Patience [Clint Barton]

1. Coffee

Blythe Jones hates waiting. Seriously, anything that she has to wait for she dreads. Standing in lines, expecting a package to come, waiting for an explosion from the opposite side to blow up. All of these things make her groan and roll her eyes. Patience is not her thing, never has and never will.  Especially not today. Today, she was in a hurry and her patience levels where almost completely diminished. She had already sighed roughly a hundred times today and was about to make it a hundred and one. 

The twenty five year old's caramel colored hair was in a messy bun and she wore a quarter-sleeve white silk blouse with a pale blue floral skirt. Her face held very little make-up, with a little bit of mascara and lip gloss, and even less interest.  She didn't really like dressing up but, it has to be done. For the greater good or some shit. She has a meeting that she must attend to with her Commanding officer, Jason Yutzy. They had to discuss her past missions and a few future ones, even though she's barely had anytime in between them.  She played with her silver dog tags as she stood in line at Caribou Coffee. When ever she got nervous, messing with the tags calmed her down. She ran her fingers over the cold, smooth metal and the engravings. The feeling made her  mind stop reeling and take a deep breathe, centering herself. Her Mary- Jane's clicked together on the tile floor impatiently, the clicking oddly calming her down. Her phone buzzes gently in her purse but, she simply ignored it. If they needed her, they would call, not send a text. She rolled her eyes as the line moved at a turtle pace, barely able to make a step. Only able to shuffle across the floor.

 "In a rush?" She jumped and swirled around, her skirt flowing out around her. Her eyes were wide and she put her hand on her skirt, knowing that she had a hand gun there. Her active duty status made her always carry one. Even in a dress or skirt. She took a deep breathe and calmed herself down before answering the man behind her. In her moment of panic, she didn't pay much attention to what he had said or who had said it.

"What? I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch what you said." The man smiled and held out his hand. He is a few inches taller than her, he has dark hair in a buzz cut, and a gap between his two front teeth. He wore a burnt orange color t-shirt and a pair of jeans, looking casual but nice enough for a Caribou Coffee.

"Sam Wilson. I asked if you were in a rush."

"Oh, Blythe Jones. And sorta. I have a meeting." He nodded, smiling gently. His eyes wandered to the tags that the woman was messing with and his curiosity spiked.

"Ah, I see. Where were you stationed?" He asked the young woman nodding to her dog tags. Not meaning to be rude and not coming off as rude either. He was simply genuinely curious considering he himself had been in the Air Force. 

"Air force and Infiltration. Two years in Afghanistan, two in Iraq, two in Iran, and most recently, one in Azerbaijan." He gaped in shock at her, that's quite a bit of time to serve for anyone never mind a person in their twenties.

"Are even old enough for that much time?!" She laughed at his befuddled expression and raised her eyebrows slightly.
"I'm twenty five thank you very much. I was shipped out on my eighteenth birthday and just came back to the states for the first time about a month ago."
"That's impressive. Thank you by the way. But, uh, didn't your family miss you? If you don't mind me asking."
"Your welcome I guess, and nope. I don't have any family. And my friends are serving besides me before you ask." Sam frowned but, nodded. He was confused to why she didn't have any family. He understood that shit happens and that people die but, most people have at least someone. Even if you're not that close to them, you still have distant family members and not to mention your friends that you've made along the way.