[They were both in the position of having to hide their injuries, to never show a sign of weakness in case this did come to a fight. Despite a previously dislocated shoulder and the bruising that came with it, he was completely willing to engage if it went that way. He was able to compartmentalize pain unless it was so debilitating that he could no longer move and even then, he generally only moved slowly until his healing factor kicked into overdrive.
Her question stalled his decision on closing the distance. It reminded him that the mission was over, that he had intended to walk away, to learn of all the information that was clearly lacking. He hadn't even been conscious of the decision until he had let go of his hold of the helicarrier and fallen into the Storm that burst from the Potomac which Steve had already dropped into.
He mulled that question over, his jaw working but his eyes keeping a sharp stare on her in case she decide to think his silence was being distracted. The fact was he happened to be very good at killing; he was one of the best. That didn't mean that he was allowed any manner of enjoyment about it; his missions simply were given on orders, and he followed those to its end. But did he want to kill her? That answer was more difficult to ascertain in the confusion of his damaged brain.]
Those are the orders.
[It was logically the only reply that he could offer. He couldn't show any weakness, even if flickers of confusion were obvious on his expression now and again. He still narrowed his eyes when she advanced, and he held his ground rather than follow suit. He would let her come into his range.]
no subject
Her question stalled his decision on closing the distance. It reminded him that the mission was over, that he had intended to walk away, to learn of all the information that was clearly lacking. He hadn't even been conscious of the decision until he had let go of his hold of the helicarrier and fallen into the Storm that burst from the Potomac which Steve had already dropped into.
He mulled that question over, his jaw working but his eyes keeping a sharp stare on her in case she decide to think his silence was being distracted. The fact was he happened to be very good at killing; he was one of the best. That didn't mean that he was allowed any manner of enjoyment about it; his missions simply were given on orders, and he followed those to its end. But did he want to kill her? That answer was more difficult to ascertain in the confusion of his damaged brain.]
Those are the orders.
[It was logically the only reply that he could offer. He couldn't show any weakness, even if flickers of confusion were obvious on his expression now and again. He still narrowed his eyes when she advanced, and he held his ground rather than follow suit. He would let her come into his range.]
What is it you want?