Agent Barton, Hawkeye, Modern day Robin Hood, cocky bastard. Call him what you'd like, he'd answer to just about anything. Not that that's necessarily a good or a bad thing, but think what you will of it, him.

He doesn't care.

Borderline obsessive compulsive when it comes to cleaning, counting and sharpening his arrows, practicing as well; the master archer seems to have a ton of patience for everything but himself when he screws up somehow.

Clint's the sturdy silent type in the way that he only speaks when spoken to, and only gives out his opinion or butts into a conversation when he feels it absolutely necessary to do so. He's also the kind of man that won't say seven words if three will do just as well.

But know that he has his reasons for being this way.

Natasha knows herself that the man hasn't always been like this. But he's grown and learned from his own mistakes, and even though some people see it as the archer being stuck up, or having a god complex of some sorts, Clint really only is just watching his own back.

There was a time, when he would speak freely and not worry about what he was saying or what kind of impression he was making on people. But that time had long since passed. He would be risking too much if he were to act that foolish again.

"Agent Barton," at the call of his name, the man looked up in question. His silent, stony gaze pierced through the nameless, lower ranking SHIELD agent's hardened disguise. Of course people would be hesitant to approach him. Of course. Clint said nothing, in lieu of waiting semi-impatiently for what the agent had to say to him.

"Colonel Fury has requested that you come to see him immediately. He wishes to speak to you and Agent Romanov about something." Clint narrowed his eyes but nodded his head. The nameless agent proceeded to walk away from him, his pace slightly quicker than normal.

No. Agent Barton hadn't always been this way. But he had his reasons for being what he had become.