She doesn't need a chaperone Clint, geez. She just needs her personal space respected right now. His announcement is met with a little shrug; he's the professional good guy, she's not going to argue with what he decides to do with the jerks.

There's something charming about being so blithely indiscriminate like that. Making a game of making people feel good is kind of sweet. She's just having a day, so her arms are folded and she's stimming while they walk upstairs.

The apartment is. Well. Exactly what she expected. She went to college and she's seen worse, but still. Not impressed. Watching Jim trying to use the coffee machine is amusing though.

"Not on fire. Want me to do that?"