[ The scent of bacon alone makes his mouth water, and Clint doesn't hesitate to snatch it up, free half of it from the wrapping to take a bite. He's quiet as he chews the mouthful down, eyes watching Stiles as he does, smiles at little at how Fury takes the hide and instantly drops into a sprawl to get to work on it. ]
You're his favourite now. [ And he should get it over with, he really should, but when he tries to get the words out, to ask - or, more accurately, point out why he's really here - nothing comes out. ] How've you been, kid?
action;
You're his favourite now. [ And he should get it over with, he really should, but when he tries to get the words out, to ask - or, more accurately, point out why he's really here - nothing comes out. ] How've you been, kid?