Phil nodded, standing up. He felt slightly irritated at himself, but he couldn't pinpoint why. There was just a nagging feeling that he'd missed something. "You need to get some sleep. I'll wrap the rest up for you. Bedroom's this way." He started walking down the hall, toward the large master bedroom, glancing back to make sure Clint was following him.

Inside the room, he waved his hand at the bed. "Like I said, clean sheets. Bathroom's attached through there, if you want to take a shower." He pointed at the door in the corner. "And there's clothing in the closet, mostly jeans and t-shirts, help yourself." The majority of his wardrobe here was bought at Wal-Mart, his suits all still hanging up neatly in his apartment back home. He'd gotten used to the feel of cheap fabric, but that didn't mean he was bringing any of it back with him when he finally left.

"Do you need anything else?" He hesitated in the doorway, watching Clint. It still felt like there was something he was supposed to say, some opportunity he was missing here, but he didn't trust himself to just start talking. Not when he was trying to pretend it wasn't an enormous relief just to not be alone out here any more, and the Vicodin was making him feel kind of loose and stupid.