Clint sat in shocked silence for a moment. What was she doing? They had everything they needed. If she waited much longer they weren't going to get out without causing a scene. He opened his mouth to speak, but then he heard the radio line go dead. No. No, no, no. There had to be something wrong with the tech. Natasha never disconnected herself from him unless a target was hard to break and she had to… His eyes widened and he moved to see her again. He watched as she stood with him and walked out of the party and out into the hotel with him, stepping into the elevator. Why was she doing this? They had enough evidence on him to launch a full investigation. She didn't need to take it any farther. Unless… maybe she wanted to? Sure, the guy was charming and attractive enough, but he was a criminal.

Clint paced slowly back and forth, shooting off a couple texts to her.

'Nat, what are you doing?'

'We got the intel, we can go now.'

After a couple minutes of no answer, he sent another.

'I'm going to wait in the lobby. Turn your radio on if something happens.'

Then he slid his phone into the inside pocket of his suit and made his way down to the lobby of the hotel hosting the party and found a comfortable seat. He leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. What was she doing? Sure, he trusted her, but it was hard not to worry about her. It wasn't like she'd never made a reckless choice before.

Half an hour later of radio silence later, the radio line came back online. At first all Clint heard was white noise, but then Natasha's voice came in loud and clear.

"Call for extraction. Get our things from the room. I'll be on the roof and ready for the jet in 20 minutes," she spoke curtly and flipped the comm unit back off before Clint could even respond.
He groaned in frustration but all he could do was follow her instructions. He texted their location to Coulson – who assured him a jet was on the way – and quickly went up to the room to gather their things. Exactly 18 minutes later, he was standing on the roof of the hotel, a duffle bag on either shoulder, and holding his phone, waiting for Natasha to check in.

Clint was already on the jet with their things when Nat finally stepped out onto the roof and walked onto the plane. Her hair was down around her shoulders and she hadn't bothered to do up the hook at the top of the zipper on her dress. She was barefoot, her shoes in her hand and her face emotionless, when she stepped silently onto the jet and braced herself as they took off.

"Well?" Clint finally broke the silence once they were in the air, his arms folded across his chest and his tone irritable. "What the hell happened back there?!"

She finally looked at him, her face still stoic, unaffected. "I don't need to explain myself to you," she finally said flatly. She turned and rummaged through her duffle bag until she found a pair of leggings and an old hoodie. She took the clothes and walked into the bathroom to change. She spent several minutes in the small bathroom, changing her clothes and wiping off most of her makeup. When she came back out, her curls were tied into a loose ponytail, pulled away from her face. She carefully packed the dress and the weapons she'd had on her into her duffle bag before turning and tossing a small object to Clint.

He caught it easily and looked at it for a second before looking back up at her in disbelief. "His phone? You risked the entire operation so you could steal his phone? Great. Good. I'm glad we have this," he said dryly. "It'll be great for the first hour before he realizes you took it, finds out we're onto him, and alerts all his buddies so they can go so far underground we won't find them for the next 6 years."

She crossed her arms, an annoyed look on her face; the first emotion Clint had seen her show since she'd left the party with Calvin. "I'm not stupid, Clint," she said in a tone that sounded dangerously close to hurt.

"I didn't say you were stupid. I know you're not. But this? This was stupid. It's not like you to be so reckless, Natasha. You probably just blew this whole op." He knew he was being a little harsh, but he also knew he was right. They didn't usually take things for this exact reason.

Nat bristled at the use of her full name. It wasn't common for Clint to call her Natasha. He had to be really pissed at her.

"I told you I'm not stupid. That's not his phone. It's a clone of it. Now we know everything he has on his phone and we get to know everything new that happens too," she stared him down unrelentingly. "But by all means, if you don't trust me, do yourself a favor and request a new partner when we get back."

Clint's jaw nearly dropped. He opened his mouth to reply, but realized he didn't have anything to say. His mind was racing to catch up and respond, but before he could form a sentence, Nat had made herself comfortable in one of the seats, put her headphones on, and closed her eyes as if to sleep. Clint was in the mood to fight a little for sure, but he wasn't in the mood to get himself killed by keeping her from sleeping. Especially after the night they'd both had. They didn't need to fight on the jet anyways. There was nowhere to go to get away from the pilot and copilot and it was awkward to fight in front of other people. So he did the only thing he could do. He sat down and looked out the window for a while. After a couple minutes, he remembered he was still in the incredibly uncomfortable three-piece suit, and changed into jeans and a t-shirt for the rest of the flight.

About half an hour later, Natasha was no longer faking her sleep and Clint decided to check what she was listening to. Usually she listened to Vivaldi to sleep. She said if she listened to music with words, she sang along in her head and it kept her awake. He reached over and hit the home button on her phone, immediately groaning softly to himself. Quiet Riot. That was bad news. The fact that she was listening to a rock band like Quiet Riot at all meant she was absolutely pissed at him, but add in that she was sleeping through it and Clint ought to start planning his funeral now.
He let out a soft sigh and went back to his seat, settling in. They had a couple hours on the plane still so he might as well get some sleep. He took out his hearing aides and put them in his pocket leaving him in total silence, and closed his eyes to get some sleep before they got back to the compound.