Clint could get that -- how it could be hard to be himself after seeing so much shit. Being involved in so much awful that it was hard to see or even know that the good in stuff even existed anymore. Everyone coped differently. Clint veered wildly in two different directions, when it came to stuff like that.
Deeply traumatic things left him useless and mopey and his life was fueled by naps and self loathing.
But weird and uncomfortable stuff? It just made him go kind of silly, like he believed that there was no better fix to a situation than by using humor that didn't suit the moment. It worked for him. Or, it sort of worked for him. Depended whose opinion it was. Bobbi wouldn't agree, no doubt, but Kate might. Natasha, too. Hell, even his version of Bucky.
Well, not his. He didn't own the guy. They just got on in a weird way. Sometimes.
"Yeah, different kinda expo no doubt," he agreed, nibbling on his chocolate covered sticks. "Like, science nerds and comic nerds aren't the same. I mean, they probably cross over like one of those circle diagrams, but it's different? And soap isn't an anomaly. People who care to use it though? Phewwww! Yeah. Hard to come by, I guess. Anyway. I'm Clint. If you forgot. Or didn't know. I dunno?"