@cxpt sent: ”People who don’t fear death are the ones who crave it.” [for bruce]
It's mostly quiet in the lab at this hour. Bruce balances his third (fourth? fifth?) Styrofoam cup of coffee between the tips of his fingers, holding it distractedly to one side while he scribbles a half-legible note in the corner of an already over-full digital whiteboard. The physicist's eyes feel dried out, gritty like he's back in Yemen beneath an unrelenting sun, strung thin on too-little sleep and the persistent compulsion to movejustkeepmovingjust---
The room is quiet, and he senses Rogers at his back even before the other man speaks. Something tense and instinctive spikes between Bruce's shoulderblades, like a muscle coiling, before he abruptly relaxes. Friend, a familiar, rumbling grumble at the back of Bruce's mind concurs. Perhaps the truest friend he's ever had. The scientist pauses in his scribblings, angles a glance over his shoulder.
He and Steve had talked earlier (at least, Bruce thinks that was earlier. Today? How many coffees ago was it?) about the latest threat bearing down on Earth's civilation, the statistics necessary for survival, the ever diminishing roster of Alpha-Class metahumans at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s disposal. And maybe Banner had been looking at it like a math problem (because it is), trying to determine how to increase humanity's odds at any cost, regardless of the potential for... well. Collateral Damage.
Steve hadn't... agreed with that (ha, understatement). Sometimes Bruce forgets he's not like him, or Tony, or Reed. Cap looks at numbers and sees people, which... well.
People who don't fear death are the ones who crave it.
Banner wonders if the other man is aware of just how close that statement hits to the center of Bruce's own lived experiences. Probably. Steve Rogers is anything but stupid, even accounting for the genius IQs in the room with him. Sighing, the physicist tosses his digi-pen on the cluttered counter to his left, taking a long swallow of the now-tepid coffee still in his hand. He grimaces, though whether it's at the bitterness of the brew or in response Rogers's astute observation, is unclear.
"I think the issue is a little more nuanced than that, Captain." Bruce replies, canting his hip against the workbench and eyeing Steve tiredly. "Fear is a subjective concept, especially for people like Us."