[ Clint likes to consider himself someone who can appreciate humour in its many forms, if delivering sarcastic retorts wherever he can fit them in counts for anything, but this - this isn't amusing him in the slightest.
Hair sticking up at odd angles and pillow creases still faintly etched into his cheek, Clint appears closed off, and he's not usually one for open expressions at the best of times, but it's as if he's shut down, been replaced with a cyborg. If it weren't for the haunted glint in his eyes that catches the light occasionally, he might even come across as menacing. He certainly feels murderous.
If he were in the mood, Clint might make some joke about not knowing whether he's more shaken by the text on the t-shirt he seems to have acquired or the fact that it's white, because white is so not his colour. ]
All the dark secrets I sit on day in and day out, and I get this shit. [ He's muttering to himself, the words hard and cold, biting as he spits them out, and he's unaware that he's knocked the device in his rage, slamming the thing down on the kitchen counter as he works on getting coffee inside him so he can make his escape to somewhere high and concealed. ] The one fucking thing I've managed to avoid and it bites me in the ass.
[ The t-shirt sports large, bold text with the following printed across every space it can fill up, unable to be missed by anyone with eyes:
I WAS POSSESSED BY LOKI AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT
He's thrilled. ]
'Cause I don't carry the weight of being Loki's bitch and the blood he put on my hands enough, right? [ And that's before the betrayal to those he owes everything to, and the knowledge that if he hadn't helped Loki then Phil would never have been-- ] Fuck this.
[ OOC: Feel free to catch him wherever within the City, but he might not be in the best of moods. ]
Hair sticking up at odd angles and pillow creases still faintly etched into his cheek, Clint appears closed off, and he's not usually one for open expressions at the best of times, but it's as if he's shut down, been replaced with a cyborg. If it weren't for the haunted glint in his eyes that catches the light occasionally, he might even come across as menacing. He certainly feels murderous.
If he were in the mood, Clint might make some joke about not knowing whether he's more shaken by the text on the t-shirt he seems to have acquired or the fact that it's white, because white is so not his colour. ]
All the dark secrets I sit on day in and day out, and I get this shit. [ He's muttering to himself, the words hard and cold, biting as he spits them out, and he's unaware that he's knocked the device in his rage, slamming the thing down on the kitchen counter as he works on getting coffee inside him so he can make his escape to somewhere high and concealed. ] The one fucking thing I've managed to avoid and it bites me in the ass.
[ The t-shirt sports large, bold text with the following printed across every space it can fill up, unable to be missed by anyone with eyes:
He's thrilled. ]
'Cause I don't carry the weight of being Loki's bitch and the blood he put on my hands enough, right? [ And that's before the betrayal to those he owes everything to, and the knowledge that if he hadn't helped Loki then Phil would never have been-- ] Fuck this.
[ OOC: Feel free to catch him wherever within the City, but he might not be in the best of moods. ]
64 comments | Leave a comment
confused