clint and jake lockley are talking about the moon knight system's hanukkah plans and, upon discovering that they have none, has invited bowself over to spend time with them.

clint is nursing an injury he got while jumping out of a window to take a shot. old habits die hard.

clint and jake lockley are sitting in a café, trading stories about their worst informants while playing footsie under the table.

clint is brushing his fingers through bobbi morse's hair where her head is resting in his lap.

clint is brushing the pads of their fingertips over their ring finger, pensive. they still have the most miniscule of tan lines, a ghost of loving bobbi that they're not sure they ever want to leave behind.

clint is petting lucky, a bag of peas pressed against his bruised jaw. first injury of 2023.

clint is fletching arrows.

clint is turning his hearing aids down to ignore kate bishop. she begins furiously signing in his periphery.

clint just fell out of bed from where he'd been hanging over the edge of it. one roll is all it took.

clint is shooting arrows at fixed targets. it's not a challenge, but that's not what the shooting's about. it's venting—calming.

clint is sitting on a roof with peter parker, knocking their ankles together. peter's wearing his spider-man suit while clint's barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. clint's trying to convince peter to come inside to get patched up since he's injured.

clint is alive, surprisingly.

clint's squinting at the stack of letters in his hands. they're finally tackling the mail, dyslexia be damned.

clint whistles loud and sharp. he gets what he wants: lucky scrambling down the stairs to get to him.

clint is taking lucky for a walk. or maybe it's the other way around...

clint tripped over his own two feet because of lucky.