he still had his hearing. and he was aware, of course, that it was one of those ‘one small blessing’ type situations - but for a man who had come to rely on being able to see hand motions, especially in situations such as these when adrenaline ran high and the background noise was TOO much…- yeah. being able to hear, even if it was not in the most ideal of situations, was better than nothing at all. least. that was what he had to keep telling himself. better than nothing. better than his sight? not at all. if it was a choice ( and clint had thought fairly frequently on such things, especially around the time he’d last lived this rodeo ), then clint knew what he would SACRIFICE, but… did he want to think of the glass as half empty, or as half full? what was more useful, at present moment? for the good of the school, his friends, his family - he KNEW that it was the latter.
“bobbi?” he asked into the darkness, half sure he’d misheard a voice that he’d know - well. haha. blind - and half just pure and simple relieved. he wasn’t looking in her exact right direction, eyes settled somewhere over her head, and he realizes with a start that he doesn’t need any more verbal confirmation or the ability to SEE her to know that she’s right there, because - with her arms wrapped around him so tight, they’d close enough that he can smell familiar shampoo that he’d never forget. “i’m glad you’re-” alright. okay. fine. take your pick of filler words, because clint…- forgot about them all, completely, as she pulled away. “i haven’t seen him-” it’s bad wording. BAD, atrocious, terrible wording. he hasn’t seen anything for ten minutes, now, and the gears in his mind are only starting to turn, realization only beginning to sink in that if she was asking him… “you had him. he was with you, bobbi, i was- he was with you?”
she’s good in the chaos. she really is. it’s what she’s spent her life doing. being good in the chaos. bobbi can direct herself. she can force her body into something resembling the order it needs to be in. bobbi’s agent thirteen. an avenger. a biochemist. she’s ready to take on anything coming her way. mist ? what’s mist to her ? she was picked up by shield for a reason. bobbi has always had a piece of war living inside of her. phenomenally woman & phenomenally indomitable. she’s survived the loss of a child, being shot up by a chemical cocktail to save her life, fought robots, men, and mutant alike. her hearing is practically nothing. asl is as much her language as english & spanish are. but she doesn’t think she can survive losing lark. she draws the line there. she was sure he was the best soul she’d ever met. the only person in their family to make it out alive & intact, not the patchwork people that assembled ( patchwork people & broken bobbi, she corrects ). not lark.
she blinks. once, twice, three times. she’s fluent in asl, but still sure she is mis-interpreting. he’s... he must be joking. ❝ clint, now really isn’t the time for this ! where ━ where is he ? ❞ desperation leaks heavily into her own voice, though she cannot hear it, but she can rather feel it. how it leaks into every essence of her being. lark. her boy. her youngest son. lost in the chaos. she’s swarmed with what she should have done. how she should have taught him to protect himself instead of trying to preserve him from what bobbi & clint both knew much too young. she wanted to give lark a chance at what she never got. he was too good in a way bobbi never was. and now it was going to get him killed. ❝ amor, amor, where is lark ? ❞
