"Woah, woah. What did I say right outside? What did I say? I said don't freak, this counts as freaking, damnit." Clint put his hand on the gun to force it down, clenching his own teeth. "No guns inside, okay? None." God, he was so totally done with this shit. Between the crazy that was assassin hobo and the glum tailor guy.
"Okay, this is the complicated part." For all that Clint knew, Jefferson was aware of the 'face twin' thing, then again his expression led Clint to believe that no, he very much wasn't. Which meant explaining it to Jefferson and to brainwashy Bucky, which likely wouldn't be met with a terrible amount of acceptance judging from the gun reaction. "This is Bucky... or Agent Barnes, technically, although he tends...not to answer to that a lot, we're gonna go with Barnes." Because Clint just wasn't sure if Bucky would cut it right then. "And this is Jefferson, remember, the don't shoot because handler and could you please put your swiss army collection of weapons away and curb the killy killy complex, please?"
There was a reason Clint wasn't given recruits, hell, there was a reason Clint often didn't deal with anyone beyond his own teammates. His patience was reserved almost exclusively for his assignments.
"Barnes has the um... unfortunate assignment of... coming back here." Clint figured there was really only so much he could say without freaking Bucky the hell out to the point of the shooty-shooty again. "And he needs a handler." And Clint was pretty sure his tone sort of indicated where he was going with that. "For the duration of his assignment to Marrowood, you know, someone to give him his missions?" Hint hint nudge fucking nudge.