"No! God, no." Clint held his hands up defensively. And then, embarrassed, reached up to scrub the back of his neck. "I was just asking... I just wanted to make sure... I do care, you know. About stuff. Despite what you might have heard about me." That he was an assassin. That he was a dick. And that he deserved her scorn.
"I don't want anything bad to happen to anyone." Except the bad guys. "I just... I guess I just got a lot of pent up energy right now. And I'm looking for something to do. That's why I was..." He gave a jerk of his head to the side to the staircase. "Doing pull ups. I ate too many of these cookie things and I'm all keyed up. I just want thinks to go back to normal."
Narrowing his eyes a fraction on Dinah, he looked at her curiously. "Do you want any cookies? They're shaped like koalas."