OTA

[quartermaster_q]

Hunting down these sorts of men, the kind who bought and sold the innocent, seemed to be a pet project for Bond, and while Q wasn't totally sure what had inspired the man's mission, he respected it.

The first time they'd followed a lead like this, it hadn't gone as hoped. Though this time around at least Q was prepared to play the part. Currently he was alone in the bar, deliberately dressed a bit younger than usual, his glasses swapped out for contacts, and his hair styled in a way that made him look younger. 

Q looked young anyway, but like this he truly looked too young to be a bloody quartermaster.

This was just reconnaissance though. They knew their target frequented the bars on this street, and Q's job tonight was to simply catch his interest. He had tanner in his ear, Eve on his phone sending texts, and he wouldn't have been surprised if Bond was listening or watching as well. Though he was sure they were all bored out of their mind right now. There was no sign of their mark, and he was yet to be approached by anyone who might be involved in the ring. ...Or anyone, for that matter.

(OTA! Q is kinda on the job right now, so expect him to play a part, even if you know him. Your pup can be mistaken for the target, an associate of the target, or just get have a nice chat. If you're in the mood your character can even mistake Q for an actual possible victim/target. The choice is yours.)

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[raisedbycarnies]

Clint raised his eyes and put on an abashed expression, like he was afraid to be caught. He scanned through the crowd and his eyes landed just left of a man who was watching in their direction.

"On your seven," he said. "Tacky gold chain. I think you'd call him a chav?"

[quartermaster_q]

Q remained in character, smiling and leaning in to speak in Clint's ear. His body language wove tales of youthful seduction and innocent charm, his hand moving to Clint's shoulder and a smile resting on his lips.

"Interesting, but I'm not sure that's who I'm looking for. Buy me a drink, let's see if he stays interested. ...Unless you've got elsewhere to be."

Q would always be a slightly frumpy little boffin, no matter how many times someone had combed his hair today. However, he was actually quite good at this. ...No doubt a side effect of spending so much time with Bond.

[raisedbycarnies]

"Not your type?" Clint asked. He smiled and held out an arm, pretending to be funny and gallant but slightly buffoonish. It wasn't much of a stretch for him.

"I'm out tonight on intel. If something's going on then I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. What's your poison?" Clint nodded down where one of the establishments had raised their windows all the way up. Good access to the street.

[quartermaster_q]

"Tea, generally, but for the sake of my cover, a vodka and coke, I think," Q replied, still smiling as he made his way yo the bar, staying close to Clint's side.

[raisedbycarnies]

Clint nodded and kept settling into character, assembling his role piece by piece. Probably married–lovelessly–to a real short leash of a woman. Closeted (duh) and way more into himself than his date was into his wallet. Bless SHIELD and their generous per diem if he was going to play the part.

"Vodka and Coke for my date," he said, raising his voice half a decibel, pretending to advertise that he was still young and vital. "Beer for me."

[quartermaster_q]

Q smiled, that young and eager little grin, though the whole time he was watching the crowd around them.

[raisedbycarnies]

Really, they'd have to get SHIELD and Six working together. Or at least extend a hand to Q because Clint had to hand it to him, the guy was a great actor, if a rotten conscience. The latter wasn't a big deal, Clint already figured he was a dud as moral compasses went.

"What do you see now?"

[quartermaster_q]

"Pair of gentlemen near the doors. They seem interested. Older one bares a resemblance to a suspect. Silver hair near the temples, just under six foot, blue eyes, mole on his neck. ...The goal is to make contact, get some kind of in," Q replied, still smiling the whole time, speaking softly but gesturing as if he were telling a story. Something funny.

"I need to appear like a potential target. We need to know how they're picking their victims and how they're approaching them."

He smiled again, bright and innocent- A smile that very much did not match what he said next. "I absolutely hate doing this, and intend to exact careful revenge against everyone I work under for pushing me into this," he said cheerfully. "I'm thinking porn sites for home screens, emails that automatically attach gifs to themselves, the mating call of a peacock for their ringtones..."

[raisedbycarnies]

"So basically, I keep playing the creepy older dude and you're my midlife crisis?" Clint pretended to cup Q's cheek but mostly he was checking if he had an earpiece that needed hiding. "Look a little more vulnerable."

After a moment's pause, in which Clint was calculating every single trajectory in the room, he slid his hand down Q's shoulder and let it rest at his elbow. He hoped Q didn't think it was too forward because he didn't think he could cope with an inter-agency sexual harassment complaint right now.

"How bad is the mating call of a peacock exactly?"

Close quarters, lots of civilians. His gun would be a mistake, probably, and in this place, any arrow would have the force of a kill shot. Wrist-mounted crossbow and bow-turned-staff then.

[quartermaster_q]

Given that he worked with Bond, Clint would have to be halfway into actual foreplay before Q reacted poorly to his actions. ...And even then, it wouldn't be that bad compared to how some of the double-o's behaved.

"Quite bad. Bit screechy," Q replied, shifting his posture to make himself seem smaller, then moving away just a bit, as if he was suddenly unsure.

"Let's find a booth, somewhere we can see as much as be seen," he said as their drinks arrived. "Near the door, I think. We want to avoid a scene. If we manage to make contact and it goes south, this is a rare occasion where running is a better option than a fight. Yes?"

[raisedbycarnies]

Clint did always try to leave a phone number after. Maybe a gift. Maybe the peppermint he'd stolen from the restaurant in a pinch. But definitely a number.

"A booth," he agreed. "Very intimate. There's one there right by the door. Good people watching." Their drinks were on the counter and Clint made a show of taking both of them and being very solicitous. "Should I drug your drink? How sleazy am I tonight?"

[quartermaster_q]

"Less sleaze, more entitled, I think," Q replied pleasantly as they walked to the table and settled in. He didn't feel the need to offer more instruction than that, he was sure Clint didn't need his hand holding. Though he did appreciate the fact that the other agent asked for his input.

"At some point I'll give you an excuse to leave the table, offering them a chance to approach me," Q said, again casually obscuring his lips with subtle gestures, and smiling like a young man who was truly charmed. "For now, let's just see who's interested."

Leaning back in his seat, Q nudged Clint's foot with his own. "I suppose there's no point in me asking what you're in London for," he said, the real question gently clashing with his playful and flirtatious act.

[raisedbycarnies]

"I can pretend to call my wife. You probably don't know about her." Honestly, what he would likely do was call Nat (who was his work wife anyway) and apprise her of the growing situation. She did hate not to be in on the gossip.

He nudged Q's foot back and pondered his options for answering. "Mostly, I'm here to keep an ear on the ground." Being part of a vigilante group and also being 35% retired meant he was a little easier to turn loose on a place and assume that good information would follow.

"But if anything specific comes up, I'll be sure not to tell you."

[quartermaster_q]

"Rude," Q tutted, though his tone was light and the smile somewhat genuine.

[raisedbycarnies]

"Business," Clint replied. What kind of agents would they be if they traded information freely? This wasn't amateur hour and neither of them were amateurs.

"So I think how's a good time to call the wife. Tell her the kids are at cricket practice or something. Football? Or what?"

[quartermaster_q]

"Rugby, perhaps?" Q suggested, gaze flickering thoughtfully over Clint. "Take your time. hopefully someone will approach."

[raisedbycarnies]

"Isn't Rugby the one that's like football but with actual risk of injury?" He looked like the kind of guy who'd push his kids into that; it was the much-abused and many times broken nose.

"Right, better call wifey," he said, a little too loud. A little too American.

[quartermaster_q]

Q smiled dimly, nodding and deliberately looking a bit unsure of himself once he was alone.

It didn't take long at all for someone to approach, a man matching the description Q'd been given no less. He was pleasant, but his questions were telling. How long have you been in London? Why aren't you out with your friends? What of your family?

Q gave all the right answers, how he was new to the city, no friends yet, parents living abroad... The man was lapping it up, and offered him his number, urging Q to meet him tomorrow night. That was all he needed, and he glanced around to see where Clint was as he made an excuse to leave.

The man, however, didn't seem so keen on letting him leave just yet though, and when Q stood, the man caught his wrist in a tight hold.

One false move and his cover would be blown. He needed to leave, but he had to do so in a way that didn't seem suspicious or off.

[raisedbycarnies]

Looking through the window, Clint thought he saw the impending necessity of an extraction. Not even a SHIELD-level one but the sort of extraction female friends had sometimes requested with a date gone sour.

Raising his eyebrows, he made eye contact with Q through the glass and hoped Q knew enough BSL that he recognized what Clint was doing. Subtly, he put a a fist on top of a flat hand and gestured outward from his body. Did Q want help?

[quartermaster_q]

Q caught the look and the sign, and as he let the other man pull him back down into his seat, he offered Clint a subtle nod.

[raisedbycarnies]

Clint was damned agile, for all that he was compact, even bulky. Had to be if he wanted to keep up with gods and supersoldiers while he only had a bow and arrow to his name. He used that now to maneuver himself right behind the guy and glare down at Q.

"I take you out to dinner and you're already running out on me?" he asked, eyes narrowed and voice hard.

[quartermaster_q]

"We were just talking," Q said quickly, feigning nervousness.

It was enough to prompt the man to let go of the Quartermaster's wrist, and Q used the opportunity to get up.

"I'll make it up to you," he promised, getting up close and personal with Clint, one hand on the other man's chest. "We can leave, if you like."

There was an ever so slight look of thanks in the young quartermaster's gaze, and that part wasn't an act. He very much didn't like physical confrontation.

[raisedbycarnies]

"Of course we're leaving," he said, voice gruffer than usual. It was a pretty decent imitation of some of the guys in tracksuits that loitered around his building at home. Clint put on a snide look and glared at the man, committing his face to memory, and then took Q by the shoulder and steered him out.

"So do you need an escort to safety or whatever?" he asked, under his breath. "Or do you want to have a loud fight and split up? If it's the first, I know a place that does really good chicken tikka."

[quartermaster_q]

"I wouldn't say no to a meal," Q replied.

Though really, he just didn't want to risk being followed home by their target. Last thing he needed was Bond putting a bullet in the man before they had all the intel they needed.

[raisedbycarnies]

"Are we splitting the bill or am I still your date?" Clint asked, falling back into his usual cadence now, all traces of Mr. Rough and Possessive thrown away for now in favor of being himself.

Walking along, he turned right until he found the Indian restaurant he'd discovered the other night. "What'd you get out of the guy?"