so I am just curious, Kate says (she has not spoken in an hour, not that this is unusual, hawkeyes believe in the companionable silence of the First Caffeine of the Day)
is it always like this. bullshit and bruises
–bullet holes– (Clint’s leg really hurts)
and magic, and bullshit,
—that was bullshit twice—
just in general a life for which there is never and will never be enough fucking coffee the morning after?
pretty much, Clint says
… well right on then. we are out of coffee.
—bullet hole, Clint says. stairs. (Clint is not in the mood for stairs. stairs are not much fun with four good legs, they’re just plain fuckery with two good, one dodgy and one with a bullet hole.) Simone?