In an alley fighting five men by himself was a blond, a cocky blond.
He frowned, the image wavering a few times, he couldn’t really tell what was real, the situation was both so similar and so different from his memories. They were broken and unclear, but he knew one thing, he ha to protect the blond, that’s what he always did.
He stepped in, between the two of them, the five men went down easy, the blond man bent down to grab something from one of them, he snorted and tossed it down again, “If it’s so important you can keep it,” he muttered, a playing card laying on the unconscious man’s face.
"That was it?" he asked, frowning as he approached, "A playing card?"
"I guess, I found it on the ground and picked it up, two blocks later, here we are," the blond shrugged, "Thanks by the way, didn’t need the help, but I appreciate it."
He nodded slowly, “Sure…”
"Name’s Clint Barton, you?" he asked holding out his hand for a shake, he looked at the hand and then back at the blond- Clint.
He didn’t have an answer, at least not yet. He only stared at the man blankly. He didn’t know why he’d helped him in the first place.
"Oookay," Clint said taking his hand back with a little confused smile, but hey he could respect the silent type, "So…how about some breakfast…my treat? You like pancakes?"
He nodded slowly, he was pretty sure he did.