Clint hadn't meant to startle Coulson. He hadn't even realised that he'd been treading so lightly, though it was force of habit now, more than anything. Having to be silent was kind of paramour to keeping yourself alive in his field. If he made too much noise, he'd probably end up six feet under before his mission had even begun. It was almost telling, how long Coulson had been out here, that he couldn't even tell when Clint was hovering around any more. He used to be one of the few, bar Natasha, that was always just aware of his presence.

"That sucks," he said, sparing Coulson a side long glance. He wasn't about to get used to him being in civvies any time soon. He'd never really been around Coulson with him wearing anything other than his crisp and pristine suits. It was… novel. He kinda liked it. "That Duff guy is the best. I can get on board with his bacon-everything idea."

He grinned, briefly, but it slipped as Coulson cleared his throat a second time. There was a spike of worry at that, and he nudged his knee against Coulson's, brow furrowing. "I got enough. Don't worry about me. Need me to grab you something?"