It was rather late in the evening when she'd arrived and give the fact that he was here, in France, for Quidditch, Lexi expected him to likely be in bed. As she grew closer to him, however, certain sounds reached her ears; sounds that she would recognize anywhere. As there was no other voice but Clint's, she could take a good guess at what it was he was doing and that brought an amused grin to her face.
Sure enough, peeking around the corner found the rather delightful sight of a half dressed, shirtless Clint stroking himself. She was torn between staying quiet and simply enjoying the view or speaking. Leaning against the door frame, she watched him for a moment longer, realizing how much she'd missed him. She'd gotten so used to him being just a touch away that it felt like forever since the last time his hands had been on her skin.
Unable to help it, she laughed softly. "I'd ask if you needed a hand, but it looks like you've got it under control." Smiling, she pushed off from the door frame and headed toward him. She hadn't wondered who or what he was thinking about. She supposed it said a lot to know without a doubt that he'd been thinking of her.