[His eyes do get drawn to the mark around her neck. Trying not to give it too much attention, but--listen, he wasn't lying. The Raft doesn't make him mad now. The memories of that are so far behind and, frankly, led to something good for him. But the reminder of what they did to Wanda, and the reminder of what got lost, the reminder of what could have been if things had been different--
If he let himself, he's sure he could dredge up that anger from the depths. But even the depths are a little closer to the surface than they ever were before.
The question about his family feels so abrupt that he can't help the way his fingers curl tight around the edge of the table, the startled blink, the way he sits upright just a little bit more.] No. [Too fast, too harsh. Take a breath. His fingers do not uncurl, but the rest of his body he forces to give off the impression of relaxing.] No, I...haven't checked. [It literally hadn't occurred to him to. He's not sure what it would mean if they were. He wants to say--literally takes a breath to say, weird Avengers-level shit doesn't happen to them unless he directly involves them, but that's so not remotely true that he just lets the breath out again as a huff.]
( though she's promised him that she would not poke into his head, take glimpses at what's on his mind, it is impossible to not notice the shift in clint's overall demeanor. wanda wouldn't need to be a telepath to see that asking about his family was, perhaps, the wrong thing to say.
for a moment it worries her. a feeling of dread, of something important that has happened that she isn't aware ofβthings that he's holding onto until she decides to ask him about it.
her head tilts, thoughtful, eyes on him. )
...why not?
( but that doesn't feel like the right thing to say either. )
[Why not? Why not? What a hysterical thing to ask. Why didn't he go looking through the interdimensional city where he's half convinced he's dead to see if his non-existent-save-thirty-seconds-before-his-fall family had also, by sheer stupid coincidence, had also ended up here? Because that seems patently absurd is why.
Well. Sheer stupid coincidence turned every single one of them but him to dust. Maybe he should have thought of that. Maybe it's not absurd. Has he been a fucking idiot this whole time? But they're not dead and dust. Not anymore. He's pretty damn sure.
But then, Wanda is also not dust anymore in theory.
There's a lie halfway to his lips before he decides lying to a friend and telepath is also patently stupid. You okay?] No. [He gives her a tight smile that looks more like a grimace.] I'm not, no. Haven't been for a while.
( where does she draw the line? of wanting to curate her own experiences, remove herself from avengers-level situations out of rightful anger, to the potentiality of being nothing but selfish? to ignore the way clint has reacted in the past couple of seconds to the way he telegraphs his emotions despite his best efforts, it would be selfish. perhaps even harmful to their relationship.
wanda considers this for less than a second (because she does care, so much), before reaching out across the table for one of his hands. )
Hey.
( she's thought it before, how she isn't natasha. but in this world of unknowns, of strangers, perhaps they're all they've got. it's been years for clint, since the raft; he's retired, but ... this isn't the look of a man who's retired from the superhero gig.
swallowing, she hedges her words, hand squeezing his lightly. )
[It had been some of the longest few seconds of his life. The phone ringing. Her number. Her voice. The way he couldn't articulate for all the emotions threatening to undo him in the moments before the world exploded into ash and flame.
If it worked, if that did happen, and not some crazy hallucination, then everything will have been worth it. Almost worth it. Worth it. Natasha would want him to--
There's the briefest instance where it looks like he's going to jerk away at her touch, but, instead, he steadies. Reaches for...not numbness, but familiarity of pain enough to dull it. He doesn't want to fall all to pieces right now, in front of her, in this hole in the wall of a restaurant. She's so far removed from it all. And she won't pluck it out of his thoughts if she can help it.
He swallows down the exhaustion and the grief, old old friends of his, and nods. The words are all jumbled up and stuck. He'll have to pry them loose. This isn't about him. This isn't supposed to be about him. Wanda has the whole rest of her life to live and then not live and then live again, and to live here at least for a time. It doesn't have to be about him.
Like clearing the blockage with a crowbar, Clint swallows a few times, and his words start out watery before he makes them even out.] Think it's going to be okay, now. I hope so.
[For them. And for half the universe. It's going to be okay, and that's the part that matters.]
( clint say that it's going to be okay now, that he hopes so, and wanda can't help but feel a surge of desire to connect with what entirely he means by this. the only reason she draws her hand away, though, is because the server comes in with their orders, setting them down before them, completely ignoring the heaviness of the conversation between the two.
it breaks the tension, a bit, as she starts spooning around her noodle soup, not quite eating yet.
wanda glances up at him. )
I know it's not very helpful, but I'm here.
( and even if she wants to reject the notion of avengers, it doesn't mean she'll reject clint. they're friends, bonded over some heavy stuffβshe can be here for him, too, the way he's been there for her, through some rough patches. )
[It does break the tension, but only some. It weighs heavy on him. Five years feels like an actual eternity. He wraps his hands around the bowl for a few long moments, warming them until it's just a little too hot, and then focuses on his cool drink instead.]
I know. [And he believes it now. She's here. Somehow, he's here, and they're both here at the same time, and she doesn't know and clearly both wants to know and doesn't. Where would he even start? Way back in New York?] I know. And I appreciate it. I don't wanna...
[He doesn't want to weigh her down. Like a damn anchor. He backtracks a little, tries a different angle.]
( it's not a lack of trust, or a matter of it, either. even with her enhanced abilities of getting to glimpse into his mind, wanda can tell that he is conflicted by what to say, what not to say, where to even start. there is just so much that she can piece together from what he's told her, from a future that hasn't happened for her, and she doesn't intend to pry or push him into an uncomfortable corner where he has to lay it out for her.
for wanda, at this point, it's mostly important that he knows that she's here β at whatever capacity that works for him.
she shrugs. )
It's fair to say that people change.
( though clint looks different, feels different, wanda doesn't know how much of that will affect her perception of him at this time. grabbing at her spoon, she'll start stirring her noodles and soup around, so she can start eating. having this bowl in front of her makes her feel hungry.
she settles for the following, )
If you ever need me, any time, you can call me.
( no weighted expectations of who clint 'should' be in this relationship between them. )
It... makes me feel better knowing you're here, too.
( knowing she can count of him if she ever needed his help. and maybe that much can be enough for now. )
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no subject
If he let himself, he's sure he could dredge up that anger from the depths. But even the depths are a little closer to the surface than they ever were before.
The question about his family feels so abrupt that he can't help the way his fingers curl tight around the edge of the table, the startled blink, the way he sits upright just a little bit more.] No. [Too fast, too harsh. Take a breath. His fingers do not uncurl, but the rest of his body he forces to give off the impression of relaxing.] No, I...haven't checked. [It literally hadn't occurred to him to. He's not sure what it would mean if they were. He wants to say--literally takes a breath to say, weird Avengers-level shit doesn't happen to them unless he directly involves them, but that's so not remotely true that he just lets the breath out again as a huff.]
You think I should?
no subject
for a moment it worries her. a feeling of dread, of something important that has happened that she isn't aware ofβthings that he's holding onto until she decides to ask him about it.
her head tilts, thoughtful, eyes on him. )
...why not?
( but that doesn't feel like the right thing to say either. )
You okay?
no subject
Well. Sheer stupid coincidence turned every single one of them but him to dust. Maybe he should have thought of that. Maybe it's not absurd. Has he been a fucking idiot this whole time? But they're not dead and dust. Not anymore. He's pretty damn sure.
But then, Wanda is also not dust anymore in theory.
There's a lie halfway to his lips before he decides lying to a friend and telepath is also patently stupid. You okay?] No. [He gives her a tight smile that looks more like a grimace.] I'm not, no. Haven't been for a while.
no subject
wanda considers this for less than a second (because she does care, so much), before reaching out across the table for one of his hands. )
Hey.
( she's thought it before, how she isn't natasha. but in this world of unknowns, of strangers, perhaps they're all they've got. it's been years for clint, since the raft; he's retired, but ... this isn't the look of a man who's retired from the superhero gig.
swallowing, she hedges her words, hand squeezing his lightly. )
Did something happen to your family?
no subject
If it worked, if that did happen, and not some crazy hallucination, then everything will have been worth it. Almost worth it. Worth it. Natasha would want him to--
There's the briefest instance where it looks like he's going to jerk away at her touch, but, instead, he steadies. Reaches for...not numbness, but familiarity of pain enough to dull it. He doesn't want to fall all to pieces right now, in front of her, in this hole in the wall of a restaurant. She's so far removed from it all. And she won't pluck it out of his thoughts if she can help it.
He swallows down the exhaustion and the grief, old old friends of his, and nods. The words are all jumbled up and stuck. He'll have to pry them loose. This isn't about him. This isn't supposed to be about him. Wanda has the whole rest of her life to live and then not live and then live again, and to live here at least for a time. It doesn't have to be about him.
Like clearing the blockage with a crowbar, Clint swallows a few times, and his words start out watery before he makes them even out.] Think it's going to be okay, now. I hope so.
[For them. And for half the universe. It's going to be okay, and that's the part that matters.]
no subject
it breaks the tension, a bit, as she starts spooning around her noodle soup, not quite eating yet.
wanda glances up at him. )
I know it's not very helpful, but I'm here.
( and even if she wants to reject the notion of avengers, it doesn't mean she'll reject clint. they're friends, bonded over some heavy stuffβshe can be here for him, too, the way he's been there for her, through some rough patches. )
no subject
I know. [And he believes it now. She's here. Somehow, he's here, and they're both here at the same time, and she doesn't know and clearly both wants to know and doesn't. Where would he even start? Way back in New York?] I know. And I appreciate it. I don't wanna...
[He doesn't want to weigh her down. Like a damn anchor. He backtracks a little, tries a different angle.]
I'm not the guy you remember me to be.
no subject
for wanda, at this point, it's mostly important that he knows that she's here β at whatever capacity that works for him.
she shrugs. )
It's fair to say that people change.
( though clint looks different, feels different, wanda doesn't know how much of that will affect her perception of him at this time. grabbing at her spoon, she'll start stirring her noodles and soup around, so she can start eating. having this bowl in front of her makes her feel hungry.
she settles for the following, )
If you ever need me, any time, you can call me.
( no weighted expectations of who clint 'should' be in this relationship between them. )
It... makes me feel better knowing you're here, too.
( knowing she can count of him if she ever needed his help. and maybe that much can be enough for now. )