While the winter had not been as bad as his memories had served him, the Captain isn’t exactly one for the cold anymore. It doesn’t necessarily affect him, but there is a dislike for the ice that he wakes up to, the frost on everything that melts in the afternoon sun. Shaking his head, he does agree with the other man with a grunt, shoulders rounded over his glass as he shifts back towards the bar quietly.
It’s thankfully not sullen, more worn down from time and tried patience. The same as others who came to the bar to take time off from work or family or whatever else they were dealing with.
Granted, Steve didn’t have any of that to worry about, but there were things he fought through daily that he hopes most wouldn’t understand.
It’s always worse somewhere else, Steve agrees with a nod.
“Food,” he grumbles, taking a small swish from his glass. The answer is both right and wrong, but it’s the best he can do in the circumstances. “Sometimes you just need to get out from under the bright lights of the living and take in places you remember from. Well…”
A long time ago, at this point. But he can still see the fresh marks of distilled paint and, if he concentrates, he can hear carts outside on the road instead of cars. Well, not only cars. He wasn’t that old.
“Wasn’t expecting company though,” he does admit, glancing to the side. Especially not this company, but it couldn’t hurt to have someone around. The path that he’d set walking into this place had only been going down and at least now, there was a stopper to those bitter thoughts. “What brings you back to town, Doctor? Please don’t tell me I need to suit up…”
Could be fun though. He could use a good rumble every once and awhile.
When the bartender returned, Bruce ordered a bottle of water rather than a refill. His hand flexed around the glass as the temptation rose to order another, but he resisted and slid the glass aside.
“Food...” Bruce repeated as he gave another look around the dingy bar. Why a man would choose to eat in this place over... Denny’s? Even McDonalds, he didn’t know. Especially when they weren’t drunk out of their mind and couldn’t taste the food anyway.
Bruce gave the other a side-glance. Now, that he understood. Bruce had his times when he needed to... get away.
... Okay, those times were all the time. He was an introvert. He preferred to be alone. Especially if being alone meant he had a lab or at the very least, a computer to himself.
“I get you. Sorry for disturbing,” Bruce said, though he made no move to leave. He owed a tab at the moment, anyway. Popping open his bottle of water, he took a sip of it.
Bruce brought his hand up to remove his glasses, using his shirt to clean the lens as he chuckled. “I hardly doubt they would send me if we were needed to suit up. Not that I suit up, anyway.” Bruce added. “Haven’t they given you a phone? I’m surprised they haven’t set up SMS alerts for suiting up, or we could have a large signal in the sky, like Batman.”
He was rambling at this point, but it was better than awkwardly sitting in silence, in a dingy bar, with Steve, and neither of them getting drunk.
“I’m working on a few things, besides, every time I get more than a hundred miles out of New York, Fury has agents poking and prodding at me until I get frustrated and come back.”
