- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- Whenever I can get on.
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, Comedy, Medieval, Romance, Sci-Fi, Modern
Clint flashes a rock and roll sign when he ends up in a picture with Yang, an easy going smile on his face. He gets up once the show's over. "Food sounds good. Pizza sounds better." He flashes a teasing grin at Lady. He checks his scroll, provided by the Atlesian military under orders from the general himself to remain available in case of further questioning. Sure enough, there was a locker number and code for him and he follows the good lady's lead to the locker room. He unhooks his own weapon from his back, but removes the blades of his shovel head and stows them in his boots, not willing to go completely defenseless in unknown territory. Catching a glance of familiar weaponry as Lady puts her stuff away, he realizes he's not the only person from Earth attending this academy.
It had him worried. Coincidences did not exist in his line of work and he wasn't so sure this wasn't a setup of some kind. Two people in positions of power had taken an interest in him and he'd been acting within the norms of this place. He'd play this close to the chest until he had something more substantial to work with. It wasn't every day that he walked off a fall that had every right to kill him and wake up twenty years younger in another world. Something had to be going on here.
He shuts his locker and forces his mind back to their current goal. Getting some grub and chilling out for the rest of the night. "So where's the dining hall at?" He asks as more of a rhetorical question as he waits for the rest of the gang to finish up here. He seemed more attentive to the weapons being stowed now, looking for anything else in the realm of familiarity.
It had him worried. Coincidences did not exist in his line of work and he wasn't so sure this wasn't a setup of some kind. Two people in positions of power had taken an interest in him and he'd been acting within the norms of this place. He'd play this close to the chest until he had something more substantial to work with. It wasn't every day that he walked off a fall that had every right to kill him and wake up twenty years younger in another world. Something had to be going on here.
He shuts his locker and forces his mind back to their current goal. Getting some grub and chilling out for the rest of the night. "So where's the dining hall at?" He asks as more of a rhetorical question as he waits for the rest of the gang to finish up here. He seemed more attentive to the weapons being stowed now, looking for anything else in the realm of familiarity.
clint barton
hawkeye