Clint has excellent pain tolerance, which is how he can get the shit beat out of him and keep going. But he still winces a little at the touch to his face. Nothing seems like it's broken, nose-wise, but it's still tender.

Of course, his whole body feels tender at the moment.

He licks his lips, tries to come back to himself a little bit at a time. He feels like he's going to be one giant bruise, and whatever stares back at him in the mirror over the next couple weeks will probably be hideous. But the effort also feels like it's settling into his bones. In a good way. Or at least in a not-bad way.

"Arms and legs, fingers and toes, all accounted for. Probably not dying today." He simply breathes for a moment and lets Steve feel out whatever else he wants or needs to. "Grab some water?"