Pre-Infinity War: Perfectly happy, full of hope and life, waiting in anticipation for a movie that probably deserves the hype.
Post-Infinity War: Shaking, tired from dealing with a clusterfuck of emotions, traumatised to the point that the colour purple triggers nightmares starring a giant Barney impersonator with a ball-sack for a chin.
Okay but after the remaining avengers realise what has happened, after the ashes have fallen, Natasha searches for a phone. It takes a few agonising minutes, but she finds one. She knows the number by heart, and she’s almost sick to her stomach as it rings. Natasha waits. She waits for Clint to pick up. The dial tone ringing out after a few more seconds. She curses, calls again. And again. Maybe he left his hearing aids out again, or maybe he’s having a nap, or training with Kate. After the seventh time dialling, her blood runs cold. Natasha waits for Clint to answer the goddamn phone. He never does.