i want to tell you this story without having to confess anything.

[aimlessness]

CHARACTERS: francis and clint barton!
LOCATION: deck 10 common room.
WARNINGS: trainwreck incoming.
SUMMARY: are you my mother father?

[ clint's not a kid person. it's...it's not his thing. he's not cut out for it, so it's weird in ways he doesn't know how to deal with that there's a kid that belongs to some version of him running around with a bow and arrow and--

well, it's weird. just as weird as most things on this boat tend to be, and clint considers seriously pulling his blankets over his head and sleeping this off too, but he's well past the excuse of exhaustion and all the rubble's been washed out of his hair, so he pulls his jacket on, sticks his gun into his belt and goes to see the kid.

here goes nothing. ]

Comments

[aimlessness]

[ and it's enough. that's all he could ask because he's not this kid's dad, right? clint nods, has an awkward moment where he wonders just what to do ( hair ruffling? handshake? ) before he raises on shoulder in a shrug and nods. ]

Alright then.

[ and then he vacates the scene before he actually does do something awkward. ]