A light might not be a bad idea. It was already windy out that morning (hence the need for sweatshirts) but now it's a right downpour outside. A shame really, because it means less people watching for Jim. Also a shame because the cops had fetched the tracksuit goons already.

Jim can be a good patient when he wants to be. And right now he so wants to be done with this so he can have coffee and food. So he is sitting quite still, gritting his teeth at the sharp sting of the disinfectant spray on his raw burned skin. "Yeah, well. wasn't exactly trying to do it."

Clint gets a short glance and a questioning look. See, the thing is, Jim is as clueless about superhero stuff as they are about Starfleet. And, you know, without that context...
"That sounds suspiciously like your stripper name." Not that that's a bad thing if it is. Just...not what Jim was expecting from his Iowa brother.