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Atlas Gym, Friday

Clint was sitting at the front of the gym with his feet up on the desk and his laptop in his lap, catching up on all the archery he'd missed by not being willing to get up at four in the morning to watch it live. He was not at all bitter that SHIELD wouldn't let him even go to the trials, really. It wasn't like he could beat the pants off of the frat boys the USA had sent. Together. While blindfolded.

He'd probably look a lot less frustrated once he got to the women's archery feeds.

[Open!]

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Tyrion had read the paper, and -- while he wasn't actually offended by what he considered a logical consequence of going into battle -- it did seem worth talking to the marksman, if only out of curiosity.

"Hello," he said, wandering up to the desk. He'd never been in the gym before; it seemed worth exploring at a much later date. "I understand the arrow I took to the face was courtesy of you?"

Clint paused what he was watching when Tyrion came in, and winced when he realized who he was. "Ah, yeah, that was probably from me," he said. "You seem to be unharmed now though, thankfully."

"It healed as soon as the world changed back," Tyrion nodded. "There are no hard feelings; we were trying to blow up bits of your castle."

"Yeah, but you had good reasons to be blowing up bits of the castle. I have to say, looking back now, that was a pretty awesome move," Clint said.

"It did what we needed it to do," Tyrion nodded simply. "You aren't bad with a bow and arrow yourself, you know. I never thought I made for an especially large target."

"It's my particular skillset," Clint explained. "I've been shooting since I was little, so I've had a good amount of practice."

"I've been reading about military strategy since I was small," Tyrion explained with a nod. "Not quite the same as putting it into practice, but you pick up something that way."

"You clearly picked something up, to pull off that raid. It's nice to know we're on the same side now. Or, you know, again, now that everything's back to normal." Clint sighed softly. "I'm still getting used to how this place works."

"Let me know if you ever do," Tyrion said wryly. "I think if it ever gets to be exactly what I expect it's definitely time to go home."

A touch of unease traced its way across his face. "But that was ... worse than I've seen it. Even worse than when the universe was falling apart."

"Yeah, I heard about the universe nearly disappearing. I guess I figured that sort of thing wouldn't happen again." Clint sighed softly, looking thoughtful. "I think seeing the students fighting was the worst part, thinking back on it now. They're just kids, you know? They shouldn't have had to deal with that kind of thing."

"They wouldn't be children at home," Tyrion said quietly. "My brother became a knight at 15, and soldiers then were only a bit older. But this way may be a bit better." He scratched at his chin. "Kinder, anyhow."

"I'd say it's kinder, but a lot of the kids seemed to be holding their own. I don't know if it was because of how weird things were - they seem like a pretty formidable bunch," Clint said. "I only got to teach them once, I can't imagine what it'd be like all the time."

"Some of them are amazing," Tyrion answered briefly. "Some of them, it's like talking to stones. I think I find out something new from each of them."

He glanced about. "Do a lot of them come into the gym?"

"Not a lot of them, no," Clint said, shaking his head. "Or maybe it's just when I'm not here. I'd like to think I'm not intimidating. At least, not anymore."

"Not without your longbow in your hand," Tyrion agreed. "You look large enough to me, but most men do."

He paused. "I take it you used to be?"

"Well, I was certainly intimidating last week," Clint said, "and yeah I guess I used to be. I was a soldier but I'm... temporarily retired, I suppose."

"Until there's another war and you're needed again?" Tyrion guessed. "At least, that's why soldiers retire where I'm from."

"Something like that," Clint said, debating with himself for a moment about how much he wanted to say. "What happened last week... that wasn't the first time someone used me to hurt people, except the last time it happened, the people I hurt weren't magically okay again when it was all over. My people are rebuilding from that, and I think it's just better if I'm not there."

Peeta had no business being in a gym. He had actually never had been in one before and the only reason he knew they existed was because they showed where Tributes trained for the Games on the television sometimes. But he had done his research and he knew this is where Clint would be.

So he took a break from work and came in with a tupperware container tucked under one arm. "Um, excuse me."

He kinda felt bad for interrupting.

Clint bit back the unkind words he was about to direct to France, and paused the video. "Hey, hi. Sorry about that," he said, shutting the laptop for good measure. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so," he said. "You were the guy with the bow and arrows last week, right?"

"Ah, yeah," Clint said, recognizing the kid now that he had a better way to place him. "I'm sorry about shooting you and all. I know it didn't stick and everyone's sort of moving on, but I'm still sorry."

"Oh no, it's fine. I mean, it's not fine obviously, but I'm not gonna hold a grudge or anything," Peeta said, waving his free hand. "I'm Peeta, by the way. I don't think we met before the...yeah."

"Well Peeta, it's nice to meet you under these better circumstances," Clint said, smiling softly. "What have you got there?"

"Oh right." He almost forgot about that. He was used to hauling stuff around and he barely noticed something as light as cupcakes anymore. "I figured you'd feel bad about last week so I baked you something to make you feel better."

Because food equaled comfort to Peeta. He sat the container on the desk and opened it up, revealing some sprinkle covered cupcakes. "I figured vanilla was a safe choice since I don't know what you like."

Considering this was the second time they've met and everything.

Clint stared back and forth between Peeta and the cupcakes in confusion. "Uh, shouldn't I be the one giving you food as an apology? I mean, not that I would because my cooking skills are crap but--you made these yourself?"

Peeta nodded. "Baking's what I do best. It's the family business. And I work at Luke's in town so I have plenty of supplies available."

"I figured you'd feel pretty guilty. More guilty than you should be," Peeta said with a shrug. "I don't really need an apology, you obviously weren't yourself. None of us were."

"You're not the first person to tell me I shouldn't feel so guilty, but you are the first to say it with baked goods," Clint said, laughing and taking one of the cupcakes. "This is nice of you, thank you. The sprinkles are a good touch, I like those."

"Thanks, one of the guys at work suggested those," he said with a smile. "I kind of resort to baking when anything goes wrong. Nobody's complained yet so I figure it's the right way to go."

"Anyone who says no to a cupcake is weird. Or has some sort of illness, but luckily, that's not me." Clint licked at the sprinkles first because that was just how mature he was. "I'm still sorry about what happened, but I do feel better about it now, so thank you."

"You're welcome," Peeta said. "I'm always making cupcakes at Luke's on Fridays. More creative ones than vanilla. You're welcome to stop by any time."

"I think I might have to do that if they're this good all the time." Praise seemed like the best way to throw in a little more apologizing.

Natalie had no tupperware containers, nor had she ever taken an arrow to the nose. But she had her bag over her shoulder, and had very obviously not ended up running away for good.

She cast a mildly curious look around as she came in and walked up to the desk. "Hey."

"Hey!" Clint said, smiling as he looked up. "I see you made it back from the wilds of Montreal in one piece." Hey, it was a foreign country, it could have been crazy.

Oh he had no idea.

Natalie shrugged. "Well, no one tried challenging me into a fight." That didn't seem like a joke, and not just because she was deadpan at the best of times. Random, elaborate fights breaking out was a thing where she came from. "Guess it would have been in poor taste at a comedy festival."

"Did you have fun, then? Seeing something comedic and all?" Clint asked. "Probably a nice balance to everything happening here."

"It was okay." Mostly because she'd been there with her dad, but she wasn't going to admit that to just anyone. "But it's always good to not be in Fandom for a while. It's a little different from my Montreal."

As some might be able to tell from the need to call it her Montreal.

"You didn't miss anything exciting. Just a lot of drinking and repression." Wait, was that everyone's week, or just his? Maybe both. "I still say it's better than what came before though."

"What, all the brainwashing and fighting?" Natalie drawled, dryly. "Can't see why."

Yeah, this week had been much better.

Clint smirked at Natalie before setting his laptop aside. "So, what brings you by? Did you need my charming company after so long?"

"You sound like my little brother," Natalie noted. Whether she found that amusing was left up to guessing. "You told me to come by once I got back."

She hadn't meant to come by so soon after returning (since she still had her bag with her and everything) but eh, she'd thought she'd check in since she had places to go by in town anyway.

"Ah, so I did. Are you still interested in learning how to shoot? Or how to play with a bow on a rooftop without falling and breaking something you'll need later?" Clint asked. He would have understood if time away made her change her mind or something.

"I'm still interested." She didn't tend to change her mind without at least giving it an honest go at first. "Unless you'd like to take your offer back."

"I wouldn't have made the offer if I wasn't willing," Clint said. "With the caveat that I've never really taught anyone before. I mean, I've shown some people the very short basics, but that's it."

"I'm pretty good at asking questions," Natalie shrugged. She was kind of a natural student, really. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to getting useful information out of people."

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Atlas Gym, Friday

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