Against a thousand actions || amnesia!verse || closed
The balm that he'd gained spending the night with Phil was faster to evaporate than Clint expected. The easy acceptance the man had given without thought, the silent support of what he was going through and the fact that he hadn't had to talk through any of it had done a very nice job of putting a large band aid over the fresh wounds, which had quite quickly gotten damp and was now sagging on the edges.
Well, he supposed it was at least better than someone ripping it clean off.
He'd fucked it up with Tony something awful, that much was obvious, and as he was leaving the workshop he realized that he had basically left Natasha to her own devices for a night and not told her where he was going or when he'd return. And it's that knowledge that speeds up his steps through the Tower, toward the elevator that takes him to his own floor.
The door slips open with a near-silent 'shink', and he steps in, eyes tracking the room to see if he can catch sight of her.
"Natasha? You here?"
Well, he supposed it was at least better than someone ripping it clean off.
He'd fucked it up with Tony something awful, that much was obvious, and as he was leaving the workshop he realized that he had basically left Natasha to her own devices for a night and not told her where he was going or when he'd return. And it's that knowledge that speeds up his steps through the Tower, toward the elevator that takes him to his own floor.
The door slips open with a near-silent 'shink', and he steps in, eyes tracking the room to see if he can catch sight of her.
"Natasha? You here?"