Hawkeye: 1г—4 -

"Watch," he said, handing her the tool. "Long, even strokes. Don't look at where the blade is; look at where it's going. Like leading a target."

He ignored her, running a calloused thumb over the rough edge. This was the "1x4" project: a simple set of trophy racks for Kate’s growing collection of "World’s Mediocre-est Archer" awards. But for Clint, it was a rare moment of quiet. No high-stakes missions, just the smell of sawdust and the rhythmic shhh-shhh of a hand plane. Hawkeye: 1Г—4

"I’m telling you, Kate, it’s all about the grain," Clint muttered, squinting through his hearing aids at the piece of wood. "You rush the cut, you splinter the soul. Precision isn’t just for trick arrows." "Watch," he said, handing her the tool

Kate took the plane, her movements tentative at first, then finding a groove. She felt the resistance of the wood—the way a 1x4 wasn't just a commodity from a hardware store, but a piece of something that required patience. Like leading a target