[ He looks down at the little boy—seeming so unafraid of someone so fearsome—and the Winter Soldier speaks, slow and soft, less to comfort the child and more because he was so unused to his own voice. ]
—what about you?
I should be asking the same thing, shouldn’t I?
{ The sunlight is behind the strange man, so when he looks up at him he has to squint. For as small as the boy is, he’s seen taller, fought meaner. His big brother taught him how to fight the bigger ones, the meaner ones. And even if he was afraid, which he would never say he would (even at eight years old), Clint believed everyone deserved a chance. Especially this dirty looking hobo. } Not really. { The boy points down the street } I live right down there, a couple blocks.
