"Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No."
His fingernails etch red half-moons into his palms, but he keeps his voice calm and quiet, even as the grief and rage spills cold through him, as his eyes, so steady, begin to gloss with the tears he won't shed.
("You should have seen his little face. Just try, okay? I'm going to bed. I love you.")
"I'm here because I made a promise."
Only a little more, he tells himself, tells her. A little more, and this will all be over.
Rogers considers him for a long moment, and he wants to sneer at it, the fabled Steve Rogers empathy. His compassion. "We know you lost someone," Rogers says, and there's a long moment as he struggles with himself, a battle that plays out in minute flickers across his face and in his flat stare.
"I lost... " Each word is ripped from him; each word is ruthlessly dragged down into his quiet, level tone. "Everyone. And so will you."
With that promise, he finally looks away, then flicks another switch.
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His fingernails etch red half-moons into his palms, but he keeps his voice calm and quiet, even as the grief and rage spills cold through him, as his eyes, so steady, begin to gloss with the tears he won't shed.
"I'm here because I made a promise."
Only a little more, he tells himself, tells her. A little more, and this will all be over.
Rogers considers him for a long moment, and he wants to sneer at it, the fabled Steve Rogers empathy. His compassion. "We know you lost someone," Rogers says, and there's a long moment as he struggles with himself, a battle that plays out in minute flickers across his face and in his flat stare.
"I lost... " Each word is ripped from him; each word is ruthlessly dragged down into his quiet, level tone. "Everyone. And so will you."
With that promise, he finally looks away, then flicks another switch.