He has to ease the tension out of himself (as much as he can, given the natural tension he carries on himself these days) when there's a rap on the door. Quiet. Soft. But he hears it well enough. And he knows it's Steve, but the paranoid part thinks someone's caught him out, connected dots, come for their pound of flesh.

It's just Steve. He knows this.

He has to wonder if Steve's surprised to see him. He's still a little surprised at himself. But then, maybe if someone else had found him, they wouldn't have been as understanding.

Clint's dressed down, hair still sporting a bit of dampness in it, simple sweatpants, simple shirt. It'll give Steve a glimpse at the working of lines along one arm, the start(?) of a bigger picture of a tattoo. He doesn't say anything as he moves aside to let Steve back in, nor when he closes the door again gently.