The apology is painfully earnest and, Clint feels, wholly unnecessary. So maybe he pulled a little bit of a Clint. Made an assumption, got defensive. Whatever. It isn't like it hurt him in any way.

Hard to think of a way he can be hurt anymore, really.

He can't help the snort at the description of an abrupt stop. It sure as hell was. He had a life, and in the blink of an eye, he didn't. Can't even be upset at the fact that they all use metaphors and little phrases, never talking about it directly, never giving it any real good name. Better that way, easier definitely. But at the same time, it feels like a flimsy layer of gauze over a gushing wound.

"I didn't have a lot, before. Made my own way. Mercenary, for a while, and got on big brother's radar for it. Coulson brought me in, and I was a real shithead about the whole thing 'til I started straightening out. Got taught a better use of my skills besides making money off the highest bidder. Got a cause. This is a cause. Protect people, right at the source."

He's a weapon with nobody to wield him effectively, so he has to wield himself.