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"Okay, not exactly a fortress, but it'll do, right? It's my aunt's place. She's in Florida for the winter." Kate says as she unlocks the door to her safe house and they walk in.
Clint hands over the bag of medical supplies to Kate. "Here. I need you to clean your wounds. Use this. Use soap, this and disinfect it."
"All right. I'm going back to your apartment to get that suit." Clint announces and looks at Heather, who is already making himself comfortable on the couch. "You stay here and make sure she's out of trouble. I'll be back."
Heather scowls with disapproval. "You want me to babysit her?"
"You're the one who wanted to eat Chinese with me. Now bear it."
"But she's not fucking Chinese." Heather argues, referring to Kate, who rolls her eyes at him.
"And Barney, no funny business." Clint tells his brother. It's more like a demand.
"Barney? As the purple dinosaur?" Kate teases.
"Barney is what my family calls me. You stick with Heather." Heather throws a glare at the girl. "And that dinosaur is magenta. Not purple. I watched that fucking show with my nephew. I know what I saw."
"You don't get to argue and win about my childhood absolute favourite, Barn-meister. I grew up watching that show. Barney is a purple tyrannosaurus-rex with a green tummy and green spots on his back and his tail and yellow toes." Kate argues back with her theory.
"Will you two stop that bickering?" Clint groans, fed up with the drama. "Jesus, You both are the same."
"Oh, yes, Clint, you may enter my apartment. Don't you need my keys?" Kate asks, rummaging through her bag to find her key, when Clint goes to the door.
"Nope. I'm good." Clint says before closing the door.
As Kate disappears into the bathroom, Heather walks into the kitchen and looks through the pantry cupboards to find an iconic snack container sitting in it, waiting for him. He grabs one and opens the lid, taking a handful amount of Pringles to his hand and shoving them into his mouth.
He sighs in delight when the potato crisp snack dissolves in, filling his tastebuds with it's delicious taste.
When he's done, he stumbles back to the couch which is nearest to the television. He turns it on with the remote, staring at the screen.
Few minutes later, the one-eyed dog jumps on the spot next to him, placing it's head on his lap, whining for his attention.
Heather chuckles at the dog and pet its head. "You're a good dog."
