[ There's a stretch of time where Clint is left in the cold.
From his sidewalk view of the inside the building, he can see modern furniture, hexagonal paneling, and, in the distance, a nursery full of plants. There's a quote by Neil deGrasse Tyson above the door, 'knowing where you came from is no less important than knowing where you are going.'
Clint's got a good forty seconds to consider his life choices before the door swings open.
To start, he gets a lot of eyes, all black and gold and fluttering sporadically. Eyes on Slade's face, eyes on Slade's neck, eyes on the wall of muscle he calls his torso, eyes on his stomach... Most of these wouldn't be seen, but they're on full display because Slade is not only shirtless, but he's wet and barely covered with two towels (one being for his hair). Normally fluffy wings droop slightly with the weight of water. Drips fall from the tips of his horns. He's got a toothbrush halfway in his mouth and a look that doesn't say much of anything.
Give Clint another ten seconds to reconsider everything about his life, and then: ]
Didn't think you'd actually show up. Didn't realize sweaters meant that much to you. [ Granted, bristles and foam make that sound much more garbled. He takes a moment to step past Clint and spit into the grass. ] Wasn't very smart of you. Could have been a trap. Should have been a trap.
[ But it doesn't look much like a trap.
It looks like Slade's peaceful shower was interrupted by someone with a death wish. ( Not because Slade has any intention of killing him, but why else would someone accept a strange invitation from a strange man? )
He's getting points for bravery. Or stupidity. ]
Come in, if you're going to. This fight shouldn't take long.
[ The decision is left to him. Slade, meanwhile, doesn't make any indication that getting dressed is a priority — he's been more naked in less forgiving company. ]
...And you brought something. Good. Saves me the trouble of having to loan you one of mine.
no subject
From his sidewalk view of the inside the building, he can see modern furniture, hexagonal paneling, and, in the distance, a nursery full of plants. There's a quote by Neil deGrasse Tyson above the door, 'knowing where you came from is no less important than knowing where you are going.'
Clint's got a good forty seconds to consider his life choices before the door swings open.
To start, he gets a lot of eyes, all black and gold and fluttering sporadically. Eyes on Slade's face, eyes on Slade's neck, eyes on the wall of muscle he calls his torso, eyes on his stomach... Most of these wouldn't be seen, but they're on full display because Slade is not only shirtless, but he's wet and barely covered with two towels (one being for his hair). Normally fluffy wings droop slightly with the weight of water. Drips fall from the tips of his horns. He's got a toothbrush halfway in his mouth and a look that doesn't say much of anything.
Give Clint another ten seconds to reconsider everything about his life, and then: ]
Didn't think you'd actually show up. Didn't realize sweaters meant that much to you. [ Granted, bristles and foam make that sound much more garbled. He takes a moment to step past Clint and spit into the grass. ] Wasn't very smart of you. Could have been a trap. Should have been a trap.
[ But it doesn't look much like a trap.
It looks like Slade's peaceful shower was interrupted by someone with a death wish. ( Not because Slade has any intention of killing him, but why else would someone accept a strange invitation from a strange man? )
He's getting points for bravery. Or stupidity. ]
Come in, if you're going to. This fight shouldn't take long.
[ The decision is left to him. Slade, meanwhile, doesn't make any indication that getting dressed is a priority — he's been more naked in less forgiving company. ]
...And you brought something. Good. Saves me the trouble of having to loan you one of mine.