( clint offers his arm, and wanda has half a mind to ignore it, but—she feels that he might really need this, more than what he's admitting to her. not like it's difficult, anyway, because it's him; so, she grabs at his arm, hand loose against the curve of it, as they make their way to his car.

which isn't exactly anything to call home about, in her mind, once she sees the model they're walking towards. )

I have a backpack. ( re: hauling things and scavenging, which is not something that has crossed her mind at all. she scrunches her nose as he continues, though; fight club... him?

hm. ) It sure looks like it needs tinkering.

( someone else would scold him for getting into fights; it's clearly leaving him with new bruises on his body. but she won't do that, and asks, instead, )

Are you trying to say I should join a fight club, to save up?