The words hooked around Clint's ribs and squeezed, and he had to force himself not to break eye contact, to keep his tone level. "It's not a lesson that you can have explained to you. Not until after it happens."
Natasha was the reason Clint had never chosen to mentor a Tribute ever again, unless you counted his filing in for Erskine after the conclusion of the 67th Games. He knew that there must be mentors who didn't get attached to their surviving Tributes, but he never knew how they did it. He certainly couldn't.
It was yet another burden he wished he'd have warned her about in advance, and yet he knew that even if given the chance to do it again, he still probably wouldn't have. Some things, he couldn't explain. Some things, he just had to hope for. Not that Clint had much hope left to spare, anymore. But the little he did, he was always willing to share with her.
He reached out and took her hand, lacing his fingers loosely with hers. "Listen to me," he said, his voice low. "It's going to be all right."