Notes: TBD.
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"I trust you," Clint says and doesn't look up from where he's disassembling the gun he'd been using to clean it.
The range is quiet and still. More than it was when Clint had been alone and shooting targets. He gives it a few minutes before looking up at Barnes. The man is staring at Clint with a dumbfounded look of incomprehension. Holding the loaded gun Clint had tossed him like it was a live grenade.
Clint grins at him and goes back to cleaning. Focusing on getting every part clean in the shortest amount of time possible. Tension coils up inside of him the longer the silence stretches but he doesn't let that show at all. He works quickly but thoroughly and has the piece cleaned in minutes.
Barnes is still staring at him like he's suddenly grown a third eye. Clint walks up to him and adjusts his grip on the gun a bit. Barnes' hand move instinctively to the correct grip with a little prodding. There's a question waiting to be asked and Clint answers before it can be.
"Only an idiot would think you needed a gun to kill any of us. Pretending your harmless unarmed is just stupid so you might as well keep your skills sharp," because Barnes is a fighter, and he's going to be part of the team as soon as his head gets settled. There's no point denying it. Clint takes a step away and gives the man a slow wink. "Plus it's always nice to watch a hot guy on the range."
Clint strolls out casually, feeling eyes on his back the whole way out. He waits a few minutes once out the door and smiles when he hears the faint sound of the first shot being fired. Score one for Clint.
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