Clint finally moves, turning to glance past the other man's shoulder and into the shed. It's still stocked full, save for a few spots where newcomers have obviously helped themselves.

"Yeah."

Riveting response to Steve's observations. Clint's attention is elsewhere.

"What year?"

Maybe a little blunt, but as far as uniforms go, that one's vintage. And while at one point in Clint's life that might've been a joke, now it's a serious question; time travel is one of the least far-fetched things he's dealt with, lately.