One stroke at a time
Current mood:  working

A bar. A familiar crowd of people that Clint has become accustomed to hanging out with. A drink in his hand that he really has no business holding. All of this equals into a fucked situation that he really wants to get out of before something else shitty happens to him. To make matters worse, there's a petite but gorgeous redhead at a table in eye's view of the bar that keeps feeding him shots on her tab. His hormones are kicking in and his eyes drift over more frequently with each shot he downs. He's at the point now that he can't tell if she's really smoking hot or just a resemblance of something his mind is imagining for him. More than likely however, it's the later. 

Lifting his hand near his face, Clint slaps the shit out of himself, then stands while reaching to his wallet, pulling out a few hundred dollars bills. He places them on the table and leans over to the bartender to speak. 

"Cover all of the drinks she bought me and hers for the night Billy. I gotta get out of here before I do something I'll regret in the morning." 

Billy grins at Clint and then looks over at the lady. 

'Your loss lad...I'll make sure ta take care of her for ya. Literally.' 

Billy flashed Clint a wink of his eye and pulls the two bill off the bar into his left hand. Clint laughs and taps Billy on the shoulder, even as he slips his wallet back into his back right pocket. 

"You do that man...see ya tomorrow." 

Billy replied with a sheepish laugh. 

'Aye boss. Enjoy ya ev'ning.' 

The bell above the tavern's door rang as Clint exited and he placed his hands in the front pockets of his blue jeans. After he had had relocated to Manhattan, he still made this long ass walk across town every night when he wasn't out pretending he was making a difference in saving the world. It was only three or four miles but it felt like an eternity on some nights. Yet, it was his time and he gained a clarity on his thoughts during this time that he otherwise never would have. Maybe it was just his chance to feel like a normal guy that made it all appealing, or maybe it was just what it really was when it came down to it, it was his escape from everything that seemed to fuck him up the ass at one time. 

A few months ago, it was Bobbi delivering him the finalized divorce papers. A month ago, it was Cherry popping in his life and throwing him a curveball with all the Bro brother shit. One week ago, it was Jess pretty much slapping the shit out of him emotionally. Yesterday, it was Kate leaving for God knows where and taking the only other friend he felt he still had in the world with her, his dog Lucky. 

Yes. It's a pretty fucked up world when even a dog he had bonded with bails on him. 

It's part of the reason though when it all comes down to it, when he feels like the world has let him down, he comes to this place. District X was his home for so many years before the riots and fire broke out years ago. The place never actually came back the way everyone said it would. Maybe that was the reason Clint felt the way about the city now the way he did, why he paid it a visit every night when he could. It was kind of a kindred spirit. Broken but still alive while trying to find out where it belonged in the world. Many had moved on from the city, much like many had moved away from Clint's life. Both were picking up the pieces and slowly moving forward into an unknown future. 

When the time came, and it would come eventually. Clint was going to come back to District X and help rebuild. He had all but made his mind up on that at that very moment. He had a lot of scars in here but it was still the only place he felt at home at now. Manhattan had the bright lights but DX had his heart. The pieces were still there. All he had to do was begin painting the picture again, one stroke at a time.