As it so happens, Will's eyes are tired, dry, sore — he's not entirely sure why. Allergies, maybe. Too much time swapping between glasses and no glasses? It doesn't matter, it's not important.
The way he looks at Clint feels an awful lot like commiseration. It's companionable, comfortable, the apologetic little smile he wears. Not that it's his fault, it's just... he understands the fatigue. He really, really understands.
His lips only quirk up a little higher at the question and, after a lengthy beat, he finally answers, "Seven." And then, "For now."
No guarantees it won't become eight one day; not that he's looking, not that he's searching it's just... if he should happen to come across another stray...
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Date: 2025-10-18 01:26 am (UTC)The way he looks at Clint feels an awful lot like commiseration. It's companionable, comfortable, the apologetic little smile he wears. Not that it's his fault, it's just... he understands the fatigue. He really, really understands.
His lips only quirk up a little higher at the question and, after a lengthy beat, he finally answers, "Seven." And then, "For now."
No guarantees it won't become eight one day; not that he's looking, not that he's searching it's just... if he should happen to come across another stray...
"...Would you like to meet them?"