Clint raised a brow, his irritation spiking with her attitude. He crossed his arms, annoyance creeping in. "First of all," he said, eyes narrowed. "I wasn't speaking about your brother's death. I was talking about your father defecting to Voldemort's side and the fact that they lost." Merlin. That bloody woman knew how to push his fucking buttons and right now, he just wanted to walk away. "Second. It's how they view it. It's the way it is and you know it. Don't act so bloody surprised."
He watched her walk off and decided it'd be useless to follow her. He wasn't in the mood to bloody argue over her sensitivity to what society thought. She knew the rules and she knew the game. Clint stayed right where he was and leaned against the wall, nodding his thanks when a drink was brought by. He stopped, eyes scanning the crowd, trying not to get into it with Lexi at a bloody Gala event. It wasn't worth it. He raised a brow, catching sight of Bell, Flint and... Hannah. That ought to be interesting. It proved to be a better distraction anyway then watching his fiancee pout over the idiotic drunk comments of the upper elite.
His eyes drifted back to Lexi, watching her talk with the bartender and he rolled his eyes. Some days, he felt like he was always on the bloody defensive with her. Maybe he'd just go diffuse the situation with Hannah and Marcus. Might prove to be more entertaining.