Izumo finished off his food and leaned back against his chair, sipping at his tea and waiting for his stomach to catch up and realize it was full. He watched Clint eat lazily, body curled lax in his chair and eyes heavy-lidded. He was tired, all over, and starting to feel ridiculously muddle-headed and fuzzy. He needed to sleep, and here might be safe enough his paranoia would actually let him sleep deeply enough to rest.