"Not for us," Clint amended, although he hardly looked embarrassed over his poor word choices. He squinted at all the pink and then all the dolls, of which there were entirely too many, but then decided to just go for it. Why not? Fuck it. Clint Barton could make a good time out of most anything, and he wasn't going to do it by halves on his first date.
His first date at a cafe clearly aimed at demographic of little girls aged seven to ten. Awkward.
"Nah," he said, because another day simply wouldn't do. He'd worn a blazer. This had to happen now. "Let's do this. I need to know what that Mini Muffin is all about. Please no ick jokes there are kids around and my ears will bleed." Still, he took her hand and decided they'd take the first step of this really, really weird journey together. It was time for tea and muffins. Hopefully they were muffins.
"If these dolls were all sitting in one bedroom, it'd be the intro to a horror movie," he said cheerfully.