Something isn't right about this. Clint doesn't know Albert, and it makes him unsure, unmoored. His gaze flicks over Albert, the way his skin peels away from his metal skull, the space he takes up, and over the rooms around them. It doesn't feel right, something's missing. The walls fritz, staticky for a moment, and his gaze slides over with intent.

"Loki." He dismisses, although there's a dark edge he cannot fight, lip curling with the beginning of a snarl.