Bruce wanted many things out of life and he knew he wasn't going to get most of them - there would be no white picket fence, no Betty, no 2.4 children and a dog, no Nobel prize, but he looked around at his unlikely group of friends, smiling at Steve as he held the door for Natasha, and Thor let loose a belch that made the windows of the Shawarma Palace rattle, and he thought that maybe he might be able to have something like fami--
Between one step and the next the thought was cut off by vertigo, by nausea, by the universe jolting out of true, sending his feet out from under him in a fall that felt endless until he landed on his back with a hard thud that knocked the breath out of him.
He blinked up at the sky - blue and cloudless and most importantly devoid of the smoke of a day's hard-fought battle - and drew in a whooping breath while he struggled to keep the shawarma where it belonged.
[ooc: Hulking is imminent unless someone has a bright idea for keeping Bruce calm. :D ]
July 8th, late afternoon
Between one step and the next the thought was cut off by vertigo, by nausea, by the universe jolting out of true, sending his feet out from under him in a fall that felt endless until he landed on his back with a hard thud that knocked the breath out of him.
He blinked up at the sky - blue and cloudless and most importantly devoid of the smoke of a day's hard-fought battle - and drew in a whooping breath while he struggled to keep the shawarma where it belonged.
[ooc: Hulking is imminent unless someone has a bright idea for keeping Bruce calm. :D ]