The ruffling of the hair did not boost confidence in Clint at the idea of anything happening the way he wanted it too. Phil was there, Phil wasn't looking at him like he was jail-bait anymore. Clint was just lucky he had several things on his mind other than what he was dealing with. There had been occasions when he had still been getting the letters to go out and search for Phil. To find him and tell him he was older now and that the past was past. Let's get to know each other. Clint just didn't want him physically. He wanted to get to know more about him which was far more than anyone else he had ever tried to get with. But then again, everyone he tried to get with was usually more into him than Phil was at this point in time. Clint had been upset, yes. But there were other reasons why he had chosen Phil above anyone else he had met and they had tried to keep tabs with him. Most of them he didn't really like. But Phil had already seen him at his worst once already and didn't even bat an eyelash. It was that reaction that kept Clint interested.
And it was that reaction that made Clint want to know about him. Already he knew more about Phil than Phil knew about him; he wasn't sure how Phil felt about that. But he didn't really want to delve into that conversation. Right now, he mostly just wanted to hold him again. Ground himself again before he swatted at Phil's hand with an annoyed look on his face. "Really? 'm flirtin' with you and you ruffle my hair. You might as well have added 'good dog' at the end of that 'n spare humorin' me a little longer." It sounded more aggressive than he intended to sound. He didn't know whether to blame the statement on himself or the fact that really had gotten more aggressive since being turned. Which was still himself, but it was more difficult to keep it in check than everything else.
Clint didn't pull away from the lack of space he had between him and Phil before he just leaned forward, running his hand through his hair and mentally telling himself to calm down a little. "Only Gillian Anderson could pull off the pencil skirts, anyway." He amended, looking back up at the screen before leaning back again. He wasn't going to apologize.
He was going to apologize. He was just holding it off a little bit longer because he didn't want to feel like some idiot who wasn't in control of this. Of himself. He knew he wasn't in control of this that he wanted some control in a tiny aspect of his life. Even if it was just Phil humoring him by flirting back. It would have been a much needed confidence boost as he leaned his head back against Phil's arm, chewing on the inside of his mouth as his eyes turned back to the television screen. "There are...no such things as bad zombie movies. There's a little jem in each of them. One zombie movie I watched when I was a kid...the zombies actually said 'brains' that I didn't think they were that threatenin'. Jus' like with all monster flicks. Yanno, for a while I resorted to watching every single werewolf movie I found for research."
A pause.
"All of 'em are crap. I should write a strongly worded letter jus' cos they don't really hit any useful information other than 'OW SILVER' 'n...other crap." Clint mused on the collection of werewolf movies he had watched cautiously over the past months whenever he got a chance. "I'm sorry....too. I didn't mean to...snap, it's jus' really hard not too. 've wanted to come here for so long. I wish under better circumstances, if 'm honest. I woulda rocked your world." Clinton Francis Barton: will never, ever beat around the bush for too long before actually saying something.
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And it was that reaction that made Clint want to know about him. Already he knew more about Phil than Phil knew about him; he wasn't sure how Phil felt about that. But he didn't really want to delve into that conversation. Right now, he mostly just wanted to hold him again. Ground himself again before he swatted at Phil's hand with an annoyed look on his face. "Really? 'm flirtin' with you and you ruffle my hair. You might as well have added 'good dog' at the end of that 'n spare humorin' me a little longer." It sounded more aggressive than he intended to sound. He didn't know whether to blame the statement on himself or the fact that really had gotten more aggressive since being turned. Which was still himself, but it was more difficult to keep it in check than everything else.
Clint didn't pull away from the lack of space he had between him and Phil before he just leaned forward, running his hand through his hair and mentally telling himself to calm down a little. "Only Gillian Anderson could pull off the pencil skirts, anyway." He amended, looking back up at the screen before leaning back again. He wasn't going to apologize.
He was going to apologize. He was just holding it off a little bit longer because he didn't want to feel like some idiot who wasn't in control of this. Of himself. He knew he wasn't in control of this that he wanted some control in a tiny aspect of his life. Even if it was just Phil humoring him by flirting back. It would have been a much needed confidence boost as he leaned his head back against Phil's arm, chewing on the inside of his mouth as his eyes turned back to the television screen. "There are...no such things as bad zombie movies. There's a little jem in each of them. One zombie movie I watched when I was a kid...the zombies actually said 'brains' that I didn't think they were that threatenin'. Jus' like with all monster flicks. Yanno, for a while I resorted to watching every single werewolf movie I found for research."
A pause.
"All of 'em are crap. I should write a strongly worded letter jus' cos they don't really hit any useful information other than 'OW SILVER' 'n...other crap." Clint mused on the collection of werewolf movies he had watched cautiously over the past months whenever he got a chance. "I'm sorry....too. I didn't mean to...snap, it's jus' really hard not too. 've wanted to come here for so long. I wish under better circumstances, if 'm honest. I woulda rocked your world." Clinton Francis Barton: will never, ever beat around the bush for too long before actually saying something.