Phil rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to kill you." His hand slid over Clint's back to rest on his other shoulder. "I've see you beaten harder. Belarus comes to mind. You pulled through that and you'll pull through this just fine." It was more head trauma than anything now, anyway, and while he probably was sporting a concussion, Phil was pretty confident that Clint hadn't suffered any permanent damage at his hands.

"You can't stop by my office every day and then suddenly stop and expect me not to notice. Noticing things like that is what I do. It's how I keep you alive and if it carries over outside of the field, I'm not going to apologize for it, because you really were missing. I was right. If I hadn't noticed, you would have just walked out of here today and I don't know when I would have found you."

He sighed. "And I won't put a GPS chip in you, but only because someone else could find out the frequency and track you and that's my job." Clint was just lucky that Phil was so paranoid or the chip would be going in yesterday.