he’s the last person the witch had wanted to be around. in the past, wanda had avoided him like the plague. his words still rang in her head every time she saw him, almost like a promise that he could wrap his hands tight around her throat at the wrong moment. or the right one, depending on ones point of view. but these days allies are in short supply and she finds herself wanting his company. perhaps in part to make amends, but also for just a little peace of mind. if there’s one thing they now have in common, it’s a few enemies. and a particular distrust of the government. so it’s only now, in the ‘safety’ of wakanda, that wanda hopes to find him alone. and only when she does, does she grab his attention solely for herself.
❝ doctor banner… can we talk? ❞ there’s a hint of vocal fry, one look at wanda’s face revealing her exhaustion. she hasn’t properly slept in days. but she’s not here for her myriad of health issues, save for one. it feels almost as if she’s intruding, his solitude seeming like a sacred thing. even just from looking at him, finding it almost difficult to focus solely on bruce. almost as if she’s not worthy of being in his presence.
bristling INDIGNATION ; ; ; it claws && takes umbrage, demands to be recognized. inducing him—- the saccharine tang of vengeance, toxins invading… their sole objective, to contaminate, plant roots at his core. taunting, taunting, it drives him—- to falter beneath the restraint—- to make him GIVE IN.
( in high dudgeon ) cheeks expand—- breathing stalled—- grip tightens as pen halts on paper, per her REQUEST. lips form a rigid line… he must quell the temptation now;;; cannot vent his spleen to someone who may be extending an olive branch. ( it is not in his nature to deny another person a civil exchange, nor is it to begin said discussion from a place of resentment. ) still: there is a part of him that isn’t sorry ( and a part of him that IS ) and bruce cannot determine which is more taxing.
HER!!! his organs bellow, beating against the frailness of ribcage, his body beckons, implores him to spiral into the blackness. SHE IS TO BLAME. VENGEANCE, VENGEANCE. the lull, it calls to him. piercing, in the name of johannesburg;;; collateral damage, blood that did not ask to be shed. the massacre, the devastation. && it was not the other guy at fault, on this sparse occasion—- ‘twas HER.
but wanda maximoff is no stranger to the accusatory headlines, evidence of the obliteration ringing clear—- blaring, clamoring over every media outlet known to the planet. the guilt alone can be fatal, && that pain, that personal torment resides in wanda, too. the curse, the deaths of countless, all because of one temporary lapse in control. MURDERER, they call her ( && it resounds on endless loop. ) FREAK.
judging by her current appearance, perhaps she has paid PENANCE enough, in that sense. so he will keep his cool, will maintain decency, on behalf of whatever dwindling humanity continues to inhabit him.
❛ uh, sure, wanda… what’s up ?? ❜