"JAKE!" The barista hollered over the rush hour noise of coffee-craving professional types and college students. Clint checked his watch out of habit, sidestepping someone with a candy-iced thing and the newspaper too blind to see him.  Finally he heard the name he gave for coffee amongst others and headed forward. Grabbing one of the drinks with a 'N- something' name that looked like close enough, he turned and took a sip as he headed for the creamer.

Then stopped and eyed the coffee through the lid suspiciously, convincing his mouth to not spit the sip back into the cup. Crude oil, with two shots of battery acid. "Hey this isn't-" he said as he turned back and jerked the cup out of the way, coming up short of the woman he nearly walked into. 

tags: clint barton, natasha romanova