[If she doesn't want his apologies, he'll try to refrain from giving them. Natasha was a sister to her; hell, at the end of the day, she was around for Wanda more than Clint had been after his (first) retirement. There's a thought--
Jesus, there's a thought that in a place as crazy as this, what if Natasha were to come rolling into town?
But he tucks that hope/fear back. He's at the Dome for a reason, for reasons, none of them good. He doesn't need the extra money, even if that's never a bad thing. He has a violence in him that needs quenched. Not an addiction, but still some kind of need or desire to do more than just shoot from a distance. It helps the bubble of anger-grief from boiling out of control. And it helps him focus. Narrows everything down to just him and his opponent. Keeps him sharp, keeps him on his toes. Makes everything else fall away for a while.
And the pain. Pain's good for focus, too. In a way he's not sure he could explain, even if he wanted to. And why shouldn't he get hit from time to time? He can take it. He deserves it.
Wanda isn't going to judge him. Still, he feels he should warn her, explain just a little:] Been in a bad place for a couple years. 's not easy to just extract yourself from that. Or to even want to.
( it's only when there's a more grounded semblance of balance on their emotions that wanda draws back, one hand left on clint's shoulder, as she moves to sit down—chair a little closer to him now. she studies his face momentarily, wondering if she'll be able to catch on to what goes unsaid.
sometimes is hardly an answer, but it seems like all he can get himself to say about it.
letting go, her hand down onto her lap, wanda leans back on her chair.
listens— )
You make the future sound really awful.
( —shakes her head, looking down at her hands. )
Clint — I don't want you to feel like you have to be perfectly fine for my sake. None of us are. You're allowed to be this.
( this version of himself, whatever it's supposed to be. whatever it's supposed to hide, protect, keep close so that he doesn't crumble. )
[Her assessment of the future is rewarded with a tired cough of laughter, a barely-there wry pull of his mouth. Yeah, that's cuz the future sucks, but he doesn't say that. Doesn't say that yet, anyway. It's hard to know if that's even okay. She's happy here. What happens if she doesn't go back? What happens if she can't? What happens if she won't? She's happy here. She doesn't need all of that on her shoulders.
Maybe he doesn't need all this on his, either. He just doesn't know how to let it go.]
You were always welcome at home, on the farm. You know that, right? [After the original team became brand new uncles to the kids, that expanded to the new team, too. All good people who might sometimes need a little time living a slightly more rustic life chopping wood and running the tractor and feeding the chickens.] You're always welcome here, too. Or wherever I am. Even if I'm being a surly bastard about it.
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[If she doesn't want his apologies, he'll try to refrain from giving them. Natasha was a sister to her; hell, at the end of the day, she was around for Wanda more than Clint had been after his (first) retirement. There's a thought--
Jesus, there's a thought that in a place as crazy as this, what if Natasha were to come rolling into town?
But he tucks that hope/fear back. He's at the Dome for a reason, for reasons, none of them good. He doesn't need the extra money, even if that's never a bad thing. He has a violence in him that needs quenched. Not an addiction, but still some kind of need or desire to do more than just shoot from a distance. It helps the bubble of anger-grief from boiling out of control. And it helps him focus. Narrows everything down to just him and his opponent. Keeps him sharp, keeps him on his toes. Makes everything else fall away for a while.
And the pain. Pain's good for focus, too. In a way he's not sure he could explain, even if he wanted to. And why shouldn't he get hit from time to time? He can take it. He deserves it.
Wanda isn't going to judge him. Still, he feels he should warn her, explain just a little:] Been in a bad place for a couple years. 's not easy to just extract yourself from that. Or to even want to.
no subject
sometimes is hardly an answer, but it seems like all he can get himself to say about it.
letting go, her hand down onto her lap, wanda leans back on her chair.
listens— )
You make the future sound really awful.
( —shakes her head, looking down at her hands. )
Clint — I don't want you to feel like you have to be perfectly fine for my sake. None of us are. You're allowed to be this.
( this version of himself, whatever it's supposed to be. whatever it's supposed to hide, protect, keep close so that he doesn't crumble. )
no subject
Maybe he doesn't need all this on his, either. He just doesn't know how to let it go.]
You were always welcome at home, on the farm. You know that, right? [After the original team became brand new uncles to the kids, that expanded to the new team, too. All good people who might sometimes need a little time living a slightly more rustic life chopping wood and running the tractor and feeding the chickens.] You're always welcome here, too. Or wherever I am. Even if I'm being a surly bastard about it.