@wantediniceland ( plotted a thing )
Clint had learned quite a few things in his time, but none of the war sense that had
kept him alive in the military really worked when it came to business. That’s why he
hired other people to do the business for him; Coyote, his late mentor, had always
preached the benefits of extra eyes, hands, & ears, the importance of leading through
others, but he’d also been infamous for treating them horribly. Keep them in line, Clint.
You’re the boss, not them. That’s what he’d been told.
Yeah, & I’m still alive but look at you. The mercenary retorts internally, smiling into his
cigarette as he strides down the hall, all iron will & heart. They called him a company
man, a ruthless one, but one who was respected; Clint liked to think he was a fair
boss, even if he ran a tight ship. He hadn’t lost his head yet, if that signified anything.
At the door he carefully exhales his smoke, pausing that extra second to breathe
before stepping through the threshold – beyond was a world that he did not quite
understand, thus relinquishing to a new employee, who he checked up on now.
“It’s Hardison, right?” Clint asks, leaning further into the room than he’d stepped, a
little hesitant to wander in a realm so unknown. Plus, at the moment, the workroom
was in complete disarray. “You know what all this is?” He continues, looking around
the space, already half made up with equipment, the rest still in boxes. He nudges
an open one with his boot, then glances back at the tech. “It’s everything my last
guy had, don’t know heads or tails of it, but if you find something missing, or need
anything else, you let my people know.” He nods, as if confirming his own words.
After a short pause. “Adjusting?”
