Well, at least Clint didn't have to worry about doing anything formal like giving Jamie a tour or something weird like that. Not that Clint's apartment was all that much of a maze -- it was remarkable reminiscent of his old place, in that it was mostly just one long, open plan with a island counter breaking up the kitchen and the living room, and a set of stairs that lead to the miraculously spacious single bedroom and bathroom above.
"Okay, okay," he agreed with a goofy sort of smile, holding his hands up in surrender. "I couldn't help it, I was dirty. But I left the bandages on, so it's not like I wasn't listening..." He ended up on the couch anyway, legs stretched out long in front of him as he struggled to pull his t-shirt off without upsetting any of the bandages on his head or shoulder. Not that it mattered, since Jamie was about to fix it, but still.
"Oh," he said of that completely random and maybe not all that useful information. "That's...good. Are you friends with him, or...?"