“That is not food,” Natasha said, looking at Clint's bowl with distaste visible on her face. To show that much, she must have thought it was truly disgusting.
He shook his head. “You are not a good friend. You know that, right?”
She frowned. “How is not good friendship to tell you that you are eating something inedible that should give you food poisoning that will keep you off missions for a month? Again? I would think that shows I am a good partner. I'm not letting you finish that.”
She took the bowl from him and threw the whole plastic container away.
“You shouldn't have done that.”
“How could you eat that? It's not even recognizable as food.”
“Barton!” Hill said. “What the hell is this? I thought you said you liked it. Did you lie to me? Because if you did, if you really won't eat my food—”
“I did like it. It just got stolen by the food police,” he said. He looked at Natasha and lowered his voice. “Told you you were a bad friend.”
Natasha glared at him and said nothing.