post-PFSB EP

Clint walks through the door into his (empty) apartment, and slings the bounce-y ball with all of his force into the bathroom. He hears it hitting off of the tiles before there're a series of plastic thuds as containers are knocked onto the floor, then silence. He sighs; tries to breathe deep, but can't manage it. He pinches the bridge of his nose instead, and slides down the wall so he's resting on the balls of his feet, facing the front door.

He can do this. He just --

He just.