[ In all honesty, it wouldn't be a surprise though. Clint's lived a dangerous life since he was a kid, orphaned and running away, and nothing about that will ever change. Sniper, assassin, spy, superhero, war criminal -- dangerous, at the very core of it all.
But, but yes. They had each other, deep down in that sterile, hollowed ache sunk beneath the waves. Leaning on each other despite the clear walls separating them, despite Lang's pacing and Wanda's dead-eyed stare. Sam had had faith Steve would come, unspoken, unbowed, written deep into the very core of him. And Clint, well -- Nat would never leave him to molder away in a cell, and even disarmed Clint was a threat in his own right.
So Clint had kept Sam sane, and he'd seethed, he'd plotted. If Steve hadn't gotten there in time, Clint would have gotten them all out come hell or high water. Nothing about that has changed either, even here in an alien world, with layers of fabric concealing them both and the sprawl of their minds increasingly intertwined.
Fingers in his hair and Clint leans into it, a soft amused noise hidden under the lilting glee of whomever is speaking to Sam. They've no idea his mind has wandered this far, nor that his attention is not for them at all. But that's fine. He shifts, cat's grace lending silence to every move. ]
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But, but yes. They had each other, deep down in that sterile, hollowed ache sunk beneath the waves. Leaning on each other despite the clear walls separating them, despite Lang's pacing and Wanda's dead-eyed stare. Sam had had faith Steve would come, unspoken, unbowed, written deep into the very core of him. And Clint, well -- Nat would never leave him to molder away in a cell, and even disarmed Clint was a threat in his own right.
So Clint had kept Sam sane, and he'd seethed, he'd plotted. If Steve hadn't gotten there in time, Clint would have gotten them all out come hell or high water. Nothing about that has changed either, even here in an alien world, with layers of fabric concealing them both and the sprawl of their minds increasingly intertwined.
Fingers in his hair and Clint leans into it, a soft amused noise hidden under the lilting glee of whomever is speaking to Sam. They've no idea his mind has wandered this far, nor that his attention is not for them at all. But that's fine. He shifts, cat's grace lending silence to every move. ]
( What, you doubtin' me, Wilson? )