I'll follow behind you on rainbow road

[paragon]

Who: CAPTAIN AMERICA WANTS YOU
Where: The Baromanogerneson Residence (i.e., 5031)
When: May 9th
What: Mario Kart and subversion, two great tastes that taste great together.
Warnings: Please warn in subjects as needed!
[Open]

The thought had formed pretty much as soon as he'd opened the box that was left on the front porch. The people here need a way to talk. There are two rooms in the house where they would be free to do so. He'd come home one day — not long after the body had disappeared from the upstairs bathroom and all the cameras he'd ripped from their wiring between there and the garage had been put back in place in their absence with a friendly maintenance note left behind that all fixtures in need of repair had been seen to, along with a bill for the expenses — to find Natasha sitting on the bed, writing a note in Sharpie. He'd leaned against the door frame and watched her hold it up to the cameras and make a deal: Steve wouldn't break any more cameras, if they give them the privacy of their bedrooms. As there had only been the three of them at the time (despite the insistence in his head that the house has always been filled by his teammates, just as he remembers of the last few years before Wayward Pines), that had meant the master bedroom downstairs, and Bucky's upstairs.

It had actually worked, though Steve wouldn't have trusted the word of whoever's behind the cameras himself if it weren't for Natasha's daily inspections, and so far the deal's held.

But it's not — can't be — a luxury only afforded to them, for their own sakes. He's told others here and there, and he knows his friends have, too. It's not enough, but nor does he have a way to get people over without arousing suspicion. But then there's the Nintendo system. A little unorthodox, as far as his own methods go, but he'll work with anything he has.

He doesn't put it down anywhere in writing, letting news of the party travel by word of mouth and hoping that's enough to keep it out of the wrong ears. At least for now. There's a chance — a good chance — that it will eventually get the Sheriff's attention, but by then it will have had the effect it's supposed to and given the people here the chance to speak to each other truthfully. And if that comes down on anyone, it's gonna be the people prepared to deal with it.

The day of the ninth is a rainy one, a good day to stay inside and play games with friends. It also provides a good excuse to use the master bedroom just off the end of the foyer as a temporary coat room. Straight ahead in the living room, Mario Kart is all ready to go, and in the kitchen next to that, snack food and drinks are available.

((ooc: THIS IS A MINGLE POST. While I will be tagging around with Steve a bit, this is mostly to give people a chance to chat with each other without the cameras watching. Per Natasha's deal with the powers that be, the cameras in the master bedroom and Bucky's room upstairs have been removed. Natasha will be greeting people at the door and taking them on a "tour" (i.e., to the master bedroom to explain the camera situation, why the party's really happening, and that they are not to discuss the lack of cameras while elsewhere in the house). Feel free to wander in there any time for a chat, or simply enjoy some Mario Kart and refreshments! Commenting around is encouraged, and please note in your top-levels whether they're open or closed. If you have any questions for me I can be found on plurk (jeeps) or discord (jeeps#9644).))

Comments

Clint Barton | Open

[arcum]

[ He's getting used to living in a full house. Somehow though it just feels like this fits. The people. The chaos. Though what feels new and strange is watching Steve stare at Natasha sometimes like she's a Turducken. It's off putting and he's decided that somehow the relationship is more than little bit gross. But at least there's Sam and sometimes Bucky. Though sometimes he wonders if Bucky is auditioning for Nirvana. But this is just home he's decided. With his increasingly strange friendships and his room with no door. Which he needs to start work on soon.

Answers are the reason they're here. Answers and some sort of real talk that can occur in the room that Clint still doesn't want to go into. No matter how much you can talk in there without being seen. He does not want to cram himself into Natasha's sex den to have a chat with some strangers about the truth. He would rather take a flying leap off the roof.

Surprisingly he's good at this. It's all about hand eye coordination which Clint has in spades. There's a reason he gets hole in ones in golf or he always hits the bullseye in darts. Video games just take a little more concentration which he absolutely no problem doing. Another thing he doesn't have a problem doing? Stuff his face full of some snacks. But he does it politely. He has manners. Somehow. There's a female voice in the back of his head telling him to chew his food and be a good example. Whatever that means. ]

[avicula]

[ at some point during the evening, dutch settles down on the couch next to clint. she remembers him, but does that mean he remembers her, too? she's not entirely sure, though so far, most memories she has of this town and her life in this world rather than out in space seem to be reciprocated, real.

she grabs a controller, glancing at clint sideways. ] Think you can keep up with me?

[arcum]

[ The memory is there. Strangely enough. But it doesn't click into place until she's next to him. Her scent hits him like a runaway train and for half a second Clint can feel the heat from the sun on the back of his neck. He can feel the sweat winding down his brow. He's back there. Almost immediately. But when she speaks he's back in the room. Air conditioning going and his body comfortable.

He turns his head finally and smiles at her. ]

Pretty sure I already proved that overseas. [ With another grin he grabs a controller. ]

[avicula]

Maybe. Or maybe I was going easy on you.

[ dutch definitely wasn't going easy on him overseas. she remembers sweat and dirt and pushing clint down onto a thin mattress with a hand just below his throat, fingers spread over his collarbones. she remembers it all too well, but she doesn't remember why they were fighting a war, against whom, any of the information that should matter.

none of it was real, probably. ]

[arcum]

Were you now? Cause my broken cot doesn't seem to agree with you.

[ She was wild. More wild than she probably had any reason to be, but he didn't hate it. He liked it. Clint can't rightfully remember much about the war that brought him there. He remembers moments. Blinks in time. Him laying hidden while he tried to teach Bucky to beat box over the comm line. He remembers Dutch giving him shit and then he remembers what she looked like out of the damn flak jacket. ]

[avicula]

[ dutch lets out a laugh at that, low but no less amused for it. ] All right, maybe I wasn't. [ and maybe she isn't now that they've started up this game: he makes that comment and she laughs, but she also delivers a low kick to one of his legs, striking it with one of her ankles — but then leaving her leg there for a moment after, too. maybe it'll distract him into making a mistake on the road; maybe it won't. ]

[arcum]

[ There's a yelp from Clint when she connects. He didn't think she'd resort to childish tactics like kicking. But he doesn't look angry about it. In fact he's still smiling. But he's ready in case she tries to elbow him or go for something a little more substantial.

Dutch takes another approach. Her leg practically glued to the side of his by now. He squints trying to figure out what's happening until he finally looks down. ]

Stop it. You're cheating.

[avicula]

[ this game is a lot more harmless than some of the games dutch has played in her life, though she doesn't remember ever playing any game at all, so she's not sure where that thought comes from. it reminds her of the easy camaraderie with johnny, reading comics while lying on his bed, that kind of thing.

clint isn't johnny. that's a good thing; dutch is pretty sure sleeping with johnny would ruin their partnership and she has no intention or interest in doing that. (she misses johnny. she's pretty sure he's real.) ]

Yeah, so? What are you going to do about it?

[arcum]

[ It's not fair. He has no defense for this. Women know that men don't have a defense for things like this too. He probably should have had another player sit between them. Just to keep her cheating ass in check. So she couldn't play footsie and ruin his focus.

But Clint pulls his leg away. In a desperate attempt to keep his coordination and not go spiraling into a wall. ]

No more footsie or I'm calling a redo.

[avicula]

So you can't handle it.

[ all right, so the discussion started with dutch asking if he could keep up. not quite the same as handling it, her, but close enough. clearly, he can't. she's managing to stay on the road and make decent time even while very deliberately cheating via footsie playing. ]

[futureserialkiller]

[ Carl sucks at video games, but he has a very good excuse why.

His lack of an eye, of course. Carl tilts his head and squints at times, but he still keeps hitting the walls, other players, or the banana peels and turtle shells. After only having eleventh place for the bazillionth time, Carl gives up and hands the controller to someone else. ]

Someone else can play.

[ He needs a snack to take his frustrations out of. ]

[arcum]

[ As a man with excellent depth perception he can't help, but feel bad for the kid. But he can compensate. He'll just have to work on it. It's not gonna be easy, but that's part of what makes the world difficult. Sometimes it deals you a raw hand and you have to make it work.

Clint takes the controller and passes it back. ]

Nah. Give it another shot. [ He knows it's all about practice. ] I'll tell you when to shell 'em.

[futureserialkiller]

[ There's a small moment of hesitation and he takes the controller again. ]

Alright.

[ He picks a character at random and tries again. Carl is bumping into other karts again, and is starting to veer into the grassy areas. ]

[arcum]

[ Clint leans forward a little. Watching the kid trying to drive. He's not sure how he can physically compensate with just the one eye. Other than just practicing. Staying alert. Waiting for other stuff to make up for it. ]

Let it rip right--[ He nods. ]--now.

[futureserialkiller]

[ Carl manages to get out of the grassy patch and onto the road. He's doing okay now - still behind and not making much headway. When Carl got a shell, he waits until the moment is right. At the man's suggestion, Carl send the shell rocketing out, hitting the wall or other characters.

Carl speeds up, going past several of the spinning drivers. ]

[arcum]

[ Clint looks damn proud when the kid manages to nail them. When he speeds by them. He tells him when he might need to ease off the gas for a turn. Advises him on when to speed up. When the round finally does end and Carl isn't last he's pretty damn pleased for him. It isn't easy to take that kind of direction so smoothly. ]

Look at that. You kicked loads of ass that time. Good job, man.

[futureserialkiller]

[ Carl leans back on his rear, satisfied. ]

Yeah.

[ It's a small victory, but dammit he's gonna take what he's given. Not dead last, that's for certain. ]

Thanks, man.

[magija]

[ Sometimes there's a female voice in the back of Clint's head, but sometimes there's a different female voice actually whispering at the side of it. ]

You're too reckless. Keep driving wildly and your little car will explode.

[ She whispers it at his ear with a low, blunt tone as she leans in from behind him. Her eyes watch the screen for a short but lasting moment, judgement not easily disguised even as the light from the television shines on her pupils. Slipping a peanut between her lips from the handful of them she holds in her palm, she takes a seat behind him, her attention still on the racing cars.

Her memories might be scattered and uncertain, but she remembers Clint. Despite the recklessness she comments on, his presence somehow always represents something sturdy to her, as if she can feel herself all the more balanced knowing he's there. Just like the vague dreams she has of memories she can't place together, it's an intangible thing that tells her all she needs to know about what this man is to her.

In her seat, she leans forward, elbow on her knee and chin on her palm. ] Isn't this a child's game?

[arcum]

[ Wanda, can you not.

Though truthfully he doesn't mind her presence. She doesn't always feel the need to chat. Sometimes she can just sit next to Clint and it feels okay. But right now she's judging his driving. Giving him shit. Which feels more normal than he's felt since he woke up in the hospital. He likes her presence. It's always warm. Something to relax him even if she is giving him shit about his driving. ]

I have to drive reckless or someone's gonna shell me.

[ Get with it, Wanda. ]

Who told you that? It's a game for adults. Adults can definitely play it. Look at all the adults playing it.

[magija]

That makes little sense.

[ Shell him? Wanda has little memories but even if she'd begun to sprout more, she doubts any of them would relate to playing games like this. Not herself anyway. Though the way fingers shift and sway on the controllers, they're reminiscent to her own hands working at spells and magic in mimicking motions.

Hmm. Maybe it isn't such a childish thing at all. ]

Oh, is that so? My mistake, then. I only saw you and assumed adults hadn't been invited to play.

[ If he looks at her, he might catch the twitch of a lip that could be identified as a smile. ]

[arcum]

If I'm driving in a straight line and they shell me then it means there's a straight path for the shell to follow to hit me. Then I'm fucked.

[ Follow the concept Wanda. But it doesn't occur to him that maybe she just doesn't know what the hell Mario Kart is. Or the reasoning behind any of it. She'd probably do better playing a round than watching as things just happened. But then again it's not a real complicated game. ]

Hah. Hah. Hah. [ He doesn't need to look at her face to see the smile and know she's messing with him. She's Wanda. She always is. ] Pick up a controller.

[magija]

[ Fucked by shells? What an unfortunate life you lead, Clint. ]

I did not know "shell" could be a verb. Perhaps I should practice my English more.

[ It's spoken with sheer sarcasm, sensed easily with the tone, one that Clint should be incredibly familiar with. It certainly is the way they speak to each other, after all. That's how Wanda remembers it, anyway.

She laughs when he makes the suggestion, her eyes glancing down at the extra controller near his feet. ] Why? Do you want to shell me?

[arcum]

[ Don't be gross, Wanda. God.

She is at a disadvantage. But he's willing to teach. Sometimes with video games you got words that you wouldn't normally use one way. He knows she'll pick it up. She's faster than she lets people assume. Which is why she's giving him shit about shell being a verb. ]

If you don't stop talking to me like that Steve's gonna give you a firm talking to.