Being there, in the moment, it almost made Bucky want to sort of forget why he'd come in the first place. Already, he just felt a lot lighter. It was something he'd discovered happened a lot whenever he was in Clint's company. During a time when he'd felt consistently weighed down by one thing or another, this was like a breath of fresh air. It made him wonder; maybe he should let it be. He was afraid by talking about what he'd came to it would make that lightness go away. He didn't want that for himself and especially not for Clint.
Bucky leaned against the side of the counter, facing him, not sitting but resting against it without putting a lot of thought into it. He Clint looked cool and collected, and the way his response rolled off his tongue so naturally made Bucky feel at home in his presence.
"No complaints," he assured him. "Other than maybe the offensive artwork hanging up over there." He nodded toward the centaur. "But I can overlook it." Bucky took a beat then, and had to decide which way he wanted to steer this conversation. One way would lead to just shooting the shit like he wanted to hang out, and the other led to more difficult territory to navigate through. The other was a risk.
"You know I have to like the coffee if I keep coming back despite the lack of caffeine." His eyes met Clint's and his lips pulled a little smirk. "Or maybe it's not the coffee that keeps me coming back." Bucky knew which direction he wanted to go in, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the other one for a minute first.