tensions running high | a-patriots-heart
Hands skimming over piles and piles of metal scrap and wire, he found the soldering gun and continued the monotonous work, glad to have something to keep him busy. It wasn't the lack of sleep that was really getting to him - he knew he wasn't the only one in this tower to have issues with sleeping, come on - it was the lack of purpose. He had this twisted need to prove that he was still necessary, that he could still function and fight for them, with them.
His hand slipped and the hot tip skimmed the side of his hand and he let out a yelp, dropping the offending tool with a curse. He just barely resisted the urge to kick something and instead stepped away, eyes skimming over anything and everything in the chaos that was his workshop, burnt hand in his mouth.
He glared balefully at the lump of wiring that still needed soldering and sighed, yanking the tool's plug out of the wall with his toes. This was already setting up to be a bad day. Next thing he knew, giant lobsters would be perusing through Grand Central. Either that or Thor would clog the plumbing again. He wasn't sure which was the worse prospect.