Clint felt tired, and the day wasn't even half over.
The meeting with Nick hadn't been half as bad as expected. The fact that in the eyes of his employers, he couldn't leave the country without a babysitter he'd already put up with, after all. And Nick at least wasn't trying to be an ass about it.
The look that Maria had thrown him on the way out, hadn't exactly been harmless. Just as little as those of some other agents they had met. But nothing he wasn't used to.
At least he had full control of his accounts again and didn't make an idiot of himself anymore when he wanted to buy coffee for Natasha and him. And the small duty free bar where they wanted to wait for the next flight was remote enough.
Still it was there when Clint remembered why he hadn't been too happy about the flight route. It was ridiculous how much it should not bother him and did anyway. Two hours from here was just a little close for his taste.
He tried to distract himself with surfing on his phone but the thought that S.H.I.E.L.D. was certainly monitoring his history, wasn't making it fun.
He sipped on his still too hot coffee and stared outside at the runways, trying to get lost in the promise of powerful machines to take off to the skies, the way he had once enjoyed it so much. Instead the few jets waiting for their next tour blurred into the shape of a sharp small Falcon on his mind. A machine that he shouldn't miss as much after what he had done with it and experienced in it, and still did.
Unnerved from his own restlessness he finally went to watching the passing people outside which turned out to be the worst of idea of all. Everyone who looked at him for longer than a split second made him nervous. As if it was just a matter of time, until someone would recognize him and call for local police. Knowing that every potential mug shot had long been killed by the network guys, helped only until the next person hurried by, probably scared off by the scowl on his face.
"Great... Add paranoia to the list of your mental evaluation about me", he groaned, frustrated.
no subject
The meeting with Nick hadn't been half as bad as expected. The fact that in the eyes of his employers, he couldn't leave the country without a babysitter he'd already put up with, after all. And Nick at least wasn't trying to be an ass about it.
The look that Maria had thrown him on the way out, hadn't exactly been harmless. Just as little as those of some other agents they had met. But nothing he wasn't used to.
At least he had full control of his accounts again and didn't make an idiot of himself anymore when he wanted to buy coffee for Natasha and him. And the small duty free bar where they wanted to wait for the next flight was remote enough.
Still it was there when Clint remembered why he hadn't been too happy about the flight route. It was ridiculous how much it should not bother him and did anyway. Two hours from here was just a little close for his taste.
He tried to distract himself with surfing on his phone but the thought that S.H.I.E.L.D. was certainly monitoring his history, wasn't making it fun.
He sipped on his still too hot coffee and stared outside at the runways, trying to get lost in the promise of powerful machines to take off to the skies, the way he had once enjoyed it so much. Instead the few jets waiting for their next tour blurred into the shape of a sharp small Falcon on his mind. A machine that he shouldn't miss as much after what he had done with it and experienced in it, and still did.
Unnerved from his own restlessness he finally went to watching the passing people outside which turned out to be the worst of idea of all. Everyone who looked at him for longer than a split second made him nervous. As if it was just a matter of time, until someone would recognize him and call for local police. Knowing that every potential mug shot had long been killed by the network guys, helped only until the next person hurried by, probably scared off by the scowl on his face.
"Great... Add paranoia to the list of your mental evaluation about me", he groaned, frustrated.