( Well shit, if that ain't a little unexpected. So many more than they know about — so not the goody-two-shoes, most wholesome avenger after Cap himself some people seem to think he is. Can't blame 'em, Clint has an unassuming air and a pleasant face. He could be anybody's neighbor.

When he shifts again this time, it's stiffly. Unhappily. His fingertips press tight into the ceramic of his mug, his hold on it carefully rigid. )

Nah, see, I did government sanctioned. ( That's the bitch of it, isn't it? ) Turns out the shit they were sanctioning was worse than anything I ever did on my own. Those thirty-seven or however many, I don't regret a single one.

( The clear, unspoken implication: the same is not true for the men he was commanded to kill. Ahmad Zubair will haunt him until the day he finally dies for real. )

As for not getting caught... I'll start wearin' a mask when I start being ashamed of what I'm doing.

( And that ain't today. )