Clint recognized the invitation for what it was, and he appreciated it, was even somewhat surprised. Natasha was not particularly sociable in the sense where she prized time to herself, in fact needed it in order to operate. That could be said for anyone, but it was strong with her to the point where an invitation to stay the night, when he knew she was definitely someone who liked to be alone when she slept, surprised him. But he was noticing these little differences in her, and he had to wonder if this was a result of her being at the hotel, or if things really had changed since he had seen her last.

"I feel like if we get drunk I'm probably in no sound state of mind to venture through my room door anyway," Clint said, feeling he had to cover his bases. "But if you'd rather spend the night alone, I get it."

He craned his neck to look up at her on the couch. "Let's get food," he said. "You need more than my half of a sandwich to maintain that figure. Though the type of drunk I'd like to be requires something stronger than beer, so let's stick to the hard liquor."