"Tch, yeah. It might give people something glittery to aim at." Would he wear something ridiculous to a mission? Probably only if it involved infiltrating some kind of themed party and finding a quiet moment alone to shank his target in the toilet, but who's he kidding? The Soldier would have agreed to anything no matter how ludicrous the demand might be.
The taco he did end up eating has some kind of seafood with eggplant relish, which he's enjoying enough to have some relish get on his right hand, but he can't see anything like cactus in there - well he's not expecting a green prickly thing, it's probably skinned and cooked, nor does he know what it would taste like, but he imagines it's still visually distinct enough to be recognisable - so he's just sampling the goods and working his way across the table in a somewhat methodical fashion.
"Hnh - you've got some-- sauce-- yeah," he gestures at the corner of his own lips mirrored from hers, unable to hide the small chuckle she elicits from him. He doesn't have that many friends to begin with, so he can appreciate that there are no formalities or pretences between them and they can just-- talk frankly and be messy around each other.
"You should try this one. It's some... blackened fish with eggplant thing," he offers his basket over. Yes, the Wilsons are training him on cajun cuisine, so he's familiar with those kinds of flavours. Skipping over the one that looks like ground beef purely because he knows it won't be the cactus, he moves onto one basket with fillings he doesn't recognise next.
"So what do you do on your own birthdays? Especially when you don't have to humour grumpy old centenarians?" They're not much of a big deal to him, all the more so when he's missed so many by now. But maybe she does something special for herself. Or maybe Barton's enough of a gentleman to make her have a slightly different day from all the others?
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The taco he did end up eating has some kind of seafood with eggplant relish, which he's enjoying enough to have some relish get on his right hand, but he can't see anything like cactus in there - well he's not expecting a green prickly thing, it's probably skinned and cooked, nor does he know what it would taste like, but he imagines it's still visually distinct enough to be recognisable - so he's just sampling the goods and working his way across the table in a somewhat methodical fashion.
"Hnh - you've got some-- sauce-- yeah," he gestures at the corner of his own lips mirrored from hers, unable to hide the small chuckle she elicits from him. He doesn't have that many friends to begin with, so he can appreciate that there are no formalities or pretences between them and they can just-- talk frankly and be messy around each other.
"You should try this one. It's some... blackened fish with eggplant thing," he offers his basket over. Yes, the Wilsons are training him on cajun cuisine, so he's familiar with those kinds of flavours. Skipping over the one that looks like ground beef purely because he knows it won't be the cactus, he moves onto one basket with fillings he doesn't recognise next.
"So what do you do on your own birthdays? Especially when you don't have to humour grumpy old centenarians?" They're not much of a big deal to him, all the more so when he's missed so many by now. But maybe she does something special for herself. Or maybe Barton's enough of a gentleman to make her have a slightly different day from all the others?