The plan was for Clint Barton to meet his contact at an outdoor cafe at 7pm, FET. The plan did not account for a storm to gather strength in the Black Sea and roll in at 6:28.
For the first hour, Clint tried to man up and outlast the rain.
After that, the real downpour began, and he had the sense to stand under whatever awning or doorway for as long as he’d be tolerated.
That made it more difficult to see people approaching, though, and he began to worry that he’d miss Laura altogether.
By 9:30 he was spending more and more time soaking in front of the cafe, and growing very worried that something had gone wrong.
It wasn’t until 10:45 that common sense won out. The rain clung to his skin like baby oil, and his clothes seemed to have doubled in weight.
Whatever had happened, he wasn’t going to get any answers from the pre-arranged rendezvous. Fumbling through the language barrier, he hailed a taxi and managed to direct it to his hotel.
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