last of us (show) starters : ❝ goddamn it, i wanna punch you so bad. ❞ ↪ @stauerk
the chimera — or what's left of it at the very least. after his and tony's argument on the hull, the command room was left in shattered glass and a gaping maw that funneled wind. everyone avoided it. everyone avoided each other. as far as he knew, he was the only one here, sitting in the lab and researching some of the readings on the gamma experimentation utah had undergone.
when the door opens, he doesn't meet the sound. bruce has his eyes locked on the screen, peering between pictures and functions and jotted measurements to make sense of how devastating this set of gamma experimentation was going to be for these innocent people. thoughtful tapping of a pen softly against the table he was leaning on, the silence of the room save the whirring of instruments and his own, stifled breathing. ( watching his research once again be used to pursue some sinister goal, to replicate the strongest there is. ) it was almost poetic that tony was the one to shatter his peace.
you already have. he bites his tongue. banner has known stark for . . . maybe nearly half of their lives now. the racing thoughts, tony's obsession over this injustice in the face of someone that he had trusted the most — he's picking at a raw wound because he wants to see it bleed more. he wants to dig down to the bone to see if he can bear the pain. he wants to instigate bruce because he thinks he'll get honesty ; but bruce has never stopped being wholly honest with him. the doctor isn't sure he could lie to him if he tried. maybe that's why stark's barely even allowed him the breath to begin a sentence before throwing accusations and pessimism.
he can hear tony's approach, the rapid pace. bruce shuts his eyes, a deep sigh through his nose. so much he wants to say. as if he wasn't already wrought with heavy guilt every time he looked at tony. banner's shoulders have lowered, now, his form still postured in front of the desk, but he won't avoid this. he won't look at tony, but he doesn't bristle or defend himself or plead with tony to let him have a chance to speak. he's tired, defeated by losses countless, guideless and simply performing a routine because it's all he knows to do anymore. powerless, defeated.
❝ go ahead, tony. ❞ neutral tone, trying to avoid any chiding ( but a part of him can't help but return some of the fire that tony had brought to him ). banner removes his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and index and lays the frames on the desk. ❝ do whatever you want. punch me. curse me. you won't listen to me anyway. ❞