"Heeeey, I wore gloves!" he defended. "... Mostly."
He stopped his pacing when she said circuses were a dying breed, clutching his chest. "Ow! Why you gotta hit so hard?" She had said it gently, but the truth hurt. But he knew that was the case even before he uttered it. Circuses were dying, weren't what they used to be. Not too long ago the elephant that had been like a nanny to him had died, succumbing to age finally in the sanctuary she had retired in. Another thread snapped from a short childhood.
For a moment he peered at her like he did think it was a quip. But then tilt his head, realizing it wasn't. Because yes, it was nice to thank her in person and for her to see how he was getting on, and he'd do the same for her, but Maria Hill was a busy person who found gestures of mere condolence or checking in awkward, even if she had managed better in recent years.
So next Dick was considering swiftly, so in the next five seconds, he held a palm up, leaning back against one of the leg lift machines with his hip and heel, a precarious lean for many. "You know I can't kill anyone ever, right? As in... there's no situation where I would take that shot."