The slums are [...] I wanted to say it made me homesickness, but that would be implying that all's well both here and there, and it'd be gross negligence if I silenced a myriad of pressing problems back home, such as trying to scavenge a sufficient food supply to meet growing demand from other survivors joining our base camp, managing proper health care and locating safe shelter within our perimeter. However, here [...] this inherent sense of inequality between classes, and lack of compassion for their fellow being-
I used to worry about whether I was the right kind of person to join Hawkeye, but now I've come to realize that even if the damage that Ultron's done to my world is still present, and will be for generations to come, we're still equals. In life, not just in death. So that's one thing I somehow didn't mess up. Probably helped that people remember what Captain America stood for, and that they reacted accordingly.
Which, well. Touch and go, really. Knock a few heads together. Throw my shield around. Make up a speech on the spot.
I was invited for dinner at some rich guy's house. What the fuck do I do? Dinner table etiquette wasn't covered in the combat training Tony provided for us. And I hate that I know there's such a thing as dinner table etiquette.
Ugh. Are these normal world problems? Because I'm starting to think I missed out on nothing.