"That's not bad." The voice behind Cissie might startle her, or not; Clint's well aware that archers tend to have very good perception, and Cissie's clearly one of the best he's seen. But he's got his own talents of moving around with such a soft step that he's basically a damn ninja, and he's been known in the past to take even other spies off guard with how he can pop up without them noticing. It's not something he tries to do, it's just something that happens at this point - and to be fair, it's something he's not taking any pains to mitigate in this city because he has absolutely no trust in why he (or anyone else) is here.
But he'd been out in the city, looking for Koenig Fitness and Recreation, the place he'd been told he was supposed to start working as a self-defense instructor in a couple of days, when he'd stumbled across Home on the Range, a place he completely hadn't been expecting. Back at home, archery was kind of a "fad" sport, though it was slowly getting more popular thanks to some prominent movies and even himself a little, so there weren't all that many places dedicated to simply practicing it. Those who used it for hunting tended to shoot in woods far away from other people, and he knew a fair number of gun ranges that had times set aside for archers, but only a few specifically for archery. The fact that there was a bows-only range in Dualis was a surprise, but one he'd been happy to see. Part of the deal he'd taken had been to not pick up a bow and shoot, but in practice it was kind of a moot point, and one that had never been enforced beyond a certain level. His own basic sets hadn't been taken away, and he'd been allowed to purchase ones for Cooper and Lila when they'd finally gotten old enough that he was willing to teach them. (Well, Laura had. Same thing.) His special, S.H.I.E.L.D.-grade equipment had been confiscated, but a normal bow and a standard arrow couldn't really do anything beyond shoot something, unlike Scott's Ant-Man suit, and Clint himself was the threat even without his weapons.
But a place here to keep his skills sharp was a blessing he hadn't expected, and Clint had immediately gone in and put down enough money for an hour's shooting and the equipment rental fee, no questions asked, despite the fact that it was the vast majority of the money in his possession. He'd get more soon enough; right now, he wanted to practice. The face of the woman behind the desk had been surprised verging on shocked when he'd asked for a compound bow with a draw weight of 200 pounds, but it had smoothed away quickly and she'd presented him with two to perform an arrowless, experimental draw on. The second felt better to him so he'd taken that one, she'd handed over a full quiver, and he'd gone up to the second floor, just in time to see Cissie performing what honestly looked like a weird (but somehow appropriate) cross between his and Nat's skillsets.
"You look pretty confident with what you're doing. Good to see someone who knows training's important." Clint's tone isn't in any way talking down, taking her less seriously because she's young and a girl; it's conversational, even lightly approving as he shrugs off his flannel shirt, leaning the bow against the wall so he can strap the quiver around his torso, slide the three-finger glove on his left hand, and then tie the arm guard onto his right forearm. The long sleeves would only get in the way, he's learned that well enough over the years. "A lot of people just wanna be elves or whatever now, they don't get that it's work to do something like that without a computer to help you."
B, of course
But he'd been out in the city, looking for Koenig Fitness and Recreation, the place he'd been told he was supposed to start working as a self-defense instructor in a couple of days, when he'd stumbled across Home on the Range, a place he completely hadn't been expecting. Back at home, archery was kind of a "fad" sport, though it was slowly getting more popular thanks to some prominent movies and even himself a little, so there weren't all that many places dedicated to simply practicing it. Those who used it for hunting tended to shoot in woods far away from other people, and he knew a fair number of gun ranges that had times set aside for archers, but only a few specifically for archery. The fact that there was a bows-only range in Dualis was a surprise, but one he'd been happy to see. Part of the deal he'd taken had been to not pick up a bow and shoot, but in practice it was kind of a moot point, and one that had never been enforced beyond a certain level. His own basic sets hadn't been taken away, and he'd been allowed to purchase ones for Cooper and Lila when they'd finally gotten old enough that he was willing to teach them. (Well, Laura had. Same thing.) His special, S.H.I.E.L.D.-grade equipment had been confiscated, but a normal bow and a standard arrow couldn't really do anything beyond shoot something, unlike Scott's Ant-Man suit, and Clint himself was the threat even without his weapons.
But a place here to keep his skills sharp was a blessing he hadn't expected, and Clint had immediately gone in and put down enough money for an hour's shooting and the equipment rental fee, no questions asked, despite the fact that it was the vast majority of the money in his possession. He'd get more soon enough; right now, he wanted to practice. The face of the woman behind the desk had been surprised verging on shocked when he'd asked for a compound bow with a draw weight of 200 pounds, but it had smoothed away quickly and she'd presented him with two to perform an arrowless, experimental draw on. The second felt better to him so he'd taken that one, she'd handed over a full quiver, and he'd gone up to the second floor, just in time to see Cissie performing what honestly looked like a weird (but somehow appropriate) cross between his and Nat's skillsets.
"You look pretty confident with what you're doing. Good to see someone who knows training's important." Clint's tone isn't in any way talking down, taking her less seriously because she's young and a girl; it's conversational, even lightly approving as he shrugs off his flannel shirt, leaning the bow against the wall so he can strap the quiver around his torso, slide the three-finger glove on his left hand, and then tie the arm guard onto his right forearm. The long sleeves would only get in the way, he's learned that well enough over the years. "A lot of people just wanna be elves or whatever now, they don't get that it's work to do something like that without a computer to help you."