"Fucking hell it's cold," Clint swears, moving over to Tony's side, and casting an irritated look back at the ruined remains of the jet. It's in more pieces than Clint can put back together and they're about in the worst place for a crash landing.
It's freezing, and they're on a mountainside with snow about as deep as their shoulders if they dug through it, and neither of them are dressed for it. But they did manage to salvage a blanket from the wreckage and Clint holds it up between them.
"It'll probably take them a day to realize we've got down and use the locator to find us. There's a pretty good chance we'll have frozen to death by then. We need to find some kind of shelter and get out of the worst of this before that," he looks up, motioning toward the storm clouds building on the horizon, "ends up on top of us."
Tony's glowering at the remains of the jet like the fact that he knows he can't fix it is a personal affront. Mostly because it is. His fingers itch to put it back together, get it flying again. He knows better than to waste time trying though. It's clearly trashed beyond all recovery, and right now they really do have bigger problems. "Shelter. Yeah." He glances back at the jet speculatively. But no, the fuselage is ripped clean open down one side, and already snow is starting to accumulate inside. They're clearly not going to find any real shelter in there. Looking at that it's a fucking miracle neither of them are hurt any worse than they are - cuts and bruises for the most part, somehow - but the jet is wreckage
( ... )
Clint tightens his arms over his chest to try and ward off the biting cold, his breath puffing out in a white cloud in front of him as the shivering sets in. He clenches his jaw though, to try and keep his teeth from chattering and nods at Tony's idea. Clint actually does have some survival training--they all do, SHIELD agents--but they don't have a lot of resources here. He'll work on it as they walk, alright?
"Yeah. Lead the way--but make it quick." He's well aware how quickly they can end up dead out here and of the ways he'd like to die, freezing in a blizzard on the side of a mountain really isn't one of them.
He huddles a little deeper into his thoroughly inadequate jacket and falls into step beside Clint as they begin the unenthusiastic trek along the base of the cliff. The wind is already carrying the beginnings of the new snowfalls along with it, big white flakes settling on their shoulders as they trudge onward.
"Totally dead," Tony confirms, and immediately makes a face at this own word choice. Not the best phrase to use under the circumstances. "You see anything yet?"
As a rule, Clint isn't a huge fan of snow. It's not the cold that he minds, really, but the fact that snow like this--falling in white waves of the stuff--limits his line of sight and somehow manages to get into everything. Even if they were dressed for this, if the jet had been stocked with the all-weather supplies like it was supposed to be, somehow the snow would find some way under a jacket collar, under a shirt, some way to get freezing water right where they didn't need it
( ... )
"Cozy," Tony comments dryly, eyebrows raised. The reflexive sarcasm might have carried a bit more bite if he weren't gritting his teeth to stop them from chattering. How is it this cold? But the cave is relatively dry, out of the wind and biting snow being driven before it, and he has to admit that on balance he's spent the night in worse places.
At least there's some company. Being stuck out here alone would really suck.
He steps inside the cave, hunched over slightly to avoid the low ceiling - it's lucky neither of them are big guys, because even now it's pretty cramped in here - and eyes the opening thoughtfully. "We'll wanna cover that over, I guess," he said, "Keep the snow out and the heat in."
"Are you kidding?" He retorts back, slipping in further so he's all but pressed against the stone face of the rock that makes up the back of the cave. It's dry, which is good news for them right now, but doesn't bode well for a long stay. this is an old cave and any water running through it has long since stopped. "This is the Ritz of caves. This cave is going to keep us from dying on a very lonely mountain. This cave is absurdly cozy," even including the old droppings of some animal that had called it home a long time ago.
"Yeah, we should, but I don't want to sacrifice the only blanket we've got to do the job." He scowls and looks around as best he can, "If it wasn't blowing so damn hard we could actually pack the snow up and use it to reflect our heat, but with the way that storm is moving it'd just get knocked down before we could get it up properly."
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It's freezing, and they're on a mountainside with snow about as deep as their shoulders if they dug through it, and neither of them are dressed for it. But they did manage to salvage a blanket from the wreckage and Clint holds it up between them.
"It'll probably take them a day to realize we've got down and use the locator to find us. There's a pretty good chance we'll have frozen to death by then. We need to find some kind of shelter and get out of the worst of this before that," he looks up, motioning toward the storm clouds building on the horizon, "ends up on top of us."
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"Yeah. Lead the way--but make it quick." He's well aware how quickly they can end up dead out here and of the ways he'd like to die, freezing in a blizzard on the side of a mountain really isn't one of them.
"Your comm unit's as busted as mine, right?"
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"Totally dead," Tony confirms, and immediately makes a face at this own word choice. Not the best phrase to use under the circumstances. "You see anything yet?"
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At least there's some company. Being stuck out here alone would really suck.
He steps inside the cave, hunched over slightly to avoid the low ceiling - it's lucky neither of them are big guys, because even now it's pretty cramped in here - and eyes the opening thoughtfully. "We'll wanna cover that over, I guess," he said, "Keep the snow out and the heat in."
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"Yeah, we should, but I don't want to sacrifice the only blanket we've got to do the job." He scowls and looks around as best he can, "If it wasn't blowing so damn hard we could actually pack the snow up and use it to reflect our heat, but with the way that storm is moving it'd just get knocked down before we could get it up properly."
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