Clint nodded, watching her write. "Banner first," he agreed. "The need for a gamemaker's pretty obvious, and Banner's the logical choice. Shouldn't be hard to win people over at Tony's party. See if maybe someone has a connection with him already. The more information the better." Clint took his free hand and rubbed a few firm circles around his right temple, fighting the tension headache that was starting to form.
The day has slipped away quickly, and they'd accomplished a lot. That was good. They deserved a break; it'd probably be good for them to tuck all these puzzles back into the subconscious for a while. Clint knew that. And yet, the idea of stopping still seemed implausible. "I don't have anything stronger than juice around here," he said apologetically, "'cept for some of that happiness drug Bucky's been championing. It's pretty good. Mellowing." Something in the clot of tension loosened a little, and Clint eased up, trying to spread it out. "If you wanna lay down I can work a little more on your back. If you want. I gotta have something to do with my hands, I'm so..." He sucked in a sharp breath. "You know."