hasthehighground | Kind-of-an-OOM: Car adventures!

She gives him such a look for that - if he's going into the field, she's going into the field. He's the one who has the know-how to get them out, she learned that lesson too, she's sticking close.

"Because staying behind is such a good idea." She huffs, and reaches for the door handle.

Clint shrugs, holstering his P30 as he stands. He doesn't bring the knife; he has an all-purpose one in his pocket, and it seems like overkill for foraging in an open field.

The grass comes up to mid-calf. Clint doesn't shrug, just starts in. "Keep an eye out for snakes."

"Okay, snakes, keeping an eye out for snakes." She agrees, tentatively following in his wake.

After a few minutes of looking at everything with a low-grade sort of horror, she pipes up again.

"Clint, what's a snake?"

"Oh." Clint stops, turning around. "They're little reptiles with no legs. They're short, so grass like this'll hide them a bit, but they're not a big hazard." He considers this, then doesn't amend it. "They just bite if they think you'll step on them."

That earns a quick squeak, more reminiscent of a second grader than a grown woman, and Oswin is now staring at the ground warily.

Snakes don't sound good.

After a few more minutes, she pipes up again, hesitantly.

"And the big... flappy things? Do they bite too?" She'd probably be doing better if she'd ever gone outside while in the bar. This is... all a bit new.

Clint's inside the jeep. It's almost emptied out, like whoever abandoned it here, its undercarriage caught on a small boulder, made sure to pack everything up beyond the owner's manual and a small flashlight. He's checking the batteries on the light when Oswin asks.

He sits up, looking to where she's pointing, then laughs. "Those're butterflies. They just look pretty and eat flowers." Though these ones are really big.

He climbs into the back, to look under the tarp that's been stashed.

Oh, well. That's not too bad. She can deal with creatures that are just... pretty. And so far there's been no snakes, so, that's good too. The longer bad things fail to happen, the less fear gnaws at her, and the more she can appreciate that yes, this is a very pretty field.

"... Clint?" The last two things she asked about weren't much of a concern, and this probably isn't either, but... it seems like it might be.

-- Huh, a tackle box. Clint pulls it out.

"Yeah?" He stays under the tarp, looking for flares -- the busted flare gun isn't much good on its own.

The butterfly is long gone, but Oswin hasn't noticed. She's too busy staring, trying to figure out how... that works. How does it even... be?

"Clint?" She calls again, her pitch rising as she can feel minute shivers under her feet. "Clint, what do I do if it goes towards the car?"

Clint sits up, considers this, then scrambles back out of the car with the tackle box. Before he can ask for clarification, there's a noise like the whole brass section of a marching band in the distance.

On the other side of the field, across the road, there... well, there are two dinosaurs. One's pulling leaves off of a tree, and the other is trotting over to join it.

Clint swallows, and his muscles loosen as he takes a deep breath. He knows where he is. The 90s-style abandoned jeep, the oversized butterflies and ferns and road going to weed. If Batman's real somewhere, why not Jurassic Park?

"Okay," he says, as evenly as he can, "let's go back to the car."

"For the record," She calls as she heads back to the car - not quite at a run because really, running towards giant lizard things seems like a bad idea but walking seems too slow so really it's just all kinds of awkward and indecisiveness, "I know that tone of voice, I am not a fan of that tone of voice, and it'd be awesome if there's somewhere nearby where that tone of voice really isn't needed."

Edited 2013-09-11 08:07 (UTC)

"Yeah," Clint says, scanning the rest of the field constantly, checking back on the -- brontosauruses? that feels wrong, but it's all he can think of -- dinosaurs to see if they're still calm. "I don't know if there is. Do you have anything from Milliways with you?"

"Just the tablet." It's a reply that implies she really hasn't gone anywhere without her computer if she can help it, so it's kind of a given. She's also trying to step over the gravel on the edge of the road without crunching, but it's really not working. How good's the hearing on giant lizards?

"They're not the issue," Clint says, putting his hand lightly to the back of her shoulder, surveying the field behind them. Every movement seems dangerous, but he hasn't yet picked out a pattern that'd suggest predators. "I'll explain in the car."

She jumps under his hand, in the way she'd like to claim she was to experienced in 'all things go to hell' to have done, but has anyway. She does, however, get the idea that picking up the pace is wanted here, and she's already learned that he's totally the boss here, so.

She hustles.

"Also, for the record, not reassuring. Terribly poor marks on reassuring, this is going on the review."

"I'll make a note." Once they're in the car, he puts the tacklebox in the back (though he doesn't want to even consider fishing at the moment), and waits for Oswin to shut her door, then locks them in.

"We need to get back to Milliways ASAP. Those are dinosaurs, which don't live on Earth anymore. Some scientists brought them back in a movie that looks a lot like this place, and fictional doesn't matter in Milliways." He breathes. "That type eats trees, but some-- well. I can't really be reassuring."

This is why he doesn't work with civilians.

"... This movie sucks." Oswin declares, after considering the implications of that. "Tell me they're not as big as that. The ones that don't eat plants. Lie if you must."

"They aren't." Faster, scarier, full of sharp teeth -- yes. Larger? Not that he remembers. Clint props himself up a little, unholstering the P30 again. He digs into his pocket after it's set aside, handing oswin a little case. It's the storage case for his hearing aids, but it has two earplugs inside. "If I have to shoot something, you'll want to put these in. The ear closest to me first. Okay?

I think there's some sort of port off the island they used when the system controlling the fences was turned off."

He starts up the car.

She nods compliance, but there's a question there, in the frown lines between her eyebrows and the tilt of her lips, one that gets utterly erased when she hears about a system controlling fences.

"... Computer system?" She already has her tablet out and powering up, because even if it's utterly futile? Doing something suits her hell of a lot more than sitting and waiting to be rescued.

"Yeah. Really advanced, for 20 years ago." He glances over at her. "I... don't think they'll be remote-accessible." But he's not the computer expert, Natasha is.

He breathes a laugh. "Jurassic Park. She's going to kill me.

"Bah." She huffs at him, because she's already commandeered a couple satellites and has seduced them into doing terribly naughty things their creators never dreamed of.

(And she'll never, ever, ever say, but damn it feels good to hack into a system again.)

"She? There's a she now, how exciting." She's teasing, which is a fairly good indication of just how focused she can get on her computer work and how at home she feels with it.

He snorts, distracted by the fact that no terrifying dinosaurs have appeared yet. That's a good thing, but it doesn't stop him from feeling like he's in a horror movie.

"You know, Dee?" He considers this. He's not actually sure if he's mentioned Nat to her. "My wife's a big fan of dinosaurs."

"You'll have to bring her back a picture or something." Oswin replies, typing furiously away at the digital keyboard on the screen. "Or maybe there's a gift shop..." She suggests, before breaking off into a low, ridiculously pleased laugh.

"Oh, that's good. Tell me I'm clever." Oswin purrs, having almost entirely forgotten possible imminent death by non-plant-eating-reptiles. "So very, very clever."

"Incredibly clever," Clint says, slowing as a much smaller dinosaur, still taller than the car, steps out into the road in front of them. It turns to make eye contact.

Clint remembers this part; he doesn't even look for the other two, just shifts into reverse. "Hold on."

He looks behind them, pressing the gas down until they're out of the triangle of raptors, lets off the gas and pulls the steering wheel around. The tires squeal as the car turns in place, and he quickly adjusts them back into forward gears before hitting the gas again.

Velociraptors.

She squeaks in alarm, clinging with one hand to the door. She goes silent though, when they slide past the two flanking velociraptors, their dagger-like claws on clear display. She twists in her chair when they turn, staring through the rear window.

"Clint, they're chasing," He probably already knows, but there's a primal, hind-brain fear that rattles through her words and she says them anyway. "Oh, my stars, Clint, faster."

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