It's both irritating just how easily these hallways pick up sounds and amplify them. Sure, it means he can hear everything rather easily, but so can anybody else who happens by. Clint's steps might be fairly quiet, but that's not enough when he's used to being near silent. At least it's better than whoever is following down the same pathway as he is, because it means he can track them by the cadence of their footsteps. But the echoing noise is messing with his senses, and Clint's not a bat, he can't use echolocation to pick his way through unerringly.

The lights flickering out serves to let his hearing sharpen, now that he knows he can't rely on his vision at all. But that's not really helpful, his vision is what he relies on most after all. He pauses, grip tight on his make shift weapon, slowly scanning from left to right. The footsteps are closer now, slow in the dark, and he can hear a faint grumble.

But that voice had seemed familiar, quiet as it was, and Clint turns on his heel. Again, he pauses, head cocked in case they make another sound. Beneath the sound of footsteps, the twinned breathing is loud, so he slows his breath. A slow sip of air, a slow exhale out - quiet, quiet, quiet. He hates being hunted, something always goes wrong.