tampered | (no subject)

When; Saturday, 10/27
Rating; Unknown, but Circus-related body horror in many threads
Characters; Bruce Banner, Luke, Serrure, Sif, Asami Sato, open to anyone in City Solutions or with a good reason to be there
Summary; Bruce has ended up treating several of the Circus' victims and now they're cluttering up his lab and apartment. Open post for people to visit Luke, Serrure, and Asami or pester Bruce (and possibly Sif)
Log;

Bruce's lab and apartment hadn't been intended as a makeshift hospital ward, but there they were. He'd set Asami up in his bedroom and Luke and Serrure were still kept in separate rooms to keep their magnetism from dragging their wounded bodies back together.

He's immediately available by network, but at the moment he's in his kitchen brewing up some chamomile tea. More accurately the water's heating and he has his forehead pressed against the stainless steel door of his fridge.

[ooc: Just set up threads for the various temporary residents for easy visitation.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And my charming company?

Thank you for being here and knowing and not minding.

You can compliment me another day. [She smiles, and makes to leave before pausing. Truth be told, she will probably not visit again. Yes, they may try and attempt to be on friendly terms, but there will always be hesitance and alertness on her side. And she knows so little of him, of Luke, that he would not take a priority on her visitation list. So, most likely she will not see him vulnerable or in pain again, but recuperated when he finally is.

And she remembers he said he liked being close to people. And the story of the cave, which could be true as much as it could be a well-spun story. Still, it has her turning around again, and walking solemnly to his bedside one more time.

She reaches out and wraps her hand around his wrist. Touch. As much as she can and will give, but to last him some, in case the tale was true.]

I shall, I think, I will write you an ode. I am already writing Axl one, it seems the best way.

[He thinks Sif is leaving. He doesn't at all expect her to turn around again, and, oh, he thinks he follows. It's hard to but he is instantly reassured anyway, that she's been listening, that she's presently here. All he manages aloud is "oh," quietly. He can't verbalise anything else. Putting his other hand over hers at his wrist, he smiles at her.]

[When she returns it, it's faint, like she hasn't yet gotten used to the idea of smiling at - she needs to stop thinking of him in terms of her Loki, when he is not; she's granted Serrure that reprieve, it would cause less headaches to grant him the same - well, faint and tentative. But she lets him touch, and even lifts her other hand to pat the back of his covering hers.

The smile widens a bit. She titls her head.] Try not to start giving names to our would-be children already, will you.

[This surprises a laugh out of Luke. The serious moment isn't broken, so much, but the tension eases.]

Ah. But. I know a Sif. What makes you think I've not started already?

[She makes a choked noise somewhere in her throat, and rolls her eyes.]

Please spare the details. I should like to think all Sifs are not the same.

Oh, they're not, but. I've the names.

And in your head they shall remain.

Yes, I did...I'd thought you'd say that.

You are too...what is the vernacular for this state you are in again?

High. Bruce says it's high.

[And yet you are low on a bed. Welp, language.] You are too high to be making passes.

I don't think so, what really changes?

Your judgement, that I am aware?

I don't know, perhaps, but I always like you, you know. I'm not...I don't become impartial, high. I'm probably more me. It's. Well, my head, obviously, all of it. I like when your eyebrow does that thing, the quirk of it. You.

The quirk - [She's quirking it now, isn't she? She stops, brows furrowed together, then raised high, as if she's trying very very hard not to do the quirking thing.

And failing.]

Oh yes, Sif, look at you, proud and fierce like...like a hunting hawk. I would be your hawk, if you asked.

[A HUNTING HAWK. Well that gets her laughing, an honest laugh from the belly. He is absolutely ridiculous. And high.

Once the laughter dies, though, she pats his hand again.] Alas I must fly now.

[He laughs with her, not at all put out by her laughing at him, and pats her hand patting his.]

I suppose you must, if you must. We ought to spend...I mean, another time, right?

[Another smile, slightly fainter and less honest, as if to say who knows, and just like that, she pulls her hands from his. Just like that, the moment's declared over.]

Get well soon.

I shall, er... Attempt to acquiesce to your command, fair peregrine lady, mm, a falcon, actually, I think, a peregrine does suit best. Especially as you might do your best to eat ravens.

I best leave before you carry on with the list and I become a peacock for whatever reason.

You are nota peafowl. Have you seen peahens? Drab!

[She turns around with a shake of her head and a laugh, though the genuineity of it is left for grabs. This whole conversation has been very disquietting, so she is going to keep her word and leave.

With a wave over her shoulder.] Till the next time, Luke.