"I might just to see the look on your face." Clint smirked as he looked over to him, shrugging a bit. "I don't have to deal with a gaping chest wound." He tapped Phil's chest, right where Loki's specter had sliced right through the man from behind. Acknowledging the injury usually made a feeling in Clint's chest twist. "I didn't come back from the dead, but you never know. You'll heal up from this, I'll probably be back in medical one more time before you're okayed." He honestly knew he shouldn't look forward to being injured once again. But it was bound to happen. Clint was reckless.

He paused, his eyebrows quirking up. "Me singing might injure my pride a little. Or your eardrums." He would have swung his arm around Phil's shoulder to guide him out of the hallway, but Clint couldn't lift his arms that high without causing his body to ache. He paused...and did it anyway. "You ever play Halo, Coulson? Checkers?" He hid the wince on his face with a smile.

"I can't imagine that working out too well. I have a short-attention span."