[Clint isn't sure if having been married to Bobbi makes this whole operation easier or more difficult. A little bit of both, really. It certainly makes it easier to pretend... but then again, he's never been very good at pretending anything.
At least he knows what he should be aiming for, anyways; and he is good at aiming.
Bobbi looks amazing, as always. Blue, red, green, neon pink. Whatever. Fashion has never been Clint's strong suit. Fortunately, he's decided to simply rent a tux in the traditional black and white, and decidedly free of bullet holes.
When it looks as if she's become a bit distracted, Clint taps his own champagne flute against hers, and then raises his eyebrows.] Hey. Dance with me?
no subject
At least he knows what he should be aiming for, anyways; and he is good at aiming.
Bobbi looks amazing, as always. Blue, red, green, neon pink. Whatever. Fashion has never been Clint's strong suit. Fortunately, he's decided to simply rent a tux in the traditional black and white, and decidedly free of bullet holes.
When it looks as if she's become a bit distracted, Clint taps his own champagne flute against hers, and then raises his eyebrows.] Hey. Dance with me?