[ Clint's no stranger to Concordia's streets by now. He's spent months out here, watching people from rooftop, slipping through streets like the shadow he could now become. It's nothing he hasn't ever done before, learning new cities in the grasp of a mission. But there's something -- cleansing about seeing the city under revelry. It's no different from any other holiday back home, nothing less than an excuse to drink and be merry, and Clint slips through it easily. Garners a couple ribbons with an amused smile, wrapped around wrist and bicep.
Still, the flicker of Bellamy's thoughts reel him in, punch-drunk, something he can't help but follow. It takes a little longer than usual, winding through the crowd, careful in only the way a trained assassin could be.
But eventually, eventually, Clint rolls up to where Bellamy stands, watching a painfully familiar game. Clint never went to college -- but hell, he's more than familiar with the age old drinking game. There's a grin, even as he reaches out and flicks one of the ribbons wound through dark curls. ]
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Still, the flicker of Bellamy's thoughts reel him in, punch-drunk, something he can't help but follow. It takes a little longer than usual, winding through the crowd, careful in only the way a trained assassin could be.
But eventually, eventually, Clint rolls up to where Bellamy stands, watching a painfully familiar game. Clint never went to college -- but hell, he's more than familiar with the age old drinking game. There's a grin, even as he reaches out and flicks one of the ribbons wound through dark curls. ]
Looks like you're havin' fun out here.