@iinstinct: silently walks into the kitchen wearing a white bedsheet over her head, eye holes cut in and sunglasses and she just stares at him in silence
See...Here’s the thing. He’s gone, started converting an old penthouse he hasn’t lived in...In years, actually, and never for very long, to be a place for...He’ll call it a clubhouse, sure. Because while it’s intended to be an Avengers space, it’s never just been Avengers that have used those. Theoretically this should mean his home - you know, the one he shares with his literal, legal family - should be for that: A home. A place where he maybe has the erroneous belief he can turn around in the process of making coffee and not feel his soul literally leave his body. It’s not the bed sheet, it’s not the sunglasses (those had better not be his sunglasses, for the record). It’s the way she’s moved so quietly she hasn’t even gotten the hair on the back of his neck to stand up.
And rest assured: Over the years he has definitely learned to tell when he’s being watched.
Coffee sloshes over the rim of his cup as he starts, which is a sure sign she’s caught him wrong-footed. “Jesus H Christ, kid. I swear to God I’m gonna hang a cow bell around your neck.” He’s only half joking, because he figures if he does that, she’ll still somehow manage to not make noise even with said bell, and he’ll be right back here where he is now: Rubbing at his chest under the rt casing to soothe his pulse, which has kicked up to an homage to speed metal, wondering why, again, he can’t just roam around his own home without stumbling across someone who does not live here doing something weird.
Of course, asking that question means he’s opening the door to questioning the rest of his life, and that is something he will pointedly not be doing.
“What is this.” Heart rate approaching normal, he gestures broadly at her entire...Thing. “Ghost of Cousin It? You know it’s still early, right. We’ve got hours before I start doling out the candy, and after this stunt, you’re gonna have to work to see so much as a solitary piece of candy corn.”
