Thread: Human Connection [Avengers -- Sprouts & Virginia]

Bruce had been every possible kind of broke before, ranging from barely paying the bills to living on the streets and all of the ugly possibilities in between, but the stressors that came with homelessness were - at least for him - comparatively better to being under the watch of the U.S. military. He didn't long for a time where he had a regular pay cheque and stable housing because those days were far too close to the worst days, too near to a time where he became something horrible. Of course, his present position didn't mean he was out of the woods - there was still SHIELD to contend with. His experience with them had been limited insofar, but he had his suspicions that they were going to be an ongoing problem. Between Nick Fury and Natasha Romanoff, the organization didn't strike him as the kind to give up and beyond that, he couldn't trust them. It wasn't just that they'd already had a containment unit set up for him on their helicarrier, it wasn't just that they had been watching him the entire time he'd been in Kolkata, it was something beyond that. Maybe it was instinct or maybe it was purely paranoia, he wasn't sure, but something felt wrong. I uh, I don't mind if I make people a little uncomfortable as long as they're not dying. Bruce replied, settled into his spot in the kitchen, a pile of American newspapers in front of him, the result of one of the many non-monetary trades he had with someone in the area, a man with a chronic case of peripheral edema. Bruce helped him with his legs and in turn, he brought Bruce all of the information on the United States that he came across, a way for him to stay in touch with what was happening while avoiding the pitfalls of technology. Predictably, there were dozens he hadn't gotten around to reading, having always found himself deciding there were other things he could be doing, other places he should be present in if he wasn't sleeping - every waking moment that wasn't spent working seemed like it was wasted, like he was losing minutes that he owed to the world. For now, with her on the couch, he decided it was alright to pick up a newspaper, to refamiliarize himself with the events of a country he had left behind. He was several papers deep when Theresa spoke, throwing him out of the odd haze he sometimes got into while reading and he looked up, briefly looking faraway before coming back to the present. Of course, yeah. he got to his feet, getting a glass from the counter- he didn't have many of them, it was just him living there after all, and the one in his hand showed a fracture along the side of it, though it was holding together. Talk about metaphors. He brought her a glass of water from one of the enormous distilled bottles he purchased - even if he had resistance to disease, he wasn't particularly keen to catch a parasite from the metro Manila tap water. He set it on the makeshift table and pulled another blanket off the back of the couch, bundling it up to prop it in behind her, helping her sit up enough that she wouldn't drown herself in the glass, but not so much that there was a risk of straining her injury. I feel like I've seen you before. he said, handing the water over.