originally slated for a summer open. I'm assured we're all on track for within the next two weeks. That, or I'm paying entirely too much money for what's being done. Please reassure Mr. Wayne." Nodding to May before correcting gently, "Well, only nominally in charge. What I am is the legal and monetary backing of the build and future prospects of the Community Centre. It's actual running is in the capable hands of the Wayne Foundation for the moment while we find it fulltime staffing." Clint's fascination with the hardhat is noted with some small amusement. "I'd offer, but you already seem to have better than I could provide. But," she turns to all three again, "Now that you're here, how might I help you?"
Clint Barton	Clint catches that amused smile and offers a brief 'what can you do?' shrug in return as he says, "Quite alright," he says as he settles the hat more firmly in place as he steps away from the pillar. "Me? I am just here for the sights, but my friends I am sure have all sorts of important and intelligent questions," he says with a smile.
Alfred Pennyworth	Alfred extends his own gloved hand to meet with Elektra's. A firm grasp is given as he gives a hearty handshake out of respect for the woman before him. "Between you and I, I'm actually a highly trained assassin, sent from the future by a corrupt global government, who places metahumans inside of re-education camps and runs the world with an iron fist." His own knowledge on her from the batcomputer tells him all he needs to know for dealing with the situation at hand. "You see your grandson actually grows up to become the leader of a resistance group facing off against the government, and they've sent me to make sure he's never born so they can complete their global conquest." Spoken completely deadpan, before he finally offers a smirk.      "Excellent news Ms.Natchios, I'm certain Master Bruce will be very pleased to hear things are running ahead of schedule." He takes back his hand with a warm smile, and a nod of his head. "I'm sure the board of directors will be just as pleased when news reaches them."
Melinda May	May turns to look at Alfred and just stares at him for that diatribe. Seriously? Well, she supposes that's one way to make people dismiss someone as any kind of credible threat -- be so blatantly obvious that they'll pshaw at any assertions that even a portion of that might actually be true. She'd certainly write Pennyworth off as a kooky old man if she'd not seen his reaction time for herself. She's no more willing to test his skills than she would Rogers'. But, back to the matter at hand. "I mostly wanted to see what the place is like before I even hint at Lewis that I might not disapprove of her pitching in to help here."
Elektra Natchios	Elektra's handshake is firm, polite, and lasts only a shade longer than rightly necessary - certainly longer than most women would, and certainly with the air of one used to holding authority in rooms of those also used to holding authority. "Well, we all have to have something to look forward to, don't we?" she murmurs to Alfred. "Though we'll have to see if I remember this conversation should the matter of children ever come up in my future and whether I still find it amusing enough to name a child John." There's amusement in her voice as she carries on his joke, though it doesn't reach her eyes, "Of course this all means I'll have to limit my search for true love to men with the surname Connor." Her head is inclined. "You may tell Mr. Wayne not to worry. And that I've narrowed the search on that bottle we discussed. He'll remember the conversation." With ease she turns her attention to May, "Ah yes. I seem to recall the suggestion of bodily harm to myself should I upset her. Don't let me stop you from looking around. I'm sure you'll find that everything here is as I've told you. Totally above board." Like other aspects of her life. Clint merely gets a small chuckle. "If only your name was Connor."
Clint Barton	Clint gives Alfred an amused look when he rattles off his story in deadpan. "Huh, going to need to pick up one of your books sometime," he says to the old man with a grin. "The place looks good," he says to Elektra which was also meant for May to say that he hadn't seen anything that immediately stood out as off about the place. The Conner remark earns a slight smirk from Clint as he pushes past his first instinct to tag onto the end of Elektra's comment with 'and spoken for' but he catches himself and settles for a faux wistful sigh before replying, "If only."
Alfred Pennyworth	Alfred can't help but smile at the fact she's playing along. It really does a joke good when people play along. At the mention of a bottle Alfred nods his head briefly. "I'll make absolutely certain that word reaches him soon as I leave." He pauses. "You can count on that." He reassures, before placing a gloved hand back into the pocket of his jacket.      Then his attention falls back to Clint. "You really should, I've published almost forty books over the years, I'd recommend starting with From Germany With Love." He walks over towards the spot on the floor his footsteps making a normal amount of sound as he avoids trying to silence himself. "It's one of my earlier works, but I find it's an excellent place to start."
Melinda May	"So far, yes, everything seems aboveboard, if a bit pending construction. I for some reason thought the building itself was complete." At least May's admitting to that fail on her part. "I take it you would have an office location of some sort for Ms. Lewis to work out of in the meantime?" Because while the junior Agent seems to understand the purpose of safety equipment when it comes to roller derby, she seems to forget about it in every other aspect of existence. Her eyes briefly follow Alfred as he meanders toward the spilled paint.
Elektra Natchios	Elektra merely gives May one of those looks that is almost pained, "I'd hardly ask her to come here to work. I don't need someone to oversee the building. I need someone with exceptional administerial skills to help organize the more particular business ends of the matter. Such as intake and assigning units to deserving families. Setting up the community access system. And ultimately, shoudl it remain the same person, overseeing the administration of the scholarship program. I wasn't suggesting Ms. Lewis relieve herself of her current job, merely suggesting a way for her to be more comfortable withe the largesse I inadvertantly embarassed her with." She adds with ease, "I would pay her for her time, of course."
Clint Barton	When the talk turns to business Clint steps back to lean against the pillar again. Though Alfred's recommendation has him pulling out his phone to see if he can pick up the e-book on Amazon. "Thanks," he says with a grin.
Alfred Pennyworth	Reaching into his pocket Alfred pulls out a small cloth. He kneels down beside the spilled paint and lifts up the covering before beginning to wipe it up off the ground. Looking back over towards Clint he adds. "You can use the code Broken shield at checkout for a twentyfive percent discount." Looking down to the ground he double checks the cloth for a moment before returning to cleaning. "Capital b, capital shield all one word it should work on all my books."
Melinda May	Okay, that explanation works for May. She nods to Elektra. "That's acceptable to me." She glances over at Alfred again, then comments, "I don't think you're going to be able to clean up all of that spilled paint."