Embarrassing for you, or embarrassing for them? [Because now that's sounding like fun. God. He hasn't really done fun since--well, shit, his last fun was flying an actual spaceship with his best friend through time and space and hit the brakes on that thought right now.

He also hits the brakes here in the car, if only because someone's swerving like a maniac who has potentially had one too many tonight, and he leans angrily on the horn a few times, giving the person a pointedly Russian curse. Gosh, can't imagine where he picked that one up from.]

Shit, nothing ever changes. [They take a wobbly turn where Clint keeps going straight. His eyes track details. (Does anyone use plates in the post-apocalypse?) Like he might keep an eye out for that same car later.] It's not near as busy, but it still feels like New York.