"Would you want to?" The words slip out before she can even really think about them. It's a question she truly wants to know the answer to because she couldn't answer herself if asked, but she doesn't give him time to reply before she forges ahead. Maybe she wants to know that answer, but maybe she's also scared of it.
"There was an Inhuman who could control other Inhumans. Hive. He put people under his sway and made them want to make him happy, whatever it took." Her voice falls flat as she speaks as if the only way she can talk about this is with an amount of emotional distance. "It was only a couple of weeks for me, but the things I did..."
Taking a shuddering breath, she adjusts her grip on the mug, looking down at the dark liquid inside instead of the man sitting across from her. "Hive wanted to sway the entire world, and he had a way to do it because of me. My boyfriend sacrificed himself to stop Hive, and to save me from doing it myself. So I don't think I can go back to the life I had before, not when I have so much to atone for."
Not much from her Catholic orphanage upbringing has stuck with her into adulthood, but apparently paying penance and atoning for one's sins have made the very short list.
Clint continues to let her talk it out, bearing witness because that seems to be what she needs. When she pauses, he just shrugs. “Going back for me means Thanos never happened. It means that my friends weren’t dusted, that my family wasn’t, because of me. My ex-wife and our kids were all taken in the snap, and it’s my fault. We didn’t stop him when we could, and now it’s all fucked up.”
He takes a breath and bites his lip. “So I would go back, but it’s different for me than it seems like it is for you.”
He’s not sure what else to say. Except… “Look, I’m sure as a SHIELD agent you heard what happened with me and Loki. I did shitty things too, under his control. They’re not something I want to revisit, but you just have to remind yourself that it wasn’t you. Hell, Cap’s buddy Bucky was brainwashed by Hydra for years - he killed Tony’s parents. It wasn’t him. Whatever you think you have to atone for because of this Hive, you don’t. It wasn’t you.”
His kids. It's like a gut punch for Daisy, hearing just how much he's lost, and it makes her feel so much more guilty for not being there to stop it. Some part of her wants to beg for his forgiveness, but something tells her he'd brush it aside just like the situation with Hive. She hadn't known, it wasn't her fault... But she had known. They'd heard the warning and made a choice to turn down the alliance because of what it would have cost humanity. They hadn't understood it would've been the lesser evil.
"I'm sorry for all you've lost," she says after a long moment, choosing to focus on him because she can't bear to think of Hive anymore. She can't talk about how her body craved the chemical addiction of his sway, or the way she'd begged him to take her back.
"I honestly can't imagine what you've been through. I... didn't grow up with a family. SHIELD is the closest thing I've ever had to one, but I didn't lose them." She'd made the choice to walk away.
Clint just shakes his head. They’ve both lost people and they’re both coping with it in the best way that they can. He doesn’t mind listening to what Daisy has to say, but he doesn’t want to think about his own shit right now. He can’t think about Lila, Cooper and Nathaniel. He can’t picture their faces in his mind. It’s too much, too hard. He can’t let himself remember.
Even Laura. They’d been divorced, but they’d still been pretty effective at co-parenting the kids together. He’d still spent his off time at the farm, in the barn which he’d converted into a studio apartment so that he could still be close to the kids. He and Laura hadn’t worked out romantically, and he gets it, he does, but they’d still made a hell of a parenting team.
But they’re all gone now, and there’s nothing that he can do to fix it.
“Well, we may not be family, but I’ve got your back out there, if you want me to.” It’s not much, but in their line of work, having someone you trust at your back is something at least.
He doesn't want to talk about it, and she doesn't blame him. Losing them all like that... It's a wonder he's still standing. She understands now why he's thrown himself into this new self-assigned mission with such ruthlessness. When a person is at their lowest, they'll cling to anything they can to stay afloat. Just look at what she's done with the broken bits of her life.
"Yeah, you know, I guess I could go for having a sidekick," she says with the ghost of mischief in her tone and expression. He might be older than her, but she is the one wearing the superhero pants around here.
Clint’s been a sidekick for most of his professional career, his only real claim to fame being how good of a marksman he is. Nat’s always been better than him at the spy stuff, and as an Avenger he’d been the least effective. He doesn’t mind, really. He knows that he’s excellent at what he does, and it’s done him well to recognize the limitations of his abilities. So he smirks at her a little, glad she’d decided to lighten the mood. “Sidekick at your service.”
He fishes another can of beer from the case; they’re verging on warm now, but he doesn’t actually care. “When we’re in the field though, you have to call me Ronin. No one can know it’s me.”
It's strange to be working with someone again like this. The past few weeks, she's been able to tell herself it was only temporary, just until they wrapped things up with this particular cell of Watchdogs. But this feels different. With everything they've shared and the trust they're building, this feels more permanent. After the Secret Warriors fell apart because of Hive, she'd been certain she'd never work with anyone else like this again. But here she is. Here they are.
Her brow furrows at the codename he gives. Not because of needing a codename, that she completely gets, but the name itself is... a choice. She knows better than anyone that sometimes these things are out of your hands, though.
"Ronin?" she asks skeptically over the rim of her coffee mug before she takes another sip. "Did you come up with that or did the press stick you with it? Because I sure as hell didn't choose Quake for myself."
Clint just shrugs and drinks his beer, a sip this time. He’s not planning to get shit faced in front of a woman that he’s only just met. Sometimes he gets weepy and that would be embarrassing after everything they’ve talked about tonight. He’ll stop after this one, and then maybe they can make plans for their next strike in the morning.
“Not the first person to wear the suit,” he states. “It was named before me, so it’s not like I had a choice. Folks use it when they need to do things as someone else. I can’t be Hawkeye right now, maybe not ever again, but I still need to help. This is the only way I could make that happen.”
Despite the fracturing of the Avengers after the snap, Clint knows that most of them wouldn’t approve of how he’s chosen to live his life. The only person that might forgive him is Natasha, but he still can’t bring himself to tell her. This is his burden to bear, and now it’s Daisy’s too.
Huh. Interesting. She'd never heard of a Ronin or seen the suit before Clint inserted himself into her mission, but now she's curious. And luckily, even without SHIELD's resources, she's still got plenty of ways to do her own research and sate her curiosity without having to bother Clint for the information.
"I wonder if that'll happen with the heroes," she muses, steering the conversation to yet another subject. "People have to retire eventually, right? If nothing else, this job's hard on the body." Not that she can picture someone like May ever retiring, but she has heard Coulson complain about his knees once or twice. "Maybe there'll be another Captain America after Rogers. Probably not an Iron Man after Stark, though — from what I've heard, I don't think his ego could stand it."
Clint shrugs at her, glad for the change in subject. “Well I’m not gonna last forever, but Rogers is a super soldier, so who knows how long he’s gonna stay in shape for. Bruce seems pretty indestructible and Tony’s gonna have to be dead before he stops putting that suit on.” It feels good, being able to talk about his friends in a way that’s not painful. “But maybe they should think about training up some new ones. Before the snap, Tony had this baby science kid, and there was Wanda and Vis… we were growing in ranks.”
Despite them not always getting along, things with the Avengers had been good overall. Cap and Tony got into over Cap’s weird murder boyfriend, but Clint is sure they’ve made up by now. Too much has happened since then for them to keep holding their grudges.
Wanda. Vision. She's pretty sure the science kid was probably the Spider-Man who had been causing the good kind of mischief in Queens for a while. And now they're all gone. Their mention brings on another wave of guilt over the part she played in failing to stop Thanos, and Daisy scrambles to pull herself back from that line of thought before she spirals too deeply into it.
"The Accords fucked things up for a while too, didn't they." It's not a question; she remembers the way the news had gone nuts over it all. "I always thought SHIELD's Index was a bad idea, but the Accords are so much worse. If the wrong person gets hold of that list..."
Not every gifted individual wants the rest of the world to know who they are and what they can do, not when human beings aren't exactly known for being kind to those who are deemed different.
“Yeah, the Accords. Who’s bright idea was that?” Ultimately, Clint had decided to retire once the Accords came into play. It was the coming out of retirement part that had been the ultimate catalyst to his divorce. Laura hadn’t wanted him to go back out into the field, but he hadn’t listened. Within a month, he was being served with papers.
He doesn’t need to be thinking about that. Even if he wanted a second chance with Laura, which he doesn’t, she’s gone now.
“All the Accords would have done was leash the Avengers and expose Inhumans and Mutants who were just minding their own business. How many of them would have wanted retribution for us ruining their lives? It’s better to let people live the way they choose if they aren’t hurting anyone.”
"Agreed," she says with a nod, looking back down at the coffee she's still cradling in her hands. "Inhumans have existed for thousands of years and no one knew about them. They took care of their own, and if there was a problem, they dealt with it themselves. But now that people know, they think we're dangerous and it'll be our goal to..."
She lifts a hand in something like an exasperated shrug. There's a feeling of frustration and helplessness welling up inside of her because she is, in part, responsible for this. Daisy and Jiaying had both made mistakes and now their people (what's left of them) are suffering for it.
"I guess I'm not exactly proving them wrong. But I can't just sit around and let the Watchdogs hurt innocent people."
Clint just shrugs. He's made a lot of mistakes since putting on the Ronin suit, but they aren't actions he necessarily regrets. "Like you said, you gotta protect your own," he says softly. Clint has no powers himself, but the thought of that Spider Kid, or even Daisy being forced to register feels like some shit straight out of Nazi Germany, which he knows is why Cap wouldn't sign. A registration for mutants and inhumans and enhanced isn't something that could ever be seen as a good thing.
Especially not when revealing themselves could have them end up in a lab, being tested on for the rest of their lives. Clint had met Bucky Barnes before the snap; he'd seen first hand the results of the horrible acts doctors commit in the name of science.
Protecting her own was what Daisy's mom had been trying to do with her war on SHIELD and baseline humans, she'd just been too broken to see how her own pain was affecting her judgment. Jiaying had been willing to do unspeakable things to protect the people she considered hers, but the second Daisy stood against her, she'd been excluded from that number. She can still feel her mother's hands on her skin, siphoning the life out of her without a shred of remorse.
"Yeah," she comments quietly, not having anything more substantial to add to the discussion. After a moment, she takes a last long sip of coffee to finish off the mug and sets it down again with an audible clink. "I quake in my sleep sometimes. If you feel a bit of a rumble, it's probably just me."
Might as well warn him now. Things haven't been bad enough in a while to shake the house to the point it would register to anyone looking for her, but that's mostly because she wakes up before it's more than just tremors.
Clint nods quickly, taking note of her warning. "Maybe we should both get some sleep," he suggests. He takes the remainder of the beers and puts them back into the fridge. "There's a room across from the bathroom if you want it," he adds as an offer. He still doesn't know for sure if Daisy is planning on staying even though it's starting to sound more likely.
"I'm gonna hit the sack. No need to keep watch or anything, I've got shit set up." He has a pretty advanced monitoring system that he sets up every time he settles into a safehouse, and he's never had a problem detecting intruders.
Clint stands and nods at her before heading out of the kitchen. It's been a long day and he's ready for it to end.
Daisy hadn't actively made a decision about staying, it just sort of... happened. One minute, she's still debating, and the next, it's done. No more weighing options. It's weird how it feels right all of a sudden. It's even weirder when she washes out her cup and heads back down the hall to the room he'd mentioned. There's a bed and everything. It's been months since she slept in an actual bed.
But sleep she does. Eventually. There's not much of it, there never is these days, but the building doesn't shake and the world doesn't end. It's a low bar for a good night, but maybe it bodes well for this new partnership they've stumbled into. Maybe things won't end as badly this time.
Clint doesn't sleep much that night, despite his assurances that it's safe enough not to set up a watch. It's strange to share space with someone he barely knows even though he does trust her. It doesn't matter, ultimately, because he gets correspondence from Natasha early that morning, and he finds himself knocking on Daisy's door.
"Hey, got some intel about a drug ring in Morocco. They're taking young girls," he says. "You coming, or do you want me to meet up with me after?" He's fine either way, since he knows that Daisy has been more focused on the Watchdogs and their treatment of enhanced individuals. This is definitely more Clint's thing than hers.
The sun rose that morning and Daisy was awake to see it. Not that she paid much attention, of course — she was too deep into her research to notice the sky brightening outside the blinds-covered window across from the not-terribly-uncomfortable bed. Just a little early-morning hacking to track the Watchdogs' financials, nothing too strenuous. It is engrossing, though, and so she actually jumps a little when the knock comes at her door.
It's been too long since she lived with another person. (Is that what she's doing now?)
Twenty seconds is all she needs. Not to make up her mind, she'd done that the second he mentioned the girls. No, it takes her twenty seconds to shut down her work, climb off the bed, and grab the duffel she hadn't bothered to unpack the night before. Opening the door with an expectant look on her face, she simply asks, "When do we leave?"
Clint is reaching to knock again when the door swings open. It looks like she'd gotten about as much sleep as he had. "Uh hey," he greets, "I need to find us transport, waiting to hear if Cap will let us borrow the quinjet while he runs around on his honeymoon or whatever he's doing with Barnes. If not, we're getting train tickets or taking that van of yours. I need to dismantle my equipment and pack up but I should be good to go in ten."
He passes over the notes he'd gotten from Natasha and adds, "if you want to familiarize yourself while I get everything together." He hopes there's coffee, even if it's cold and old from the night before.
A quinjet. The idea sends a pang of longing through her, though she doesn't let it show on her face. She isn't going back to SHIELD, so thinking about how much she misses her family isn't going to do anyone any good. Instead, she just nods and takes the papers with her free hand.
"Thanks," she says absently, already reading the first words as she makes for the kitchen. "I'll make coffee."
She would have offered breakfast, but aside from bowls of cereal or partially burnt toast, her breakfast-making skills leave something to be desired. Hopefully, he doesn't mind a liquid diet start to the day, and hopefully, there's something travel-friendly to carry their much-needed caffeine in.
Clint nods and doesn't make a joke about marrying like he may have before, to someone willing to make him coffee. He says, "there are protein bars in the drawer, no time for anything more substantial."
And then he leaves the kitchen.
Dismantling his tech takes a bit longer than he'd expected because he needs to make sure that every piece comes with him to the next base. It's a good thing, because he doesn't hear back for thirteen minutes. He heads directly to the kitchen, pours a fresh cup of coffee for Daisy and then drinks directly from the pot. "Quinjet's coming for us, but so are Cap and Barnes. We'll have to drop them off if we want to use it. That good with you?"
It might feel almost domestic to be making coffee in the morning in an actual kitchen. You know, if they weren't about to run off to stop a bunch of bad guys doing bad things. That kind of shatters the illusion.
She's eating her protein bar breakfast when he returns, his bar waiting on the counter for him. (There are another few stuffed in her bag for later.) His use of the coffee pot as a mug gets a raised eyebrow, but the words that follow are enough to derail her thoughts before she can comment.
"Yeah, it's fine," she says softly, wishing she could feel even a modicum of excitement over meeting the Avenger and Howling Commando who Coulson has told her so much about over the years. Instead, she's almost dreading it. "I'd... prefer they not know who I am."
Clint takes his protein bar and eats it in two large bites. He takes another gulp of coffee from the pot before nodding at her words. "They're under cover right now too, so I don't think anyone will be asking questions. They're just here for transport."
There are things he doesn't want Steve to know as well, and those things involve the persona he's taken on, so he stuffs the Ronin uniform into his bag. "There are things I don't want them to know, too," he adds even though he's pretty sure it's clear.
Clint finishes getting ready and not even a few minutes later, he hears the tell tale sign of the Quinjet landing. "Alright," he says, "here we go."
"Here we go," she echoes quietly, hefting her bag onto her shoulder. It's been so long since she just jetted off somewhere at the drop of a hat that it feels both strange and familiar at the same time. Nostalgia and nerves pile on top of each other only to be swept away by anxiety and guilt when she finally spots the two living legends.
Yeah, this is gonna suck.
She doesn't say a word to anyone as she boards the quinjet, just climbs the ramp and immediately stows her bag securely. Actually flying the thing is something she hasn't trained for yet, but she knows the ins and outs of the rest of it. Hell, she's jumped out the back of one more times than she can count. So she keeps busy checking the systems she understands while the men do their thing, hoping she can avoid any and all conversation and that wherever they need to go isn't far.
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"There was an Inhuman who could control other Inhumans. Hive. He put people under his sway and made them want to make him happy, whatever it took." Her voice falls flat as she speaks as if the only way she can talk about this is with an amount of emotional distance. "It was only a couple of weeks for me, but the things I did..."
Taking a shuddering breath, she adjusts her grip on the mug, looking down at the dark liquid inside instead of the man sitting across from her. "Hive wanted to sway the entire world, and he had a way to do it because of me. My boyfriend sacrificed himself to stop Hive, and to save me from doing it myself. So I don't think I can go back to the life I had before, not when I have so much to atone for."
Not much from her Catholic orphanage upbringing has stuck with her into adulthood, but apparently paying penance and atoning for one's sins have made the very short list.
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He takes a breath and bites his lip. “So I would go back, but it’s different for me than it seems like it is for you.”
He’s not sure what else to say. Except… “Look, I’m sure as a SHIELD agent you heard what happened with me and Loki. I did shitty things too, under his control. They’re not something I want to revisit, but you just have to remind yourself that it wasn’t you. Hell, Cap’s buddy Bucky was brainwashed by Hydra for years - he killed Tony’s parents. It wasn’t him. Whatever you think you have to atone for because of this Hive, you don’t. It wasn’t you.”
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"I'm sorry for all you've lost," she says after a long moment, choosing to focus on him because she can't bear to think of Hive anymore. She can't talk about how her body craved the chemical addiction of his sway, or the way she'd begged him to take her back.
"I honestly can't imagine what you've been through. I... didn't grow up with a family. SHIELD is the closest thing I've ever had to one, but I didn't lose them." She'd made the choice to walk away.
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Even Laura. They’d been divorced, but they’d still been pretty effective at co-parenting the kids together. He’d still spent his off time at the farm, in the barn which he’d converted into a studio apartment so that he could still be close to the kids. He and Laura hadn’t worked out romantically, and he gets it, he does, but they’d still made a hell of a parenting team.
But they’re all gone now, and there’s nothing that he can do to fix it.
“Well, we may not be family, but I’ve got your back out there, if you want me to.” It’s not much, but in their line of work, having someone you trust at your back is something at least.
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"Yeah, you know, I guess I could go for having a sidekick," she says with the ghost of mischief in her tone and expression. He might be older than her, but she is the one wearing the superhero pants around here.
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He fishes another can of beer from the case; they’re verging on warm now, but he doesn’t actually care. “When we’re in the field though, you have to call me Ronin. No one can know it’s me.”
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Her brow furrows at the codename he gives. Not because of needing a codename, that she completely gets, but the name itself is... a choice. She knows better than anyone that sometimes these things are out of your hands, though.
"Ronin?" she asks skeptically over the rim of her coffee mug before she takes another sip. "Did you come up with that or did the press stick you with it? Because I sure as hell didn't choose Quake for myself."
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“Not the first person to wear the suit,” he states. “It was named before me, so it’s not like I had a choice. Folks use it when they need to do things as someone else. I can’t be Hawkeye right now, maybe not ever again, but I still need to help. This is the only way I could make that happen.”
Despite the fracturing of the Avengers after the snap, Clint knows that most of them wouldn’t approve of how he’s chosen to live his life. The only person that might forgive him is Natasha, but he still can’t bring himself to tell her. This is his burden to bear, and now it’s Daisy’s too.
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"I wonder if that'll happen with the heroes," she muses, steering the conversation to yet another subject. "People have to retire eventually, right? If nothing else, this job's hard on the body." Not that she can picture someone like May ever retiring, but she has heard Coulson complain about his knees once or twice. "Maybe there'll be another Captain America after Rogers. Probably not an Iron Man after Stark, though — from what I've heard, I don't think his ego could stand it."
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Clint shrugs at her, glad for the change in subject. “Well I’m not gonna last forever, but Rogers is a super soldier, so who knows how long he’s gonna stay in shape for. Bruce seems pretty indestructible and Tony’s gonna have to be dead before he stops putting that suit on.” It feels good, being able to talk about his friends in a way that’s not painful. “But maybe they should think about training up some new ones. Before the snap, Tony had this baby science kid, and there was Wanda and Vis… we were growing in ranks.”
Despite them not always getting along, things with the Avengers had been good overall. Cap and Tony got into over Cap’s weird murder boyfriend, but Clint is sure they’ve made up by now. Too much has happened since then for them to keep holding their grudges.
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"The Accords fucked things up for a while too, didn't they." It's not a question; she remembers the way the news had gone nuts over it all. "I always thought SHIELD's Index was a bad idea, but the Accords are so much worse. If the wrong person gets hold of that list..."
Not every gifted individual wants the rest of the world to know who they are and what they can do, not when human beings aren't exactly known for being kind to those who are deemed different.
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“Yeah, the Accords. Who’s bright idea was that?” Ultimately, Clint had decided to retire once the Accords came into play. It was the coming out of retirement part that had been the ultimate catalyst to his divorce. Laura hadn’t wanted him to go back out into the field, but he hadn’t listened. Within a month, he was being served with papers.
He doesn’t need to be thinking about that. Even if he wanted a second chance with Laura, which he doesn’t, she’s gone now.
“All the Accords would have done was leash the Avengers and expose Inhumans and Mutants who were just minding their own business. How many of them would have wanted retribution for us ruining their lives? It’s better to let people live the way they choose if they aren’t hurting anyone.”
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She lifts a hand in something like an exasperated shrug. There's a feeling of frustration and helplessness welling up inside of her because she is, in part, responsible for this. Daisy and Jiaying had both made mistakes and now their people (what's left of them) are suffering for it.
"I guess I'm not exactly proving them wrong. But I can't just sit around and let the Watchdogs hurt innocent people."
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Especially not when revealing themselves could have them end up in a lab, being tested on for the rest of their lives. Clint had met Bucky Barnes before the snap; he'd seen first hand the results of the horrible acts doctors commit in the name of science.
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"Yeah," she comments quietly, not having anything more substantial to add to the discussion. After a moment, she takes a last long sip of coffee to finish off the mug and sets it down again with an audible clink. "I quake in my sleep sometimes. If you feel a bit of a rumble, it's probably just me."
Might as well warn him now. Things haven't been bad enough in a while to shake the house to the point it would register to anyone looking for her, but that's mostly because she wakes up before it's more than just tremors.
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"I'm gonna hit the sack. No need to keep watch or anything, I've got shit set up." He has a pretty advanced monitoring system that he sets up every time he settles into a safehouse, and he's never had a problem detecting intruders.
Clint stands and nods at her before heading out of the kitchen. It's been a long day and he's ready for it to end.
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But sleep she does. Eventually. There's not much of it, there never is these days, but the building doesn't shake and the world doesn't end. It's a low bar for a good night, but maybe it bodes well for this new partnership they've stumbled into. Maybe things won't end as badly this time.
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"Hey, got some intel about a drug ring in Morocco. They're taking young girls," he says. "You coming, or do you want me to meet up with me after?" He's fine either way, since he knows that Daisy has been more focused on the Watchdogs and their treatment of enhanced individuals. This is definitely more Clint's thing than hers.
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It's been too long since she lived with another person. (Is that what she's doing now?)
Twenty seconds is all she needs. Not to make up her mind, she'd done that the second he mentioned the girls. No, it takes her twenty seconds to shut down her work, climb off the bed, and grab the duffel she hadn't bothered to unpack the night before. Opening the door with an expectant look on her face, she simply asks, "When do we leave?"
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He passes over the notes he'd gotten from Natasha and adds, "if you want to familiarize yourself while I get everything together." He hopes there's coffee, even if it's cold and old from the night before.
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"Thanks," she says absently, already reading the first words as she makes for the kitchen. "I'll make coffee."
She would have offered breakfast, but aside from bowls of cereal or partially burnt toast, her breakfast-making skills leave something to be desired. Hopefully, he doesn't mind a liquid diet start to the day, and hopefully, there's something travel-friendly to carry their much-needed caffeine in.
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And then he leaves the kitchen.
Dismantling his tech takes a bit longer than he'd expected because he needs to make sure that every piece comes with him to the next base. It's a good thing, because he doesn't hear back for thirteen minutes. He heads directly to the kitchen, pours a fresh cup of coffee for Daisy and then drinks directly from the pot. "Quinjet's coming for us, but so are Cap and Barnes. We'll have to drop them off if we want to use it. That good with you?"
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She's eating her protein bar breakfast when he returns, his bar waiting on the counter for him. (There are another few stuffed in her bag for later.) His use of the coffee pot as a mug gets a raised eyebrow, but the words that follow are enough to derail her thoughts before she can comment.
"Yeah, it's fine," she says softly, wishing she could feel even a modicum of excitement over meeting the Avenger and Howling Commando who Coulson has told her so much about over the years. Instead, she's almost dreading it. "I'd... prefer they not know who I am."
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There are things he doesn't want Steve to know as well, and those things involve the persona he's taken on, so he stuffs the Ronin uniform into his bag. "There are things I don't want them to know, too," he adds even though he's pretty sure it's clear.
Clint finishes getting ready and not even a few minutes later, he hears the tell tale sign of the Quinjet landing. "Alright," he says, "here we go."
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Yeah, this is gonna suck.
She doesn't say a word to anyone as she boards the quinjet, just climbs the ramp and immediately stows her bag securely. Actually flying the thing is something she hasn't trained for yet, but she knows the ins and outs of the rest of it. Hell, she's jumped out the back of one more times than she can count. So she keeps busy checking the systems she understands while the men do their thing, hoping she can avoid any and all conversation and that wherever they need to go isn't far.
If you want him to call her something else, lmk! I'll change it.
it works!
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