[Clint gives a light scoff at the term villains. Heroes, villains, that's all (for lack of a better term) fairytale stuff. That's kids shows and movies and plays and stories told around the fire. That's not real life. It's a hell of a lot messier than that.

But if that's the wording Loki wants to use, he can have it.

And maybe a little warning is appreciated. Sure. It's the least Loki can do.

He finally picks up the glass when the attention turns to him proper, takes a swig, and it's cool and refreshing and probably not poisoned or drugged, but would it matter all that much at the moment if it were? Loki as a distraction has worked, the jitters and the awful churn in his gut and the drums pounding in his chest slowed down, focus and focus and focus instead of spiraling off.]

So you've actually been checking in on me, actually know my history? I just met Kate. I brought her home for Christmas, with the dog. [Does it matter? Does it matter to Loki, for Loki? Does it matter to him if Loki who oversees countless timelines now apparently knows?] If that means anything to you. [More mumbled into his glass. Maybe he'll have to flip through thinking what all the other Clints Bartons have been up to. Maybe he's not exactly unique in the universe.

A humbling thought.]