2012-08-11 One Day At The Range

The firing range is typically filled with the sound of firearms, both small arms and rifle bursts. Today though is different, as a group of SHIELD agents are crowded around one stall in particular, each watching in general silence, all eyes on one target. Namely the one that is Clint Barton is shooting at, with arrow after arrow. The first shot is a direct bullseye in the chest of the human-shaped target, followed by a series of ten more arrows, each following a perfect circle AROUND the center. Even more impressive? Each shot is taken with a matter of seconds between each. After the final arrow finds its mark, the onlookers burst into appreciative applause, as Clint pushes a large control to get the target sheet to pull towards him.

Sharon arrives just as the applause starts, that along with the number of people milling about a bit surpriing. "So much for a quiet afternoon..." she grouses to herself. At first there's an urge to pick the lane furthest from the commotion which then turns into her being too curious and she too moves towards where the archer and the observers stand.

The result of Barton's talents has her raising a brow in surprise and a faint grunt sounds, the latter getting her to blush slightly when several of the SHIELD personnel catches it and chuckles.

"I think Thirteen's jealous of his skills," one man calls out. It gets a few whoops and peals of laughter from his buddies. All Sharon does is sigh and roll her eyes in good-natured, feigned bemusement.

Sharon arrives just as the applause starts, that along with the number of people milling about a bit surpriing. "So much for a quiet afternoon..." she grouses to herself. At first there's an urge to pick the lane furthest from the commotion which then turns into her being too curious and she too moves towards where the archer and the observers stand.

The result of Barton's talents has her raising a brow in surprise and a faint grunt sounds, the latter getting her to blush slightly when several of the SHIELD personnel catches it and chuckles.

"I think Thirteen's jealous of his skills," one man calls out. It gets a few whoops and peals of laughter from his buddies. All Sharon does is sigh and roll her eyes in good-natured, feigned bemusement.

Barton admires his work. Or really, judges, as one of the arrows was ever-so-slightly off of the mark. Still not perfect. His time away has made him rusty. Judge judge judge.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears conversation move behind him, some of the agents beginning to disperse back to there stalls. He waits for a second before approaching the one who called out, making very direct eye-contact.

"Show some respect for your fellow agent," he deadpans. "She's higher rank than you, and certainly has more field experience rook. So I wouldn't exactly be talking crap. Understood?"

The ribbing was meant as a joke but even then the laughter dies quickly and Sharon's apologized to before the group dispurses, it soon no one but Hawkeye and the female agent left. On Sharon's part she can't help but to smirk. "I think you enjoyed busting their balls," she is quick to say, her own attempt at a joke.

Stepping around Clint, she takes a turn at appraising the target, the smile slipping some as she takes in the subject of the archer's expert aim. "They are right, though. I am a bit jealous. That's some nice work, there." After that's said she glances over her shoulder, her eyes seeking his.

Clint keeps a straight face for a few moments, until the general crowd his dispersed, cracking a slight smile at Sharon's accusation. Shrugging, he crosses his arms over his chest. "I believe probies should respect experienced agents," he says earnestly. "If it gives me the oppurtunity to be a jerk in the process, all the better. Gotta get steam off somehow."

When she moves to admire his work, Clint's smile fades slightly. He remains quiet for a bit before he moves forward to retrieve his arrows from the sheet. "I've done better," he says solemnly, not exactly making eye contact at the moment.

"Don't see how you could," Sharon says while reaching out, about to pull one of the arrows free from where it had hit its mark. "Or are you one of those perfectionists? You know. Someone who is never happy no matter what?" The arrow finally comes out of the target and is held out, offered to its owner along with a half-shrug. "To be honest, I can be like that myself. I'm just... not as good." Which means she spends entirely too much time obsessing.

That causes Clint to make eye contact, lifting a single blonde brow slowly. "I can be happy," he says, perhaps a bit defensively, before pulling out and quivering the final few arrows, taking a step back from the spot in case Carter plans to take the spot. "Like when it's perfect. Then I'm happy." There is a slightly amused smirk. Yes, he's hard on himself. "And I've read your reports, Carter, so don't give me that woe-is-me fishing for compliments. I have spent my entire adult life and then some with a bow in my hand, I'm naturally going to excel at that. There are plenty of things I'm not perfect as. Such as..." he starts, then puts on a faux-thoughtful expression.

Sharon shakes her head, trying very hard not to laugh. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you're absolutely great at everything you do, Hawkeye." Yes, she knows of him, having gone through his file in the past when researching old missions. "So what brings you back home? Ran out of people to shoot and things to explode?"

When Clint moves she takes his place; pistol unholstered efficiently, she puts the clip in and sets it aside so she can put up a target for her own use.

Seeing the gun coming out, Clint quickly reaches for a pair of the dampening headphones he brought with him to the range, setting them atop his head. His hearing is already bad enough, no need to make the situation worse. "Finished my undercover case, filed my report, back on active duty," he says as he leans against a wall. "Also met the charming Rusky you and Cap picked up, Thirteen. He may or may not have shoved a gun in my face." Yeah, he sounds real thrilled about that.

Takes Sharon a moment to realize just whom is being referred to but she doesn't comment on the subject of the Winter Soldier just yet. She instead takes the time that would be spent saying something to put on the protective ear gear and push the button on the target control, sending it about 10 meters away from where they stand.

"Sorry that he did that," she says sincerely while trying to look down the lane, squinting slightly before sending a volley of three rounds off. They hit close to where she was aiming but they were nowhere near as close to their mark as Clint's arrows were to theirs.

Clint nods his head. "Me too," he mutters to himself, though it is mostly drowned out by the trio of shots. He squints slightly himself to see where they landed, before offering helpfully, "Make sure your shoulders keep square, pause and adjust between shots if you need to. The recoil is causing your alignment to shift, because your first shot is dead on."

Sharon adjusts her position, her shoulders shifted and her body relaxing before she tries again. This time the results are a lot more favorable. Grinning, she cocks a look at Clint as she considers him. "It's going to take some time but after some work I'm sure he'll be a lot... less likely to pull weapons on you."

The pistol is set down once the safety is turned back on, left to sit while they talk. "So are you going to be staying around for a while, Barton, or are you just hanging out here until you get another mission?"

Clint watches the results ad smiles a bit himself. Always nice when he's right, even if it's not just about himself. His head shifts to look towards the shooter as she mentions the visitor getting better. "Well I already had my heart to heart with him," he says ominously, crossing his arms over his chest. "He knows what happens next time he points a weapon at me."

He raises a brow at the second question. "Typical rules apply. Here as long as I am needed, elsewhere when needed." He pauses a bit, before adding, "I'd rather stay here. The undercover gig can be a real bore, real fast."

"Maybe we will get assigned to some covert op or something together," Sharon says casually, the ease in which she does so making it sound like she's talking about the weather. "And who knows? Maybe we will get to go to somewhere exotic."

The gun is picked back up and she swiftly empties it, the raport of the weapon being fired repeatedly near-deafening if one's unfortunate enough to be without the 'muffs'. The button for the target control is slapped at, bringing it closer, and then the clip is ejected from the gun. Looks like target practice is over for now.

Clint raises an eyebrow at that. "Mayhaps. It would be nice if Hawaii had some international threat, but I kinda doubt it. Madripoor is nice this time of year though," he says, waiting for to take aim before adding, "And I'm sure you looking stunning in a bikini."

Whether the comment is meant to distract her or not, Clint seems to have been unnsuccesful. As the target practice near, he actually gives off an impressed whistle, pulling closer and pointing at the points of entry. "See, after your intial volley, you watches your shoulders and you have this nice square shape. Never underestimate recoil, it will be the difference between an angry bad guy and a dead bad guy."

Sharon smugly smiles but just to what she is doing so is nigh impossibly to tell. Could be the comment about her in a bikini or how well she did that time. Whatever it is, she just can not keep the Cheshire Cat-esque smile from her face. "Well, let's run it up the CoC. See what Fury will give us." But with how fickle Fury's mood can be, they stand a better chance of being sent to Antartica instead of somewhere warm and tropical.

That suggestion gets a visual wince from Clint as he moves and leans against a far wall. "Oh sure, let me talk to the Boss. 'Hey, Patches, think you could hook up Sharon and me on a mission somewhere with lots of beaches and little umbrella drinks? I think we're both due.'" He pauses, pointing a single finger gun at Sharon. "And if you tell him that I called him that, they'll never find the body," he tells her, mock-menacingly.

That gets Clint laughed at, his threat especially humorous. "Oh no. He won't hear it from me if he does," Sharon promises as she holds her hands up, palms facing outward as if surrendering to the archer. "Seriously, though. Probably best not to tempt fate." Looking around, Sharon stoops down, polices her brass and then reholsters her pistol. "Thanks for the advice, by the way."

"Hey, I'm always available to help a fellow agent in need," Clint says as he moves towards the shooting position, pulling out a fresh target and attaching it to the proper mechanism. Once the target is in the proper place, he pulls out his bow and grabs another of his arrows, clearly attempting to improve his previous runs. "Anything you need--besides asking the Boss for a vacation, that is--just let me know," he says as he pulls back the bow string, steadying his aim for the moment.

There's a fluidity to Hawkeye's motions that she can't help but to appreciate, it different from how she moves. "Nah, I think I am good, thanks. I should let you get to that," she offers with a gesture towards his bow and then the target. "But hey, I'll be around later. Maybe we could sit and talk over a cup of SHIELD coffee."

A few more moments of positioning his shot, holding a firm but relaxed position for a few more seconds before it happens. A flurry of six arrows, five circling the first again, that are all done in what feels like one fluid motion. Yep, it is pretty spectacular, and yet he makes it look so easy. Years of practice will do that. He grins and nods his head as he glances towards Sharon. "Sounds like a plan, Agent. Shall see you around." He offers a snappy two-finger salute before steadying his next round of shots.