I don't wanna be the center of anything [Open]

[dirtyredneck]

WHO: Daryl Dixon, Mako Mori + Open
WHERE: Porter Cities & The House
WHEN: All November
WHAT: Catch-All!
WARNINGS: References Zombies Walkers, Kaiju, Abuse, General Violence and Gore are likely in a few threads.


Convention Circuit - A porter city near you
Having finally said goodbye to his Government assigned job, Daryl now had the free time to pursue projects he wanted to. For the most part. He was, however, still a contracted spokesman for Bow-Man Hunting and Hunting Season was well underway. With it came a convention circuit.

Daryl hadn't given much thought to the clause in his contract that had to do with personal appearances. He figured that he might have to make two, maybe three in a year because how many conventions could there be? 70. There were 70 conventions that Bow-Man Hunting had booths at. Every. Year. 26 for just the hunting and fishing industry. Not the general populace and 'enthusiasts', just the industry. The other 44 were the 'fan' conventions for the rest. The people that liked to go out like Daryl used to, for a weekend or a week in the woods. Or who wanted to prepare for a disaster, called themselves 'preppers'. Or for the rich asshole 'survival enthusiasts' who treated it all like a game. Gun shows, even, since families were often dragged along and left to 'ooh' and 'ahh' at whatever was in the dealer's hall and they could make a quick buck selling older models there along with their knife lines.

The only good part about the personal appearance clause was that he wasn't required to be at any shows (barring health or other negotiated absences) that weren't at the Porter Cities. The bad part was that he was required to be there for conventions in the Porter Cities. Which was why he could easily be found (looking very uncomfortable and grumpy, with shoulders hunched and arms crossed) by his adoring fans (Dear Lord how the hell did shooting one guy in the ass and posing for a couple pictures get him this much attention?) as well as people who actually wanted to talk shop.

Please, please, please, for the love of whatever you find holy or sacred or just downright okay, give him a 'business' reason to walk away from those fans crowding the side of the booth, taking pictures, and generally harassing him with a barrage of half-shouted questions and attempts to get his attention.


Enchilada Night - The House - November 3rd (open party for The Group, tag around/threadjack as you like)
Official purchase date had been October 23rd. Keys were handed out starting on the 25th. Official move-in date hadn't really been decided, as Daryl was still figuring out if he wanted to live on the property 'full time' or stick to the De Chima place. Mako's increased presence in day to day activity was pulling him closer and closer to Nonah as they'd have an easier time working their own personal touches into a new place than one of them taking up space somewhere the other had already established. Plus the De Chima house didn't really have space for the ravens Daryl was only a week or so away from formally adopting. The House did. And more they could add on to, as well.

Hell, he had already decided to move and just hadn't emotionally accepted it yet. He liked his housemates. Clark was quiet, but friendly enough. Betty always showed an interest in him and he was going to worry about her like crazy with Bruce still gone and her not knowing what to do with herself. And Catherine? He'd made her one of his almost as soon as he'd met her. They were kindred spirits from worlds where life as it was known in this one had ended.

Daryl wasn't really able to do a 'clean cut', but he could try to make the move-in more concrete. No better way to do that than with food. And free food, to boot. His last day on the job at the Cantina he'd been assigned to became something of a welcome-home move-in party. The restaurant was sad to see him go, but the employees had liked him well enough to fudge a few numbers on the books with 'remakes' and 'expired product' to send him packing with a good two dozen fresh enchiladas, a pile of tamales, and a few elotes.

Made for a great mini-feast with the family that none of them had to do the work for.


Wildcard/OOC
Daryl will largely be around Nonah and De Chima during November. Heropa will become less of a haunt the further into the month we get. If you've got an idea for a thread, you can post it or PM me to work it out beforehand so we're on the same page. And if you'd like a specific prompt, PM me and I'll set it up in the comments.

Also, feel free to tag in whatever style is most comfortable for you, I have no problem matching!

Comments

[dirtyredneck]

"Fuck you," he snorted when Clint was close enough that he could talk with most of the fans not being able to hear. Too much chatter from the small crowd drowning each other out and making it so the words they exchanged were largely unintelligible to all but maybe the front row. Maybe.

Daryl crossed his arms and gave Clint a quick once over, before jerking his head at the back of the booth and the display there, "You were lookin'. You're into this, right?"

Mako had mentally compared the two of them. And even if Daryl hadn't seen much of the other man, he could recognize when someone had more than a passing interest in equipment. And hell, if he was 'talking shop' with a potential buyer, the company reps wouldn't give him shit about ignoring the dedicated fans for a bit.

[pretendtoneedme]

The line of employees clearly didn't want to let someone unknown just stroll up to their cash cow, but after a minute of awkward shuffling they parted to let him through. It undoubtedly helped that Clint wasn't one of the slavering fans who'd likely tear Daryl's vest off if they could, and Daryl seeming to know him was probably the deciding factor. Safe enough to let him in - after all, most of the devoted following just wanted to look, not buy.

In response to Daryl's question, Clint held up his hands, turning them to show the bowstring callouses on his fingers. He of course had the proper gear to protect himself, which was why he didn't have string welts on the insides of his arms, but he didn't always wear it when he practiced or even when he fought. "Learned to shoot when I was fourteen, and I just never stopped. I guess you could say I'm into it."

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl's eyes darted to the calluses but they returned to Clint's face quick enough. He'd seen similar enough that it wasn't impressive, just indicative of how regular a person went shooting. Clint did it weekly, if not daily.

"What kinda poundage you used to?" he asked, hands going to his hips as he shifted his weight on his feet. Then his arms dropped to his side and he headed to the other side of the booth. A quick wave of his fingers to indicate Clint should follow. Crossbows were on display where Daryl had been standing. But bows were on the other end. And Clint's hands said he was a bow-man bowman. Not really into crossbows the way Daryl was.

He looked over his shoulder to make sure Clint stayed with him. If he had to talk mostly-shop to get out of dealing with the fans, he would. Outside the booth, the small crowd shifted down the isle to follow the two. Phones were out and pictures were being snapped.

[pretendtoneedme]

Clint followed, but not before looking the crossbows over before he left. He had nothing against crossbows, liked them a lot in fact, but for someone who was literally fighting for his life in his regular job more than he wanted to admit, they were just too slow. Sure it took time to draw, nock, and launch an arrow, but it took more time to crank or pull the string back to ready and set a quarrel in the slot, time he just didn't have most days. Didn't mean he couldn't use them, and use them quite well, but it did mean they weren't his first preference.

"Pretty heavy - over two hundred pounds," he answered as he followed, eyes passing over the equipment he was seeing. Stupid magazine ads with reluctant models or not, they did make good equipment. Not at S.H.I.E.L.D. level since they didn't make trick arrows, but their standard arrows looked like a pretty good match. "Mostly I stick with compound, but I've used everything anyone in Europe came up with. Banner made me a bow when I got here, mine didn't come over with me." Because it had been snapped in pieces by vibranium claws and so hadn't been stored with the rest of their gear, but details. "It's not bad, but weapons were never really his thing, so I was looking around."

[dirtyredneck]

"Bow-Man offered to make a crossbow how I wanted one as part of the endorsement offer," Daryl said as he reached out for one of the higher-weight compound bows and took it off the display like he had every right to it. He didn't, not really, but no one was stopping him and he handled it like he knew what the hell he was doing. Probably had to do with him being the public spokesman and telling him he couldn't be seen with the product would be counter-productive.

"We're still working on the specifics, but once the prototype's done, they'll be selling similar ones. Ain't perfect, but they'll do custom work for decent if you're interested."

He held the bow out for Clint to try so he could continue to have an excuse to stay 'busy' with him, "And I get a lifetime supply of bolts."

[pretendtoneedme]

"It sounds like you get a lot of perks with this endorsement - free gear, good bows, adoring fans asking you to sign their breasts..." Just... let him do it, Daryl, Clint's a troll. It's easier to just let him get it out of his system because otherwise it'll bottle up and only get stronger. Just ask Steve.

Clint took the bow while he was speaking, automatically settling into his normal "at ease" stance, right foot slightly forward and body turned enough that it would be easy for him to swing into action and get a shot off in less than a second if he had to. He'd trained himself to be ambidextrous, but his dominant hand was still his left, so after hefting it to test the balance it was transferred to his right and he raised it to a shooting position. Whatever uneasiness any of the Bow-Man guys had at some unknown handling their product was most likely swept away at his expert handling of the weapon and the ease and precision of his stance as he pulled the string back to test its draw; his spine was absolutely straight, his left arm directly parallel to the floor as he drew back, the string notched exactly against his cheek for just a second in the absence of a real arrow. This definitely wasn't anywhere near the first time he'd handled a bow.

"Kind of light," he said, relaxing the draw and letting the bow lower to "rest" position, "but yeah, that's pretty good. You trying to get me to join you in this mess or what?"

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl froze for a moment at the breasts comment, eyes locked on Clint and narrowed like he couldn't figure out if he honestly believed that was a perk or it was a joke. A soft 'pfft' left his mouth a second later and he averted his eyes, ducked his head, then glanced back again just to make sure it was meant to be a joke. Because Daryl didn't find it appealing at all. Or very funny.

He lifted his chin and made note of Clint's clear familiarity and skill, then shook his head at the question. No doubt the company men were thinking about it, assuming they could find anything sensational enough that Clint had done to draw attention to his archery skill. But Daryl wasn't actually looking to recruit.

"Nah," he answered, holding his hand out to take the bow back. "I signed two years of my life away to it. No reason for you to make that mistake." It was a joke this time. Wry humor. Daryl was annoyed at some of the contract details, but the job had allowed him to get enough money to make the new mortgage and buy a second bike. Wasn't all bad.

"But if you're lookin' for anything, I could talk to 'em about it."

[pretendtoneedme]

Oh, it was a joke, and the smirk at the corner of Clint's mouth plainly painted it as such. He'd had personal experience dealing with the crazy fangirls - hell, he'd developed his on entrance to the Tower to avoid the cosplay bunnies that liked to hang out outside the doors and wait for Steve or Tony to appear - and he wasn't about to actually wish that on anyone save someone like Tony, who thrives on that kind of attention. Daryl clearly was not one of those people, otherwise he wouldn't have almost jumped on Clint when he'd seen the man he'd only met once passing by.

Anything the Bow-Man people would look for, there wouldn't be a lot of it. He'd been purposefully lying low since coming to this world, and his major contribution so far (fighting along Bruce and saving Betty) during the Superior Iron Man fiasco in September, had happened during a whole bunch of other crap and without good documentation so people just didn't know him. Truth to tell, he was more than happy with that - it was much easier to do his job when he wasn't instantly recognizable. Any of his jobs.

"Yeah - the bow I had got broken not long before I came here, and I didn't have time to get it replaced." Or to just fetch another one, he had at least five at home, but he'd been in maximum security prison only hours before transferring over. "And arrows. Got some from some hunting stores, but..." He shrugged. They worked fine for normal hunting, target practice and the like, but he missed his trick arrows. Not that these guys would likely be able to make those.

[dirtyredneck]

"Don't sound like you like 'em," he said with a knowing look. Daryl himself was okay with the lifetime supply of bolts, but there was still something about making his own himself that he found appealing. Mostly in that he could trust them more. And if they didn't hit, or if they broke, it was his own fault for making them bad. "Could talk them about getting you something custom. Know things ain't exactly the same world-to-world. Took me ten days of talkin' just to get them to give up on putting a god damn laser sight on the bow they're makin' for me. Everyone in this place gets a kick outta those things and all it does for me it make me easier to find when I don't wanna be found."