(He lives a life forged on weakness of will. A primordial need for redemption and purpose drove him to join the Avengers. For what? Acceptance. Compensation for looking in the mirror and never measuring up.
But when fire clashes with ice and acceptance meets rejection, that weakness boils deep in his stomach, steaming forth a pang of sentimental melancholy. How easy it would be to cut the strings and just walk away — to revert to the same old Clint, always running in or running out. )
What’s that supposed to mean? You can’t — you can be mad at me, angry. Hate me. Ignore me, pretend I don’t exist. Fine. But you can’t say I was never your friend, Jess. You can’t do that.
( She seems to have stricken a nerve. and as much as her blood boils at just the sight of that scruffy face of his, it’s almost comforting to know that she’s able to get some reaction out of him. It’s wasn’t necessarily the one most desired, but –)
Listen—- ( Breath Jess, you’ve gotta breath. )
You’ve got some issues, but so do I. You live your life trying to be the good guy, yet somehow you’re still the bad boy heart breaker that’s simply —- seductive. People like that.
I liked that. But now? … ( One hand will grace his shoulder. )
Clint, you’re one of a kind. Yet still a dime a dozen.
