( clint is sentimental, he's just not very good at expressing it. he's selective, and choosy about where and when and how, but it's there in his actions if someone knows him enough, if they know what to look for. every weapon he chooses to use is chosen for sentimentality — swords for jacques, the bow for chisholm, staff and nunchuks for bobbi.

but he doesn't have an answer ready to go for that question, not a sentimental one and not a technical one.

he pulls a face, mouth dipping momentarily. you're asking the guy that doesn't miss what his best shot is? is what part of him is tempted to throw at her. it's what anyone else would get — bucky, steve, sam. but it's kate, and he thinks of how he'd told her that the only wasted shots are the ones you don't take.

so— ) I dunno if Mr. Wife-and-Three-Kids has the same sort of history as me, but I started off as a criminal. ( he hadn't meant to, it'd just kind of happened, but—. ) Saw Iron Man one day, and it annoyed me — some guy in a flashy suit, and I figured if he could do that with what he had going on, I could do it too. So I tried joining the Avengers.

( he doesn't look at her, just continues watching the unfolding scene below. their pair of stuck guards have friends now, and bystanders. it's interesting, he thinks, that none of the natives (he assumes they're natives, anyway) seem to hold much ill-will towards the guards. that'll be a problem. )

Shockingly, they didn't take some carnie kid seriously, so I had to get practical. ( a beat, wryly— ) Jarvis helped. That's why I always get him the good tea.

( he lifts his shoulders. it's not quite a shrug, not really. )

I don't miss, Kate. The only shots that are bad ones are the ones you don't take.