<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://i1148.photobucket.com/albums/o566/thenightisnear/Fave%20Characters/cb2.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Name:</strong> Clint Barton<br/><strong>Title:</strong> Hawkeye<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Stark Tower, Landing Pad<br/><strong>Time:</strong> 7:33 PM, Eastern Standard Time<br/><strong>Tags:</strong> Natasha Romanoff</span></span><br/><hr/><br/>Clint nodded agreement with Natasha's comment, a drink would be nice to drive away the chill of the night and also dampen the flickering sparks of something unseemly threatening to ignite.  Once Natasha leaned against him, her eyes gazing into his own, Clint found himself trapped, becoming very aware that the sparks had started to consume him.  He struggled mightily to keep that familiar mask of stoic composure locked on even as the rest of him conspired to betray him to Natasha.<br/><br/>'A drink sounds good, Natasha.'  Clint shivered, partly from the chill and from Natasha's slinky move.  He was rattled, the mask slipping down a bit further, but he was glad that Natasha had turned around so she didn't see that she had the desired effect on him.  He followed her inside, rubbing his forearms.  While his uniform served him well during the summer months, the colder weather of the coming months were going to be intolerable, especially if his arms shook with every shot.<br/><br/>Clint was going to need to arrange something with Supply, he needed something with sleeves...something like what everyone else and especially Natasha were wearing.  He waved away that stray fragment of a thought, he was slipping up and that was going to be a problem...  Yes, he had eyes just like anyone else but their line of business didn't afford them any leeway in being free.  Clint knew a bit about Natasha's past and he couldn't say with any conviction that his hands were less stained.  Oh of course, the Director and S.H.I.E.L.D. coated it well with the public but he was more a shadowed blade than the good soldier that the Captain was.<br/><br/>He slipped on a bar stool and watched as Natasha deftly made herself a drink.  Blades like him and Natasha were expected to keep their edge, time not keeping themselves sharp meant a greater chance of slipping up later.  Clint caught himself frowning at that thought and leaned forwards, resting his arms on the bar top.  'I think I'll have a shot of what you're having Natasha.' Clint relaxed slightly, the defensive edge still in his posture melted as he returned Natasha's faint smile with an amused twinkle in eye and voice. 'Just not too heavy on the liqueur, it can muddy up that clear taste of vodka.'<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Continued in Stark Tower - Living Quarters &amp; Common Areas</span> (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=144301.msg6500072#msg6500072)</div>