The cruise never seemed to end. The children of the sea hadn't yet reached children of the corn levels of chaotic, but Clint couldn't help but draw parallels. It'd been six days since they left shore, yet he still couldn't relax. Usually he managed to ease into vacations after a short time, but the man kept distancing himself instead on this one: from his wife, from his kids, from the friend he himself pressured to join them. Still, he pushed himself to attend meals at least and made an honest effort to periodically act like he wanted to be here. Laura saw through him, of course, but he wouldn't expect anything different from her. They already talked about it.
Barton put his fork down despite not having eaten much. After a beat of silence, he turned his gaze to Bruce, "You're coming to ours for Thanksgiving this year, right?"
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