From home. Phil feels something in his chest grab and start to squeeze.

But Hawkeye is rambling again with all boiling nerves, so when he walks in towards the kitchen he sets a hand on the man’s shoulder and squeezes gently. His Mantled breeze swirls lazily, a light touch over Hawk’s face. “It’s okay. I mean it. I’ve had bad weeks, I’ve had worse years. You’re not any messier than I’ve been, ehn?”

He turns away to poke through the cabinets. “I’ll let you buy me dinner next time. Thanks for letting me help. Pull out extra, I’m making leftovers.”