Maryanne and Clint
Clint nodded, reaching out to gently brush away a stray tear from her jaw with the back of his finger. "You look happy." he commented, knowing all to well that happy could be a very temporary thing in that sort of situation.
He chewed the inside of his lip a moment, he'd never showed it to someone else before, but he reached in to his coat and pulled out the five by eight inch photo, holding it toward her. "I was fourteen. Was the first bow that was really mine. Kind of the first anything that was really mine." he told her, glancing at his brother. "That was before everything went to hell between us."