A stab of guilt had went through him as he had stopped, picking up his backpack and silently musing over his mental list of pros and cons. Phil didn't know what he was getting himself into. He didn't expect Phil to realize the severity of the situation and the danger that Clint posed to, well, everything. He had shouldered his backpack and started moving. He didn't run, apprehension about leaving was still settled in his gut. He (subconsciously) knew if he ran then Phil would never see him for as long as he lived. Unless he went out looking for him but still, Clint knew how to disappear and he could for long periods of time. He had a good habit of keeping his head down. He knew how to live off of whatever he needed too at the time even if he didn't believe in taking advantage of the kindness of strangers.

Or Phil.

Clint was already half-way up the street when he knew Phil must have put everything together. He nearly stopped in his tracks when he heard his name called and knew he had to keep moving. "Sorry, Philly." He muttered under his breath as he started to run. He had been fast before he was bitten. When he was just some normal guy. But now that he was a werewolf he was faster than...well, a lot of people.