thearena | Don't you know to never split the party?

Entry tags:

Don't you know to never split the party?

Who| Bruce, Clint, and Tony Mingle
What| The last of the Avengers (still in their right minds) have been forced out of their caves. Now they need to take down mammoths and set up their own shelter.
Where| The woods and near the mammoth herds.
When| Week 5
Warnings/Notes| Animal death, discussion of dead friends probably.

Mammoths

The mammoths travel in herds, but sometimes there are stragglers that can be lured away. Bruce watches them from a very safe distance, just getting a feel for their behaviors. "They're skittish animals, but their eyes look like a possible weak spot. Maybe we could trip one up with well-placed branches."

Camp

There are the supplies they were able to save, but there's still a lot they weren't. Bruce is setting about replacing them with carving, butchering, tanning, and occasionally clucking over a wound that one of the others gets before cleaning it up.

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He works quickly and quietly, a strange focus coming over him as he does. Sometimes he's carving bones, sometimes he's sewing clothes, and sometimes he's struggling to tan and cut up pieces of the massive mammoth hide they got. They could set up a tent for all three of them, no problem, but he still feels anxious, and he still stays completely focused on his jobs. He doesn't like the way their numbers have been shaved down. He doesn't like all the faces that are missing.

Eventually, when it gets late, he gets ready to cook for everyone too. He doesn't even ask if he should. He just gets started, because work helps him and someone needs to feed them.

Like always when it gets to this point in the arena, Tony is also anxious. It's even more obvious than in the mall arena, simply because there is less to keep Tony occupied. When it comes to weapons in any form, it's obvious that Clint and Bruce have that covered. Even the tanning and hide work is all under Bruce's control.

In Tony's mind it doesn't matter how much they and the others have taught him so much in this arena, it still remains that Tony's skills here are either far less refined than others, or completely pointless. So he paces the caves when he isn't bothering the fire or just saying his thoughts out loud, generally aware that this is annoying but he know's Bruce is used to it and Clint's probably had to deal with worse on an op in some way.

When Bruce gets ready to cook, Tony settles near him, watching. If for no other reason he knows that Bruce could afford a little more attention for other things.
let's face it, when he has nothing to do Tony gets the kind of insecure where you don't want to intrude on anyone else's time in case he ends up frustrating them. Old remnants from his childhood that don't often see the light these days.

He watches Bruce work for a moment.

"So, if I ask what's for dinner, will I get 'the look'? Or have you managed to find some basil or oregano in the grass to add some extra spark?'

Bruce, while he doesn't show it too obviously, likes having Tony around. Tony's presence usually has a soothing effect on him, even when the man was actively trying to be irritating. Thus, Bruce gravitates towards Tony in times of stress, even if it's usually just by working closer to him.

"If you're hoping for basil or oregano, you're going to be very disappointed." He's making venison. The meat is already butchered, but right now, he's cutting off all the fat. "But I found some berries I know aren't poisonous, so that might add more flavor, if that's what you're worried about. Pass that bowl."

The bowl Tony happens to be sitting next to is actually a re-purposed animal skull with a makeshift berry marinade in it.

He pulls a face at Bruce telling him he'll be disappointed, if only because he was being told he'd be disappointed not because he was actually disappointed.

"Right away, Chef."

Tony smirks as he reaches for the bowl, looking in it before he starts to hand it over. Then realising it's too appetizing to let pass he actually doesn't hand over the bowl and sticks a finger in to taste instead.

"Huh."

Is all he says before dipping another finger in for more.

"Tony." Bruce smacks Tony's hand before taking the bowl himself, but his smirk betrays his good humor. "Don't eat the marinade before I have a chance to actually marinade the meat."

He puts the bowl to his side (the side away from Tony) before going back to cutting the fat. "I guess I should take that as a compliment, since that's going to be flavoring our dinner tonight."

Naturally, Tony takes a moment too look needlessly affronted at the hand smack.

"Really should have thought to make more then." He smirks back, he contemplates reaching around Bruce for more, but for now decides he can wait for it to come with the meat.

"I think with you, my dear doctor. I have never had to be concerned about how good the food is going to be. At least compared to me you're Gordon Ramsey... Wait, no the other one. Who doesn't shout so much."

"Tony, they're all chefs. Chefs yell at people. They have to take a class on it in culinary school." Oh look, a joke. He smiles at the compliment as he works, finally putting the meat into the marinade.

"I don't suggest you try eating any now until it cooks." The last thing they'd need would be Tony getting sick from eating marinade contaminated with uncooked meat.

Clint is a paranoid man. This is not really news, but it explains his actions; the way he scans surroundings, watches Tony and Bruce like he's no idea how to handle them, the way he sharpens his knife and disappears into the woods, emerging once more with food and water and a grim look on his face. Sure, it's not like three people is many, but Clint's used to the steady presence of Natasha and Coulson, STRIKE Team Delta working together like a well oiled machine.

This? This is new, and not necessarily in a good way. He's anxious, wound up tight at the ever present notion that people are watching his every move. He's a spy, an assassin -- Clint's not used to the scrutiny.

So today, as Bruce is carving pieces of bones, Clint disappears silently. He's scouting, trying to rid himself of the niggling sensation of eyes upon his back, but it doesn't work. Disappointed, but not surprised, he returns and settles in next to Bruce where he's moved on to trying to cut up and tan pieces of the mammoth hide.

"Need help, Doc?"

Bruce can understand that he's not the only one who's on edge. Clint has been steadily easing his way into the group, but he's a spy and his trust is hard won. Right now, he's without anyone who's truly trustworthy to him, and Bruce can empathize with the feeling.

"Yes, please," Bruce says as he eyes the hide. "I think it'd take more than just two people to properly tan this thing, but any hands I can get would make it easier. Have you ever tanned anything before?"

This is why Bruce is easy to get along with, he supposes. They coincide, steadily working closer, comfortable with one another. But he understands why Clint leaves, why he doesn't trust. Why he's on edge and paranoid. Doesn't mean Clint can't pretend like he's not.

"Nah, you're going to have to teach me." But he moves easily, muted humor in his gaze. There's a smirk, faint. "Be gentle with me."

Or not, really.

"I'll see what I can do," Bruce says dryly before offering Clint a knife. "I've cut off a bunch of pieces that we could get to work on. We need to cut all the flesh from the inside of the skin without cutting through the hide by accident."

Bruce finds a rock to sit on with a big sprawling piece of mammoth hide. This could be a tent. "I suggest scraping, but if you do cut through it by accident, I still have a needle and thread to fix it."

Clint's smirk eases, more of a grin than not, and he'd be surprised at how easily it is to find humor here. But Clint isn't, because he's long since lived through more than a few situations where the only way to keep on was to find humor in an awful situation. This, here, is easy and full of comfortable conversation, brief as it is.

He looks over, nearly gained knife in hand, and watches curiously as Bruce explains.

"Alright, but if I fuck up don't get mad." A quicksilver grin, but he perches on his own rock, easily, and gets carefully to work.

"Clint, look at all this." He makes a sweeping gestures at the hide. "You could fuck up half of it and we'd still have more than enough."

He gestures with his knife before he begins to scrape the flesh off of the hide. "Just don't fuck up all of it and I won't have to turn big and green."

It's a joke. Bruce made a joke about the Hulk. It's a miracle. Also a product of him not actually having to worry about that happening in this arena, but details.

"Don't test me, Banner." He teases, amusement resting easily on Clint's features. "My knife work's pretty good but you never know."

Besides that though, he definitely notices that Hulk joke, and he's grinning. Clint was always one to cope with things via jokes though, teasing, sneaky, more self-deprecating than a man with his skills has right to be. He's been better in the last few years, especially since he joined SHIELD, especially since -- well, its been a while. But he still recognizes someone cut of the same cloth.

At some point during the week, Tony received an interesting gift from The Signless of boots and Vodka with a note suggesting he keeps warm with some goofy emote. Tony barely gave the note any time before flicking it away.

Now, however. Tony is sitting by the fire, with his new boots snugly fit to his feet, and casually holds the bottle loosely by his side the lid long since gone though the contents haven't been all that touched just yet.

"I miss Burger King."

Is all he says before he tags a swig from the bottle while looking bored.

Tony might not have payed the note much attention, but he ought to have before he tossed it right at Clint's face. Idly, Clint reaches up and snags the offending piece of paper before it can hit him, and gives both note and teammate a dry look before setting it aside. It's easy to ignore, and so he does, turning his attention back to the knife made of smilodon tooth in his hand. It had chipped during an earlier hunt, and he's fixing it now, carving the edge, smoothing it out razor sharp and deadly.

He's focused intently, which is precisely when Tony kicks back and makes another comment and -- Clint looks up again, laughing a bit.

"Burger King? Of all burger places you chose that one?"

If Tony had even been aware of Clint catching the card he would have commented on it, or at least been both amused and weirdly proud. But he does smirk at Clint's comment.

"They're flame grilled."

He replies as if that was the most obvious reason in the world. After all, with all of Tony's money he's be able to eat a pretty ridiculous amount of burgers with different spins on them, from gourmet to fast food. To be honest he's not sure what it is about Burger King, he just likes them best. ~~Probably something about sponsorship.~~ He takes another drink from the bottle and looks at Clint.

"Are you saying there's a better restaurant to miss back home?"

Weirdly proud? Tony you're not his real dad, Hawkeye achievements are for the fulfillment of Hawkeyes only. Okay, no they're not. Still, Clint's eyeing tony like he's some strange never before seen specimen, knives still in hand. What will Tony Stark do next? Tune back in at ten.

But it's not like Clint can judge him, really, he practically lives off of junk food. Agent Barton, master assassin, junk food aficionado.

"Aren't Californians supposed to be all about In-N-Out, or something?"

"I was born in Long Island, Grew up in New York and then moved to California somewhere between graduating M.I.T and dad dying." Include the fact he went to boarding schools it's safe to say the Tony never stayed in any state too long.

"And I never said In-N-Out wasn't good. I'm just saying I'd take Burger King first." He pauses for a second. "They do do good fries, though."

Well, he didn't ask for the biography, dang. But Clint's brows lift, head cocked as Tony speaks. Yeah, okay, so Tony's a loser who moved a lot and has a taste for junk food that rivals Clint's, good to know.

"I'll take your word for it." He kicks back, thumb tapping against the tooth in his hand. "Never had In-N-Out."

He's just a poor farm boy, Tony. Teach him your ways.

"When we get back."

Tony declares and he doesn't look like he has plans to elaborate on if he means back in the Capitol, or back in their world. Though to be fair Tony could probably impress upon some young cook willing to impress the flavours and tastes he's after to at least taste as close to In-N-Out as he remembers.

Either way when called upon he could easily deliver for Clint.

Clint's gaze slots over, mouth curving in a grin. Doesn't matter if Tony means in the Capitol or back in their world, Clint's not entirely sure either. He just nods, fully expecting Tony to hold on to that, even if its not a promise.

"Yeah, alright. I'll hold you to it."

Blow his mind with your delivery skills.

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Don't you know to never split the party?

In the camp

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