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[ it barely takes any time at all for sanji to hop into his car the moment that wanda gives him the confirmation that she absolutely would be willing to get kidnapped — or at least picked up from her job to make a kind of getaway towards some more casual times around the city. it's not like they've really have much chances for fun, not beyond the delightful conversations they tend to exchange back at the motel or within their countless messages to one another through the phones.

even if she's not bound to consider this a date, sanji certainly is, in his own way, putting on a clean shirt (a nice button up, of course) and trying to comb his hair down to something a little more controlled. not that it helps, since the moment he steps out, the drizzle of rain brings about enough of a humidity that his hair is already back in short waves and there's plenty of droplets dots scattered on his shirt.

ultimately, all that really matters is being able to pick up wanda.

parking the car along the curb, sanji reaches for his suit jacket from the back seat, simply hanging it over his arm rather than putting it on when he steps out and makes his way across the street and into the shop. all too instantly, he's grinning the moment he gets a look at wanda, not even acknowledging her coworker or any lingering customers. ]

Hi, there. [ spoken with every bit of his usual charm. ] You wouldn't happen to be good at cars, would you? Feels like mine's been stalling a bit with this rain, and I could really use the help.

( wanda will definitely ponder what the equal sign is supposed to represent for a while, and it'll hit her with how obvious it is, some time later. she'll be endeared by it, because it sure is something, to be around people who have never done a lot of texting before. not that she's a paragon of this, though.

she follows him with her gaze, as he moves towards the chairs that people tend to sit on to wait on their laundry at. it's kind of a necessity, sometimes, because leaving your clothes alone means anyone could come take them. wanda takes a long step towards him, arms crossed, studying him; says he's good, offers no real elaboration, but she gets the feeling that it's enough.

he seems the type to do best when he's looking after others.

a light shrug is the answer to his question. she isn't very hungry, but... eating with others, it means bonding with them. )

A bit.

( she points back to the washing machines with a thumb just over her shoulder. )

I can keep our laundry safe while you do that.

( already working as a team, what do you know... )

( at not being acknowledged, wanda's coworker just rolls their eyes, immediately getting a sense of what all is going on here. he dressed up, is what she thinks, and figures that 'kidnapping' is quite the big deal and one must dress appropriately for it. she glances back at stan, who shrugs at the question as if to say i'm not getting involved, leave before i rat you out.

wanda leans back, tapping at the counter with her fingers. )

You know, we're just a convenience store.

( stan audibly groans, so wanda just shoves at his arm lightly, thanks, and moves around the counter. )

I can try to help you figure it out. It sounds like you really need the help.

[His eyes do get drawn to the mark around her neck. Trying not to give it too much attention, but--listen, he wasn't lying. The Raft doesn't make him mad now. The memories of that are so far behind and, frankly, led to something good for him. But the reminder of what they did to Wanda, and the reminder of what got lost, the reminder of what could have been if things had been different--

If he let himself, he's sure he could dredge up that anger from the depths. But even the depths are a little closer to the surface than they ever were before.

The question about his family feels so abrupt that he can't help the way his fingers curl tight around the edge of the table, the startled blink, the way he sits upright just a little bit more.] No. [Too fast, too harsh. Take a breath. His fingers do not uncurl, but the rest of his body he forces to give off the impression of relaxing.] No, I...haven't checked. [It literally hadn't occurred to him to. He's not sure what it would mean if they were. He wants to say--literally takes a breath to say, weird Avengers-level shit doesn't happen to them unless he directly involves them, but that's so not remotely true that he just lets the breath out again as a huff.]

You think I should?

( after conversing with stephen for the past few weeks, at a distance, wanda's apprehension towards him lowered. he spoke of control, of managing these powers that she has, of being able to use them without being overwhelmed by them. the notion seems a little too idealistic, too perfect, but, today, on this perfectly sunny day with sunshine so bright it makes the edges of the city sharp, she has deigned it a good enough day to meet with him again.

it might be true when people say sunshine boosts one's mood for the better.

what nearly brings it down entirely is to see stephen in the flesh, looking gaunt, tired, dehydrated, and like he just grabbed the first clothes his hand landed on from a pile at the secondhand store. she scrunches up her nose. )

Do you have joolies with you?

( they're not doing this the way he is. )

[ Scott's eyebrows shoot up in agreement when Wanda tells him to pick jobs where there's airconditioning. The heatwave might've been unprecedented, but it's a good suggestion nonetheless especially when the state of everything around here can be unpredictable.

Finishing with his shoes, Scott inspects the bowling balls they have in this place. Not great, but not bad. ]

No problem. [ On paying, he means. ] Haven't really listened to country a lot. It's not my thing, but I also don't have strong feelings about it.

[ If it's in the radio, sure, why not? But he won't go out of his way to actually listen to it. After eyeing the lane, he looks back at Wanda. ] So, I take it you know how to play this? [ Just gauging how much he needs to teach her. ]

( so, scott isn't necessarily the type who gets too concerned with music. it's really nothing, in the grand scheme of things, but it tells wanda a little bit about him. and that curiosity grows in her, so—

once she's got her shoes on, boots neatly tucked back under the bench, she glances up at him. )

I've seen how it's played, but I don't know how the points work. ( and has never actually thrown a bowling ball down the lane as a matter of fact— ) I can probably figure it out if you go first.

( she stands up, walking up to him. )

What music would you change their playlist with, then?

( though she's promised him that she would not poke into his head, take glimpses at what's on his mind, it is impossible to not notice the shift in clint's overall demeanor. wanda wouldn't need to be a telepath to see that asking about his family was, perhaps, the wrong thing to say.

for a moment it worries her. a feeling of dread, of something important that has happened that she isn't aware of—things that he's holding onto until she decides to ask him about it.

her head tilts, thoughtful, eyes on him. )

...why not?

( but that doesn't feel like the right thing to say either. )

You okay?

[What better to talk about than a shared experience? It'll be fine, probably.

It’s not that he’s unused to operating on his own. (Didn't have the wide web of friends that Dick did, only ran a handful of missions with the Titans. He’d wanted to be Robin so badly that he hadn't cared about much else.) These days he mostly prefers to keep his social circles contained—better to know who you can hang your expectations on. But he alsolikes to keep tabs. Some folks in town have been more interesting than others. Worth a bit of a followup.

It's either confidence in her answer or a gesture of goodwill that he takes a chance on giving her some space. Chooses to loiter outside as she finishes her shift rather than keep up his hovering. If she decides to escape out the back door instead, he honestly couldn't blame her for it. He might have done the same, in her shoes.

She doesn’t, though. Hard to pass up a free lunch in a town like this one. He doesn't make a big deal of it, just pivots on a heel to start leading them out toward the nearby diner, hands pocketed again in his jacket.

More flies with honey, right? (Or at least: with moderately burnt diner coffee.)]

Jay. [But no one's called him that in a while, and he kind of catches himself. Amends it.] Jason.

What about you, Red?

[No nametag on her working getup, he supposes. (If there is, he doesn't count on it being the right name.)]

( she could have, as he may have considered, escape out the back door instead of meeting him out front, but wanda considered her options and it would genuinely have been a dumb decision. jason tracked her down once, he could do it again should she have decided to pick out another job; it was genuinely all too much trouble for something she could shut down tonight over a free meal.

so, here she is now, following him, keeping up. )

Wanda.

( his name will be easy to remember. she hasn't met anyone with it before, so she won't fail to make that connection to him. arms move back and forth at her sides, hands curled into loose fists, staring at the side of his head before pressing her attention to where she walks, as they draw closer to the diner. )

—I shouldn't call you Jay, then?

[ While looking after others intentionally may not a conscious thought for him most of the time, it often ends up that way; he's here, he'll be here, and everything just happens the way it will, and he'll react accordingly. What happens to him personally is less of a thought in his mind than what's going on around him. Not much to really think about when it comes to himself. He does what he needs to survive and that's it.

But the good people around him, people like Wanda, people he's loyal to — he'll protect and keep an eye on in every way he can. ]

Anyone tries to walk off with that hoodie, you know what to do. [ He says this dryly, but with another slight quirk of his lips. He's not actually tied to any of the laundry on a sentimental level, but he's built up a nice little rotation of clothes now, so.

More to the point, he trusts her to keep an eye on anything of his. He'd do the same for her. So, perfect team...

Amos gives her a quick nod, heads out. ]

Be back.

[ He's gone less than thirty minutes, comes back with two milkshakes and a bag of some type of fried potato wedges. As he steps back in, looks for her, he notes — ]

Had one of these the other day. [ — said as he moves towards her holding out one of the chocolate shakes. ] Real fuckin' good.

[Why not? Why not? What a hysterical thing to ask. Why didn't he go looking through the interdimensional city where he's half convinced he's dead to see if his non-existent-save-thirty-seconds-before-his-fall family had also, by sheer stupid coincidence, had also ended up here? Because that seems patently absurd is why.

Well. Sheer stupid coincidence turned every single one of them but him to dust. Maybe he should have thought of that. Maybe it's not absurd. Has he been a fucking idiot this whole time? But they're not dead and dust. Not anymore. He's pretty damn sure.

But then, Wanda is also not dust anymore in theory.

There's a lie halfway to his lips before he decides lying to a friend and telepath is also patently stupid. You okay?] No. [He gives her a tight smile that looks more like a grimace.] I'm not, no. Haven't been for a while.

( where does she draw the line? of wanting to curate her own experiences, remove herself from avengers-level situations out of rightful anger, to the potentiality of being nothing but selfish? to ignore the way clint has reacted in the past couple of seconds to the way he telegraphs his emotions despite his best efforts, it would be selfish. perhaps even harmful to their relationship.

wanda considers this for less than a second (because she does care, so much), before reaching out across the table for one of his hands. )

Hey.

( she's thought it before, how she isn't natasha. but in this world of unknowns, of strangers, perhaps they're all they've got. it's been years for clint, since the raft; he's retired, but ... this isn't the look of a man who's retired from the superhero gig.

swallowing, she hedges her words, hand squeezing his lightly. )

Did something happen to your family?

( you know what to do—the sentiment of trust alone is enough to let wanda feeling that the amount of time he's doing to spend scavenging for food in some diner will be worth it. she has a role here, a responsibility, and this pact of trust between the two of them will only work if she does her best.

when he comes back, she's back to sitting down and reading the magazine she had abandoned, glancing up at what he's brought. )

Milkshake?

( wanda takes it, though, before he questions whether the way she said that means that she isn't keen on it. food in this place is a brand new experience in many ways, and she's been spoiled to have food be filtered through a cook's experienced hands before having to try out canned beef. still, chocolate is chocolate, and she won't say no to that.

she tucks the magazine between the seats, rolled up, and takes a sip through the straw— )

Mhm. Almost tastes like real chocolate.

( she waits for him to hopefully sit beside her. )

Do you have this in the century you're from? ( and because she remembers she hasn't offered this, she adds, ) I'm from 2015. They're all over in this place called America.

[It had been some of the longest few seconds of his life. The phone ringing. Her number. Her voice. The way he couldn't articulate for all the emotions threatening to undo him in the moments before the world exploded into ash and flame.

If it worked, if that did happen, and not some crazy hallucination, then everything will have been worth it. Almost worth it. Worth it. Natasha would want him to--

There's the briefest instance where it looks like he's going to jerk away at her touch, but, instead, he steadies. Reaches for...not numbness, but familiarity of pain enough to dull it. He doesn't want to fall all to pieces right now, in front of her, in this hole in the wall of a restaurant. She's so far removed from it all. And she won't pluck it out of his thoughts if she can help it.

He swallows down the exhaustion and the grief, old old friends of his, and nods. The words are all jumbled up and stuck. He'll have to pry them loose. This isn't about him. This isn't supposed to be about him. Wanda has the whole rest of her life to live and then not live and then live again, and to live here at least for a time. It doesn't have to be about him.

Like clearing the blockage with a crowbar, Clint swallows a few times, and his words start out watery before he makes them even out.] Think it's going to be okay, now. I hope so.

[For them. And for half the universe. It's going to be okay, and that's the part that matters.]

[Wanda. Suits her, he thinks. Well, Wanda picks up on that little correction in a way most people wouldn't, which probably serves him right for cornering her. Sharp. His shoulders shift, he rolls them back before they try to creep up toward his ears, keeps his posture loose. But his mouth presses into a thin line, jaw shifting in a tic of self-directed frustration. (Maybe he hadn't realized it would bother him until hearing it out loud.)

He doesn't look back at her. Blithely—]

You can do what you want.

[Not like he can stop her. (It shouldn't bother him.) Another few steps in silence, though, and, like an afterthought—]

No one calls me that.

[(Unsaid, of course: no one calls him that anymore.)]

[ Generally speaking, things have never been easy for him, nor has anything about him ever been considered easy. Cagey, paranoid, closed off, and flighty had been used to describe him depending on who someone was speaking to. But for those that he seemed to have a bond with, his loyalty ran incredibly deep.

And perhaps, maybe, he understood what it looked like when someone was used to having to stand on their own two feet out of a need to survive.

Her teasing earns a good-natured snort. ]

If that's what will help you accept your choice to accept a ride, we can say that.

[ The drive here had been smooth, if not long. But because of that, it seems that most people are still opting to stay a little longer at the resort, leaving a clear road for them ahead. Any potential potholes are quietly noted and responded to with a gentle maneuver around them. Much like piloting long distances, his body and a part of his mind fall into autopilot, while the other part of his mind is left to quietly wander. Wander, at least until Wanda says something that isn't about potholes or the drive.

There's a beat of silence that may or may not feel like she's managed to catch him off guard. ]

Bother? As in stop to offer you a ride back into town?

[ sanji's version of "dressing up" would hardly be anything too out of the ordinary for those who know him, since things like suit attire tend to become a normal occurrence even when he's out on the sea (some days he really misses the scent of the clinging salt carried by the wind against the threads of his clothing). at the very least, to his credit, he's chosen to forego the tie for today looking more casual than formal, especially with his sleeves partially rolled up halfway along his forearms.

he doesn't give much attention to the silent exchanges between wanda and her coworker, too busy fighting the obvious smile that's spread so easily on his face, practically giving their little game away. not that it matters; sanji would steal her away from this place regardless. ]

Oh, I really do. I'm pretty much useless without a very capable and gorgeous girl like you to show me the ropes.

[ okay, maybe there's a lot more ways for him to give himself away, but he's chuckling anyway, stepping backwards towards the door again before giving it a push, letting the little bell above ring as he holds it open for her. ]

After you. And you could block out some of that rain with this over your head. [ he lifts his arm, indicating the jacket he'd brought with him, intended more for her than himself when he'd grabbed it. ]

[ Sit beside her, he does. There's a soft, barely noticeable thump as he situates himself; more like just drops in the seat next to her, stretching his legs out in front of him a little, crossed at the ankles.

There's a part of him that can't help thinking despite them being fried in oil, the potato wedges are nearly the healthiest thing he's eaten in a week. At least, he's pretty sure they're genuine potatoes, and that counts for...something. Sure, there's other shit in there, but — they're good. He hasn't eaten like this in a long time, not since he left Baltimore. Even then, eating the fried shit and fake meat from street vendors was more of a luxury. Once he'd escaped Earth, he'd been able to get much better food out in space. Even liked cooking meals for the crew — good pasta, steak and eggs, that kind of thing. ]

Almost.

[ Now real chocolate, that's been a minute. This food here in this place — some of it's so familiar, some of it's not at all.

When she seems to have the drink settled in her hand, he moves to offer the crinkly, greasy bag of potatoes to her. It can be hers, if she wants it. ]

I'm from Baltimore originally, so — I know it. Just kinda different now — year's 2350. [ He pauses a minute, gives a little shrug. ] Ish. Don't have stuff like this on Earth, though. Most people are on Basic, so you'd get — enriched rice and chewy meat that isn't meat. Textured protein. 'Bout all anyone can afford.

[ Well, it kinda depended on where you lived. But in the slums of the big cities, they sure weren't eating anything like this. Everything was rationed and limited. ]

( by this point, wanda is familiar with sanji's complimenting adjectives towards herself, so it doesn't so much fluster her because of their nature but because it certainly gets her coworker to stop and try to make connections about what this relationship sounds like. before that can be voiced out, hearing the echo of it in his mind, wanda shuffles outside with sanji— )

I thought the jacket was to make the kidnapping more realistic.

( you know,

she tucks her fingers onto his waist, into one of the belt loops of his trousers, and guides him out the door and into the drizzle. whether the jacket should go over her or not, this is up to him. the door closes behind them, even as stan says, hey!, and then she's easily pulling up the hoodie over her head. )

You shouldn't get wet. ( the same hand at his waist now moves to his arm, curling around it. ) Come on.

( she peers down the greasy bag he offers her, but doesn't take it. instead, she pushes a hand inside and grabs at some of the wedges to munch on, too. wanda has a fairly consistent source of proper meals on a daily basis, so she isn't left wanting.

she listens to him, though. baltimore, definitely american, then, but 2350 is so far ahead in the future, wanda cannot imagine what that's like at all. )

On 'basic', like it's a subscription...? ( she makes a face at that—at the thought of things that sound halfway artificial. ) No offense, but it doesn't sound great.

( besides, potatoes are fantastic. she's glad those exist here in some way, and they can have all manner of potato-like dishes. she makes a note of inviting him over for a meal once in a while; that'll blow his mind.

wanda reaches for another wedge, bringing it up to her mouth to bite on. )

What kinds of jobs do people do in 2350?

( what do you do? )

( well, when he puts it like that, it makes her feel somewhat dumb for asking. her lips twist to the side, uncertain, before glancing out the window, hand against her chin. maybe cassian really is that kind samaritan that helps people out and it has nothing to do with the fact that it's her.

maybe fishing for some amount of validation that makes her feel like she's doing something right in terms of 'gathering' friends does the opposite of that. how uncool, pietro might have remarked.

a little annoyed (with herself), she turns back towards the central console, waving her hand towards him, frazzled. )

Forget I asked.

( she's awkward about this. )

( what jason doesn't realize is that wanda can pick out something sullen from him, how he doesn't have anyone calling him that anymore, and he might be surprised to realize that she completely understands that. there are names, terms of endearment, that she will never be called again, neither by her parents nor her brother.

somehow, this became a little awkward. she swats at his elbow—it's mostly sleeve, less hand, in the swatting. )

Don't tell me I can do what I want if it's something you'd actually hate.

( she has no reason to be vindictive towards him, even if she mildly resents that he came to seek her out like this.

the diner is just up ahead, and they step in, getting seated at a booth. wanda places her menu atop the table, covering her face, like a wall between them. the options aren't great, but... she'll consider this for a bit longer. )

( clint say that it's going to be okay now, that he hopes so, and wanda can't help but feel a surge of desire to connect with what entirely he means by this. the only reason she draws her hand away, though, is because the server comes in with their orders, setting them down before them, completely ignoring the heaviness of the conversation between the two.

it breaks the tension, a bit, as she starts spooning around her noodle soup, not quite eating yet.

wanda glances up at him. )

I know it's not very helpful, but I'm here.

( and even if she wants to reject the notion of avengers, it doesn't mean she'll reject clint. they're friends, bonded over some heavy stuff—she can be here for him, too, the way he's been there for her, through some rough patches. )

[ even as they make their way outside, sanji can't quite stop his grinning, ignoring any lasting comments from stan the coworker as he lets the door shut behind him. even as wanda slides the hoodie up over her head, he opens up the jacket, gently topping it up over carefully, letting it settle on her shoulders, so she has double protection. ]

Don't worry about me. Water and I get along plenty well. [ because idiots like him hardly ever get sick, or whatever the saying is meant to be. he simply chuckles when she brings her hand around his arm, reaching over with his other hand to briefly give hers a gentle squeeze. ] Right away. Your kidnapping adventure awaits.

[ he looks out onto the street, making sure the way is clear before he guides her across it, shoes patting across the wet pavement with quick steps until they can reach his car. of course, he walks with her the entire way over to her side, all for him to be able to open the door of it himself, as any good gentleman would. ]

Any other stops you want to make along the way?

CLOSED ˖

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