Clint was in and out of consciousness hearing murmurs and whispers here and there. Every now and again he would feel a cool damp cloth pat his head. Today though Clint was feeling extremely parched like his dry mouth was an ashtray kept at taverns. His body awoke him to the need for water. His eyes fluttered and the light of a window made it hard to see and he brought a hand to block the light seeping through his parted fingers. He was in a bedroom; there was a window to the left with the shutters open and a cool breeze drifting in. It was quite peaceful.

Blinking a few more times he could see through blurred eyes as he slowly started to focus and his mind slurry was starting to coalesce into something akin to a brain. his hands wrapped in cloth bandages. ‘Right’ he thought he could still smell the smoke in his nostrils and he still felt the sweat of terror and the feeling at his chest began to tighten starting to remember the night…

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He was so wrapped up in the shadow of the night he didn’t hear footsteps on the wood and when the door creaked open. In walked a beautiful and familiar sight.

"Hey there sleepy head. You always could sleep through a raging stampede. How you feelin'?"

Clint tried to parse words, but his cracked lips and dry cotton-mouthed throat just croaked an unintelligible rasp.

"Oh," Luna steps to the bedside and pours water from a pitcher into a ringed mug. "Here we go, only the finest" she good-naturedly laughs and brings the rim of the cup for him to take a sip.

It was really nice, hearing her voice again. Clint takes her hands and the cup from Luna and just holds it silently to his chest.

"…Hey…" Clint just lazily smiles.