Most of the time, he loved being crowded. He liked being surrounded by people who wanted to do him some good. It didn't happen often (ever really). But right now he didn't want that. He wanted what he asked for and he wasn't entirely sure that was what he wanted. Who wanted to die? Clint still had years to live, but living them as a danger to the people around him wasn't what he wanted. "How can I help you understand when I don't even know how to wrap my brain 'round it, pal?" Clint sighed a bit, trying to control himself. In times of great stress it was typically easier for him to retreat into the back of his mind. To allow what he was to come out and deal with it.

Last time he dealt with it like that. It didn't end up pretty.

His blood was already boiling. His skin itchy and he knew...he didn't have the willpower to control it. Regardless of whether he wanted to or not. He just needed to calm down now. And now all of sudden instead of being one forced into this situation by bad luck. He was pulling Phil into it. Well, he felt like crap. "'m sorry, Phil. 'm sorry I came here." The tunnel vision was the next to start and he knew he was getting too far gone. The window was too far that way and he was pretty sure he could lock himself up in a closet. Another room. Away from Phil.