[Clint smiles faintly, fatigue settling around his eyes like weights. His shoulders sag and he can't seem to get that half-smile to quite reach the rest of him.]
You could say that. [He blows out a breath, trying to relieve some of the pressure in his head, or at least cool down enough to see better through the sweat. Wiping his forehead, he only manages to clean some of it off, but it's enough.]
Looks like you've had worse. [He doesn't need to even flick his gaze up at the IV and bloodbags hanging about Coulson's bed like macabre holiday decorations.]
\o/
You could say that. [He blows out a breath, trying to relieve some of the pressure in his head, or at least cool down enough to see better through the sweat. Wiping his forehead, he only manages to clean some of it off, but it's enough.]
Looks like you've had worse. [He doesn't need to even flick his gaze up at the IV and bloodbags hanging about Coulson's bed like macabre holiday decorations.]