"Well, Florida's kind of special on its own, no matter where anyone is from," Clint said, bemused. "I'm definitely not talking about it but I think we can all agree it's in a league of its own."
The doors dinged open and Clint lead Matt through them into the hall, catching the nearest room number before turning in the direction of Matt's room. "If I had to guess, I'd say he was from the same place as you. Most of the Avengers are." They'd seen some shit, but significantly less shit than Clint had seen over the years.
"As for what we do -- ah. Well. Nat -- the Black Widow," Right, Matt wouldn't be intimately knowledgable of her in this world, Clint guessed, if he didn't know the Avengers. "She runs a bit of a patrol group, so there's that. Otherwise it's a lot of finding new hobbies and waiting for stuff to happen. This one's your room. There's braille on the door plaques if that helps at all?" Had that always been there?