Interlude to Russia

[cfbhawkeye]

Clint hates Russia. He hates the people, he hates the food, he hates the cold... in general he HATES Russia.

Only two things have come out of Russia in his opinion are enough to make the whole country worth existence at all. One was Natasha Romanov. The other was stroganoff.

He would say Bucky Barnes but the ex-WWII soldier turned uber-sniper turned ally was only sustained and trained in Russia. He was born on Staten Island. So there.

So its any wonder that his attitude is snarling and sour when he heads for a bar to TRY and get something to warm his belly and hands in the bitter cold of Siberian winter. He's in a foul enough mood that he ignores almost everyone in the bar. Including those he probably shouldn't.*

Comments

[justadeliveryboy]

There's plenty to get in a bar. Whether or not it will actually give you any real, reliable warmth is a different story entirely, but the impression of it? There's no place better to go than a Russian bar, as far as Toorop's concerned.

...well. Few places better. Honestly he can think of more than a few, but the vodka's local here, and usually not bootleg, and the other patrons generally keep to themselves if you tell them once or twice. He hasn't gotten kicked out in a month or so anyway, so he figures it's as good a place as any and better than most of the others within walking distance of his tiny, crumbling apartment with questionable heating and unreliable electricity. The mercenary makes a note to have an in-depth conversation with his employer next chance he gets in regards to what constitutes habitable living environments. He doesn't ask for much, but heat in the dead of winter would be nice at the very least if he expects him to be able to pull a trigger with anything resembling accuracy. Sure, he's lived in worse, but if he's going to be working out of a place that's actually got access to the amenities you'd think he'd get the basics included.

He's already at the bar when the American walks in, picking up a bottle of vodka and his order of pirozhki before turning to watch the door as the gust of icy wind blows in with him. He could return to his table, but he's always been the curious type. So he waits instead. And watches.

[cfbhawkeye]

What kind of secret agent would he be if he didn't notice when someone was watching him. Discrete or not.

He can tell. He can feel it.

He's already taken his mark. He's waiting for evac. Which won't be for another two days to avoid to much attention. He's stuck in Russia for two days to wait for his trail to cool just enough so he can get picked up to head somewhere sane. Like Afghanistan or Bosnia.

He doesn't speak, doesn't approach but he sends the stranger a look. Bluegreygreen eyes flashing a dangerous grey. A warning. Threatening. Telling the stranger that if he knows whats good for him he'll stay away and clear.*

[justadeliveryboy]

Not the first time Toorop's gotten the stink eye from some stranger, won't be the last either, so he just raises the bottle in something that might be companionable, might be threatening. Depends on how the guy wants to interpret it, and honestly between excursions as he is he could use the diversion either way. Better than sitting around, anyway.

[cfbhawkeye]

Oh Clint has never been the one to look for a fight. He's always been happy to stsy out of necessary conflict.

But now... now he's in just enough of a mood to be spoiling for a fight. He ferally flashes his teeth at the other. Daring him. He won't make the first move but he'll be damned if he won't meet a challenge and kick ass.*