The apartment is small. The table is comprehensive. On it, all the trappings one would need for packing their own rounds. Pieces of disassembled gun. A dog sleeps in the corner. An intimidating, broad-looking man with short-cropped dark hair sits methodically cleaning his weapons.
And then there's Clint, sitting across from him. It's Clint that he addresses when he quietly says, "I'm going to assume most of this isn't for recreational use."
Notably, the dark-haired man doesn't look up, or flinch, or give any indication that he's heard a new presence in the room. And he most certainly would have, were Will actually present.
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Date: 2025-10-20 03:08 am (UTC)And then there's Clint, sitting across from him. It's Clint that he addresses when he quietly says, "I'm going to assume most of this isn't for recreational use."
Notably, the dark-haired man doesn't look up, or flinch, or give any indication that he's heard a new presence in the room. And he most certainly would have, were Will actually present.