He can, without a doubt, relate to being shaken. The things he'd done... he'd gone so long without- He can't even keep himself together when he thinks about it, so he does his very best not to. Tries to force it out of his mind, otherwise he's not so sure he could look in the damn mirror after.
He'd been the first of them to disappear into the depths of the house, the first to withdraw from the whole socializing thing, and for good reason. He's not really great company right now. He definitely, definitely doesn't want to talk about it. At least she knows him that well.
He's mostly leaning against the wall by the time she shows up, one arm braced against the tile, hot water rolling down his back. If he can say anything about Clint, it's that the man knows hot water heaters.
He doesn't startle at the touch, he doesn't, he's too- he's far too gone to be the startling sort. It's unexpected though, frankly, completely unexpected. He's had a few- maybe a few dreams, a few... ideas, a few notions, none he ever expected to happen, and never like this.
And yet there she is, hovering bare and exposed just on the outskirts of the tub, hand wet already, looking expectant.
"Natasha," he says, and it's as much of an acknowledgment as it is a subtle warning. He knows she knows what she's doing, what she's getting into, but he feels obligated to put up at least a token resistance. He's not, however, going to fight and die on this hill. He's happy to see her.
that is perfecto
He'd been the first of them to disappear into the depths of the house, the first to withdraw from the whole socializing thing, and for good reason. He's not really great company right now. He definitely, definitely doesn't want to talk about it. At least she knows him that well.
He's mostly leaning against the wall by the time she shows up, one arm braced against the tile, hot water rolling down his back. If he can say anything about Clint, it's that the man knows hot water heaters.
He doesn't startle at the touch, he doesn't, he's too- he's far too gone to be the startling sort. It's unexpected though, frankly, completely unexpected. He's had a few- maybe a few dreams, a few... ideas, a few notions, none he ever expected to happen, and never like this.
And yet there she is, hovering bare and exposed just on the outskirts of the tub, hand wet already, looking expectant.
"Natasha," he says, and it's as much of an acknowledgment as it is a subtle warning. He knows she knows what she's doing, what she's getting into, but he feels obligated to put up at least a token resistance. He's not, however, going to fight and die on this hill. He's happy to see her.