@intohero / “this is about you.” accepting / set it off.
staving off the headache that’s already begun to hit him like a bag of bricks or a train headfirst ( pun intended ) just seems about impossible now that steve’s gotten on his ass about making choices that are less than ideal in the situation. he rubs at his eyes, exhausted, the bags darker than they usually are. insomnia is one thing, coupled with his paranoia and general workaholic work ethic, he’s become the master of avoiding sleep and doing everything else outside of laying his head down. true, he hasn’t actually closed his eyes properly for the last four days, and really, he could edge his way to an entire week, but between assigned cases, some general tech work, and having to somewhat maintain his relationships with the people that exist outside of his head, he’s coming to a screeching halt. and crash. he’s going to crash.
“ see, it doesn’t have to be about me, ” he retorts all too easily, too familiar with the act of deflection and ignorance of oneself. he rolls his shoulders out, stiff and tired and he probably needs a thorough massage of some kind to work out the knots in his muscles. “ it’s not like cap’n fury has been shooting eye daggers at me. ” easy, that, to offload the pressure of going home to get some sleep. at worse, he’ll drop by a bar, get a drink off the clock. a hand comes to scratch at the back of his neck, and then he shoots a finger gun at steve’s chest. “ but he’s been on your ass, huh? haven’t solved that case, have you? need some help? ”