The only individuals Clint took from were fat tourists that thought he was a tour guide, or they just believed he was another tourist. It was actually easier pickings than wandering through the crowds in the circus. The debit/credit cards meant very little. He didn't want to leave a trail that could come back to him. It was typically the cash he was after. He usually ended up discarding everything else. A part of him felt in awe when he flipped through big fat wallets that held an entire person's life in there. Pictures of their family. Pets. He felt as though he was looking into someone else's world but when he observed them -- the arguments they had. Listened to the crap they had to say about someone back home. Clint felt no sympathy. Life for them was a cake walk considering the life that he had. Even after ditching SHIELD to have a happier sort of life with Bruce. Even if most people would say the place they lived in with the conditions they had to deal with was a far cry from happy.
Clint was happy.
The archer wrinkled his nose a bit when Bruce crowded him, not because he didn't want to be crowded. He wanted to check out what Bruce had gotten them. "The chicken's purely for me to have someone 'round when you're off doctoring. I woulda gotten a dog, but those are picked up usually right as they're put on the street. This old lady invited me over to eat something that was potentially dog. 'm scarred for life." He chuckled, giving Bruce a quick peck on the cheek before allowing his line of sight to follow Bruce's back to the chicken, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Oh...already named her. Margarita Louisa Ana-Maria Santana Barton-Banner. It was either than or Budweiser. Margarita seemed more fittin'." He tossed his head back with a laugh, there was no way he didn't have a good chuckle over that when he came up with it in the first place. Clint allowed himself to move, looking through the bag of groceries Bruce had set down.
"My actual wallet. Nearly broke the guy's arm...you think there'd be a sort of honor amongst thieves. Even in different countries."
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Clint was happy.
The archer wrinkled his nose a bit when Bruce crowded him, not because he didn't want to be crowded. He wanted to check out what Bruce had gotten them. "The chicken's purely for me to have someone 'round when you're off doctoring. I woulda gotten a dog, but those are picked up usually right as they're put on the street. This old lady invited me over to eat something that was potentially dog. 'm scarred for life." He chuckled, giving Bruce a quick peck on the cheek before allowing his line of sight to follow Bruce's back to the chicken, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Oh...already named her. Margarita Louisa Ana-Maria Santana Barton-Banner. It was either than or Budweiser. Margarita seemed more fittin'." He tossed his head back with a laugh, there was no way he didn't have a good chuckle over that when he came up with it in the first place. Clint allowed himself to move, looking through the bag of groceries Bruce had set down.
"My actual wallet. Nearly broke the guy's arm...you think there'd be a sort of honor amongst thieves. Even in different countries."