Lincoln gave the slightest of nods and replied with a nondescript, "Mm." His hands had come to rest on Clint's arm wrapped around him, though. It felt nice to be held when he was feeling... well, he didn't really know what he was feeling. He was pretty sure he would figure that out better when he wasn't so hungover. Things usually seemed a whole lot worse when you were hungover, though it had all been a pretty shit experience. Either he had never been directly treated like he had been last night, or he hadn't had an issue with it before he decided to bite the bullet and want something official with Clint. It was a bit hazy, and giving him a bigger headache trying to figure it out.

He sighed. Clint was really trying here, but Lincoln knew him. He knew this would be hard work. It would be hard work to not storm out and beat the living shit out of the guy who did this. "I don't know who it was. I hadn't seen him before. He was just a faceless fuck who attached himself to the VIP party. A lot of people were trashed, there was a lot of hard booze. As soon as it started happening and it got rough, a couple of friends intercepted and helped me. I'll be fucking fine. I'm always fucking fine. After everything lately, my head's just all over the fucking place."