Clint's gaze fell on Trick, making a face. "Well, if I knew that's all it took...I wouldn't have to be payin' for all my drinks." He would have to make it a note to save some all important fae to get some favors around there. Preferably favors that involved free drinks. He shook his head with a laugh before taking the offered shot, shaking his head a bit. Just a little bit strong. Yeah, he would have to agree with Kenzi at that before side-eyeing her when she stated that he would have to owe her. He wasn't sure if that's how all of this worked, but he knew he didn't like the assumption of owing anyone anything. "You wish," he grumbled under his breath as he ran his hand down his face.
"Cushy...as in boring, you mean. 'm gonna go insane, Kenz. Insane. 'm one foot out the door to just poppin' a cap in the next person who hires me cos they can't read tells. I mean...your wife smells like sex when you haven't had sex in a month and suddenly you can't tell? I would tell." But he was trained to notice small details. That might be a big difference. He didn't think in 'normal people standards'. He thought in standards where...jumping off the edge of tall buildings without a safety net was just another day in the office. Clint was keeping tabs on the Avengers. When they were avenging that was. He wasn't even surprised that they didn't really skip a beat when it came replacing him with a new member. Sitwell was the Avengers' wrangler now and he knew he just wouldn't be as good as Phil Coulson.
His brow arched when he saw her hold out her pinky before looping it in his and bringing her hand up to kiss it with a smirk. "Scout's honor...no unnecessary trips to the hospital if it's avoidable." Clint was used to dealing with people who would outlive him. Who outgunned him. It didn't really help him feel an less significant when they decided they needed to save him. And...there really was no going around that. He knew he had been a replaceable member since he had been put on the roster. He didn't question it. When someone compared him to Stark or Rogers, it was always going to be them before him. Affordable losses and all. But it didn't mean he couldn't take care of himself. He could. He was more than capable of it.
"Mes...mer. Excuse me 'm still tryin' to pick up the lingo here. What should I expect?" He leaned his head against his hand as he slid the bottle closer to him and pouring it into the shot glass. "Can I kill 'im? Would that be allowed?"
no subject
"Cushy...as in boring, you mean. 'm gonna go insane, Kenz. Insane. 'm one foot out the door to just poppin' a cap in the next person who hires me cos they can't read tells. I mean...your wife smells like sex when you haven't had sex in a month and suddenly you can't tell? I would tell." But he was trained to notice small details. That might be a big difference. He didn't think in 'normal people standards'. He thought in standards where...jumping off the edge of tall buildings without a safety net was just another day in the office. Clint was keeping tabs on the Avengers. When they were avenging that was. He wasn't even surprised that they didn't really skip a beat when it came replacing him with a new member. Sitwell was the Avengers' wrangler now and he knew he just wouldn't be as good as Phil Coulson.
His brow arched when he saw her hold out her pinky before looping it in his and bringing her hand up to kiss it with a smirk. "Scout's honor...no unnecessary trips to the hospital if it's avoidable." Clint was used to dealing with people who would outlive him. Who outgunned him. It didn't really help him feel an less significant when they decided they needed to save him. And...there really was no going around that. He knew he had been a replaceable member since he had been put on the roster. He didn't question it. When someone compared him to Stark or Rogers, it was always going to be them before him. Affordable losses and all. But it didn't mean he couldn't take care of himself. He could. He was more than capable of it.
"Mes...mer. Excuse me 'm still tryin' to pick up the lingo here. What should I expect?" He leaned his head against his hand as he slid the bottle closer to him and pouring it into the shot glass. "Can I kill 'im? Would that be allowed?"