[Please, please describe him that way to his face someday when he could use a good laugh. Yeah. Master assassin, expert spy, so very clean and upstanding and tidy.
Clint shifts in his seat, and it doesn't help his lungs but it doesn't make them worse, something he's learning in every way he sits. He should not be upright at all, frankly. He should be in the back of an ambulance, and it wouldn't surprise him if he started dry drowning right here in front of his newfound ally(???) and die for real this time. But his shoulders ease. That's something.]
Governments usually don't know shit. [Ask him, he's one that fought on Team Cap and got chucked in jail about it. Something something Accords something. Fuck that political shit. He knows enough secrets to topple whole governments, the US included, but it's not his damn business. He can't be wielding that kind of power like it belongs to him.
no subject
Clint shifts in his seat, and it doesn't help his lungs but it doesn't make them worse, something he's learning in every way he sits. He should not be upright at all, frankly. He should be in the back of an ambulance, and it wouldn't surprise him if he started dry drowning right here in front of his newfound ally(???) and die for real this time. But his shoulders ease. That's something.]
Governments usually don't know shit. [Ask him, he's one that fought on Team Cap and got chucked in jail about it. Something something Accords something. Fuck that political shit. He knows enough secrets to topple whole governments, the US included, but it's not his damn business. He can't be wielding that kind of power like it belongs to him.
He offers up a hand across the table.]
Clint.