[That's all the answer Bruce really wanted, and he's raising his own tea unhurriedly to drink when Jack keeps talking, and his hand stills halfway there.
There's a flicker of something painful across his face before he can stop it. Family. The word is something of a landmine for Bruce, and although they're not talking about his family-- he never talks about his family-- there's an implication here that he has someone in it again, in some vague, unspecified, not blood related way.
He spares a bitter thought that Jack doesn't know how grateful he should be that they aren't actually family. Anyone with his genes is doomed.
Tony and Pepper make sense. Bruce can see why someone would get attached to them-- he'd gotten attached himself, after all, and for good reason. They were both generous without being invasive, not perfect, but dedicated to the right thing. All qualities Bruce admired. He had a hard time finding anything about himself that would match that.
But Jack didn't know, did he? What kind of person he was attaching himself to like this. Bruce just hadn't gotten around to telling him, not when he instinctively kept every scrap of information about the Hulk to himself by long habit. And maybe now wasn't the time to go into that explanation, which was convoluted, and bad timing with Tony just arrived again. Aside from which, he's uncomfortably reminded of Betty, and how insulting it would be to refuse her faith in him. Hers he's forced to accept because she knows everything he's willing to give breath to about him, and still decides to, but moreover, it seems cruel to refuse someone something like this.
He puts his tea down instead of drinking it, raising his hand to rub at his face, trying to muster together a response.] I, uh, I'm not really a... good choice, [to put it mildly,] but--
Thanks. [Lowering his hand, glancing over. He's unable to smile, but there's something soft about his expression. He searches for something to say that won't seem like he's rejecting him.] It'll work out, [he says honestly.] You're not going to lose us.
[That's not really a promise he can make, he knows, with the state of things. People disappearing, reappearing, with and without memories; that they're all clones; that they could die and might not come back, with the war gearing up. Bruce makes it anyway. If he couldn't believe in the idea that someone was there for you without their physical presence, he wouldn't have gotten through the past nine years with his sanity.]
Re: action;
There's a flicker of something painful across his face before he can stop it. Family. The word is something of a landmine for Bruce, and although they're not talking about his family-- he never talks about his family-- there's an implication here that he has someone in it again, in some vague, unspecified, not blood related way.
He spares a bitter thought that Jack doesn't know how grateful he should be that they aren't actually family. Anyone with his genes is doomed.
Tony and Pepper make sense. Bruce can see why someone would get attached to them-- he'd gotten attached himself, after all, and for good reason. They were both generous without being invasive, not perfect, but dedicated to the right thing. All qualities Bruce admired. He had a hard time finding anything about himself that would match that.
But Jack didn't know, did he? What kind of person he was attaching himself to like this. Bruce just hadn't gotten around to telling him, not when he instinctively kept every scrap of information about the Hulk to himself by long habit. And maybe now wasn't the time to go into that explanation, which was convoluted, and bad timing with Tony just arrived again. Aside from which, he's uncomfortably reminded of Betty, and how insulting it would be to refuse her faith in him. Hers he's forced to accept because she knows everything he's willing to give breath to about him, and still decides to, but moreover, it seems cruel to refuse someone something like this.
He puts his tea down instead of drinking it, raising his hand to rub at his face, trying to muster together a response.] I, uh, I'm not really a... good choice, [to put it mildly,] but--
Thanks. [Lowering his hand, glancing over. He's unable to smile, but there's something soft about his expression. He searches for something to say that won't seem like he's rejecting him.] It'll work out, [he says honestly.] You're not going to lose us.
[That's not really a promise he can make, he knows, with the state of things. People disappearing, reappearing, with and without memories; that they're all clones; that they could die and might not come back, with the war gearing up. Bruce makes it anyway. If he couldn't believe in the idea that someone was there for you without their physical presence, he wouldn't have gotten through the past nine years with his sanity.]