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"Okay..." Tony flipped up his visor as he landed. "...who had turn into animal totem in the next time we get hit by magic pool?"
Peering up into a cloudless sky, Steve shielded his eyes with his hand. "Clint."
"Pot's at $720; you think he took the hit on purpose?"
"Not after the last time when you were a three year old for a week," Natasha muttered, Clint's uniform in one hand, weapons in the other.
"Hey, at least I was happy with McNuggets."
"There's that," Coulson sighed, stepping back as Clint screeched and pigeon guts splashed against the pavement.