As if Darcy Lewis would ever turn her nose up at the chance for consuming something chocolately. Wordlessly, she curls a hand around the mug and raises it to her lips, blowing on the drink before taking a sip. It’s sweet, decent, but most importantly, it’s warm.
"Thanks," she murmurs against the brim of the cup. "Needed this." Taking another sip, Darcy closes her eyes and focuses on the warmth spreading through her body for a moment.
When Clint mentions going out, her eyes snap back open. “Seriously? We get cell service here? Jesus, that’s impressive.” Wrapping both hands around the mug, she leans forward to rest her hips against the counter.
"What if I need you to open a pickle jar? Is that worthy of a phone call?"
Clint nods because he get it - no really, he does. He learned to respect the small things a long time ago. Darcy’s expression of contentment while she drinks her hot chocolate is one he understands. It’s not easy to be completely relocated with a complete stranger for an unknown amount of time.
"Yes. We do." He smirks, wondering if she’ll want to call Jane - or well - anyone else. He expected a young girl (jeez, Barton, how old are you again? ) like herself would have an active social life.
He cracks a smile at that - it’s a little rough and doesn’t quite reach his eyes - but it’s the first smile he’s had since they met up.
"How’d I go from Avenger to Darcy Lewis’s personal pickle jar opener?"
He sipped his hot chocolate, “You can call me. For whatever reason.”