CLINT WOULD NOT SHUT UP.
Clint talked and Clint whistled and Clint laughed and Clint snored like a congested heifer and Clint SANG. He actually SANG sometimes, he sang over the comm lines, he always sang in the shower, he sang while the morning coffee brewed, he sang in late night diners and greasy spoons. He didn’t seem to care that she didn’t talk back, that she mostly ignored him.
He chattered like a magpie, he sang like a nightingale, he hunted like a hawk.
Natasha Romanov - Secrets of the Toasterverse - scifigrl47 (x)