[It's only a few seconds, yet it also somehow seems to happen even faster than that. A flash of something in the helpful stranger's eyes, turning to something calmer almost instantly. The inherent strength in the young man, stronger than Clint knows a person who looks like that (no offense) ought to be able to demonstrate.

The great huge enormous length of metal that takes him this long to finally parse that's a god damn sword.]

Jesus, [the tone of which should still come across as surprised curse of an exclamation even to someone of a vastly different culture] you're kind of a beast. [(affectionate???)] Hell'd you get that from, rip it off the train?

[Mm. Hm. Shit. He was probably asked something himself, huh.] Hey, uh, I can't hear too well, so just--let's take it slow? Can kinda read lips. [A skill he developed earlier in life which has only gotten better and come more in handy. But extremely imperfect. It ain't like the movies, that's for sure.] Dunno where I'm going. Away? In case of secondary explosions.

[Hell of a sentence for his cotton-y mouth to slur out, but that feels like an important start.]