Nope. No hippos. Okay, well. Clint considered it for a moment, like maybe he could find a better way to explain and then decided it just didn't matter at all, and dropped it immediately. Fuck hippos. Those guys were assholes anyway.
Clint had to admit, dude was pretty good with dogs. A bit on the formal side, which wasn't really Clint's bag at all, but it was cute enough. Doggy hand shakes and all. Good for him. Lucky seemed to approve too, if his overactive tail wagging had any say on the matter.
"Yeah. Google maps is a live saver," Clint admitted, although he was pretty good at getting the lay of any land quickly enough. It came with growing up on the road, moving city to city, show to show. You learned stuff quick enough. And New York was filled with crowded things and small secrets. Preya wasn't the same, but good in its own right.
He shook the hand offered to him. "Clint Barton. Nice t'meetcha."