selfhelp | [Voice/Action]

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[Okay, so. Post-draft, he's given himself a few days of seclusion and bed-rest (apparently being infected with a zombie virus is exhausting), and even Billy can freely admit to himself that he's been pretty depressed lately, a fact for which he feels no shame considering that depression was well and truly earned. One can only spend so much time fretting, moping, and dwelling on one's own misery for so long, however, and today? He's decided that enough is enough. Billy will be going out today, limping around the village and visiting the people who were on the draft whose fate he's still uncertain of. The ones he can't find or has no reason to actually visit, he'll check with a light location spell, and he'll spend a few hours at Seventh Heaven people-watching out the window while he doodles in a book that Teddy had given him containing a series of patterns (much like this) that resemble inkblogs, and bit by bit Billy's turning them into something like this instead. It's been a tiring week, though, so you could always catch him napping on the table, instead.

At some point he'll attempt to find Peter, and when both a location spell and a teleport fails, he tries to teleport to the apartment he'd been staying at instead, finding it almost completely emptied. All he manages to dig up is a small cartridge that, after a moment of scrutiny, he identifies as a web fluid cartridge. His fanboyish glee at the discovery is tempered by the fact that the empty apartment means one more piece of bad news.

After his visits and window-watching is done, he'll return home to make the announcement, along with one more message-]

Hey out there... just wanted to let his friends know that Peter Parker went home. So... sorry. Yeah.

[Locked to Loki]

...We still on for tomorrow, or do you want to take a break? Because... you know. [Draft. Awfulness all around. He wouldn't blame Loki if he wanted to take a week off.

Later on in the evening he'll be over at Ben's barbeque, if anyone wants to bother him while he's there.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Obviously caffeine addiction is the sign of a true hero.

[He starts to refill the coffee maker and pulls out another mug.]

My experience says yes to that one.

[Pushing off the frame, Billy limps his way over to the counter, leaning against it instead while he waits.]

Um- I know I was really... out of it when you guys found me, and I've been kind of a shut-in since then, but... thank you. You helped save my life, and Teddy's. We owe you one.

[Clint raises an eyebrow at the apology and then shrugs.]

You don't owe me anything. I'm glad that I could help you.

I'm glad you could, too. I'm just sorry I wound up causing a bad situation for everyone involved.

Unless you got yourself intentionally bitten, then none of it is your fault. It was war. Things happen. Don't beat yourself up about it.

...You're supposed to accept my thanks and apology graciously so we can all move on, you know.

[Seriously Clint, just let yourself be the Big Damn Hero, okay.]

...

[He smiles a little awkwardly and nods.]

Alright. Apology accepted. Let's forget this whole sordid business.

Better?

Much better. [Billy finally musters a smile in return and takes some coffee, sipping gingerly in case it's too hot.] Do I need to start writing you fanmail to get you used to being thanked all the time?

I think that might be taking things a little too far. I'd have to become a hermit and go and live in the mountains or something.

Are you sure? I've probably written a few hundred in my lifetime so far, I've got lots of practice.

[He lifts his mug in mock salute.]

"Dear Mr. Hawkeye, thank you for saving Manhattan (for the fifty-seventh time) from the latest alien invasion. I noticed you changed your costume again. Purple spandex suits you well. Your fan, Billy Kaplan."

[Purple... what?]

No. Stop right there. Spandex. I... spandex is never good.

I am quitting right now if I am required to wear spandex.

[Not that his outfit leaves much more to the imagination to be fair, but it's the principle of the thing.]

[He should really behave. Be nice. Clint shared his coffee.

....

Nope, nope, nope.]

Oh yeah. Lots of spandex. And a pointy purple mask. One costume design doubles really well as a party dress for teenage girls.

[Said in a voice that is dead serious because he is dead serious.]

[Just have Clint staring at you. In horror.]

That's it. I'm going back to the dark side. At least freelancers can wear whatever they want.

[Too much fun.]

I don't know about that one. I've heard your "freelance" outfit was pretty yellow.

[Truth be told Hawkeye's costumes have always been a little silly. It's just that some are sillier than others.]

[Thankyou Billy, you've just broken Clint's brain.]

Yellow... but... but how do you do anything stealthy wearing yellow? It's kind of the worst possible colour and...

[He's a terrible person like that.]

You're still thinking like a spy. Superheroes are all about flashy costumes, good style, showing up at the last second to save the day. Why do you think my cape's bright red?

It hides blood well?

...

Y'see... There have to be more efficient ways of doing this.

Besides, I'm pretty sure that I'd look terrible in yellow.

[Well now he's going to want to scour every inch of his cape to check for blood, thanks, Hawkeye ~~is this revenge~~]

I think anyone looks terrible in yellow. It hasn't stopped Wolverine, or a lot of other supers.

[Totally revenge, Billy.]

I think I'll stick with black for now. It's a classic after all.

[Ruuude.]

Can't argue with that. Cape aside, it's my shade of choice.

Suitable for all occasions, goes with everything.

Never hurts to spice things up a bit sometimes, though. Add a bit of colour here and there. Otherwise how do you stand out with your teammates?

Billy, I'm the guy with the weapon from the paleolithic. And the great arms. It's not easy to conceal carry a bow.

You'd be amazed at how easy it is to lose people in battle when you don't have hawk eyes.

Well, I suppose I do have an advantage there. There is always the argument tha in a firefight, I probably don't want to be seen.

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