"Wonder why." No, Jim isn't trying your death salsa either, Clint. Unless you dared him to. Because that's totally a thing responsible adults do.

"Speaking of competitions..." Jim pats the casserole he's holding finally. "I decided to enter too, sort of." Uh oh. Jim can't cook. Do you remember those eggs he made bumming at your place, Clint? "But, since I wasn't exactly winning any awards with mine, I decided to up the competition ante. Loser gets to eat some of this with me."

Jim's smirking now. The smirk that usually means a 'dammit Jim' is incoming.

"I do promise it is chili. And I promise not to influence the votes."