El!
El has been with the site for nearly two years now and has continued to prove her value. Currently, she is heading up our site event, Battle for Liberterram, on top of keeping up with her own personal plots.
CHARACTER
SPOTLIGHT
Peggy Carter!
Lux's posts are all wonderful to read. She has done a wonderful job of grasping the new universe and incorporating Peggy into it.
CHARACTER
SPOTLIGHT
Peter Parker!
It's good to see Spidey back on the site. Watching him deal with the universe shift in his own snarky way has been nothing short of entertaining.
THREAD
SPOTLIGHT
Eight O'Clock on the Dot!
El and Lux are making magic in this thread. Straight up fireworks, and the way they've played with drawing out the reveal is top class.
Can you tell me Doctor, why I still can't get to sleep
And night time’s just a jungle dark, and a barking M16
It had been only days since Bucky had gotten his phone back. A week since he'd been in this new version of time. He had Steve, which he was thankful for, and Jessica seemed to be from their timeline too. He new very few people, thankfully, and when Natalia's phone kept ringing out, he reached out to Namor. The King had been one of the last people Bucky had seen in their timeline, and he had suggested the help of his own friend in helping Bucky to retrieve his memories. Thankfully, the King's phone number had seemingly been programmed into the phone he had, because Bucky was sure that he was remembering it wrong.
The first time James tried to contact it, the phone had rung out and switched to the message bank, as it did the next three times until James finally left a brief message explaining that things felt weird and that dead people were alive and what exactly did Stephen Strange put in the tea?
Along with that, James also left a message with Namor's secretary at Oracle in case he saw her before he saw his phone. People who lived in the sea, he assumed, didn't carry mobile phones on their person. Namor even less so.
[Message]
"Namor? I didn't really want to leave a message, it doesn't seem right to be talking to a message bank. I need... I've seen Steve, but... something's up. Everything's... weird, and different, and... I'm still about 100% sure I've seen people who should be dead. I'm kind of inclined to think that Stephen put something in the tea. Look... I don't really want to talk to the machine, can you call me back... please."
As a rule, Namor was not overly fond of cellular phones. The mobile devices made it easy to be tracked. Moreover, they were easy to hack and he knew that the Shadow Province did not consider the privacy of others all that important. Namely he kept it for the convenience of the thing and primarily stuck to phonecalls, and brief exchanges at that, preferring interaction to be face-to-face where it could not be so easily intercepted and tracked.
Especially inside of Antarctica. The entire continent was under his dominion.
Eventually, he used his phone and overheard the message from Barnes. James' recording was rather long and pointless. A sort of confused rambling nonsense that he hadn't heard from Barnes in a while. Had the man gotten drunk? None of what he said made much sense to the monarch, who knew that the man also was aware of his rather poor regard for extended conversations over electronic mediums. He should have simply told him where to meet him so they could talk. It didn't sound frivolous enough to chance over the phone.
Selecting the human's number, Namor pressed it into the screen and let the line connect through.
"James, you know how I abhor phone conversations. Particularly about sensitive matters. From what I could glean of your drunken ramble, this is certainly a sensitive matter. Meet me at your apartment at seven your time. Goodbye." The monarch hung up the phone with another click and turned it off so he could toss it over onto the cushions of the couch with an overhanded disregarded. He hadn't been intending to be in New York for some time, and this trip to England had a few more days to it, since there were such extensive matters to discuss. But it seemed the matter was somewhat pressing, and Namor made it known that he had to leave for a few hours, and left his secondmost diplomats to tend to discussions in his stead.
Tasting the ice crystals in the clouds on his flight over, Namor descended a crystalline portrait before the surface of his skin warmed enough to melt the ice. Landing on the fire escape to Barnes' apartment building, he moved up to James' unit and slid open the window and slipped inside. Cold wind billowed past him and he closed the window behind him with routine, thoughtless motion. Drifting over the floor of this part of the apartment, he settled himself into James' armchair in the living room and listened to the soothing rhythms of rainfall.
Time passed and it was seven-sixteen when James' keys jingled on the other side of the door two walls over. Remaining in his seat with one leg neatly folded over the other, Namor's brow rose in a telling display of disappointment.
Can you tell me Doctor, why I still can't get to sleep
And night time’s just a jungle dark, and a barking M16
Had he expected a phone call? Yes, at the very least. Namor ringing to ask him what exactly was wrong and then assuage any fears that Strange had been playing with 70’s CIA LSD and thought that an ex-Soviet assassin was the best person to try it on. Instead, it took a few days for the message to be heard and a response to be issued. James had almost missed the call and didn't manage to get in a word before Namor had hung up.
Drunken ramble? Offensive, for starters.
And now he had to get back to his apartment. He'd let Steve and Jess know he’d be out of the way of the city for a few days but still within a few hours drive. Looking at his phone, he’d be pushing it to get to the apartment by seven and left immediately.
The drive was quiet as James was alone and thinking about what he’d say, or how he’d explain it. Perhaps it was a shared delusion between those closest to him, as it seemed so far. James was already late by the time he got to his building and found parking and took his time walking up the still unfamiliar stairs. His hesitation at the door was less than it was the first time he’d stood there, probably because no-one was beside him to take the keys and open the door for him. Also, it wasn't a great idea to prolong the monarch.
Walking into the hallway, James didn't bother to lock the door behind him and threw the keys onto the cabinet, shaking out his hair of rain before he continued through the home. When he rounded the corner and saw Namor waiting for him in disappointment, James scowled for a moment and then looked past him to the window, each corner of the room, his bedroom door, and then turned for the kitchen. “We could have spoken over the phone. You inconvenienced yourself.” James opened the fridge and pulled out some juice, pulling out two glasses and filling one of them. “Do you want some water?”
He filled it with the jug from the fridge, regardless of the reply, and took both glasses into the living room, sitting the water in Namor’s reach before he sat down himself, cupping the glass of juice between his hands and avoiding the King’s gaze. Finally, he spoke again. “Like I said, they should be dead. But they aren't hallucinations. Steve’s seen them too so I know I'm not crazy.” Just, in another reality, he told himself.
"No." Namor insisted with a low growl that he had attempted to keep at a level and not at all exasperated tone. "We couldn't have. We've spoken on this before, James. My status as monarch and Defender almost certainly assure that the Shadow Province observes any of my calls. Your proximity to Anthony means that you're almost assuredly being monitored as well. This very house would likely be at risk if it weren't for Anthony's preemptive measures." He waved his had through the air in vague motion to the apartment that surrounded him. For the moment he would presume that the alcohol had cost James his memory and higher functions and explain everything in detail. It was better than the alternative.
"Yes, please." He responded in the positive to the offer of water and remained all but perfectly settled in the armchair, a balance of regal and relaxed. "Thank you." Namor responded when the water was surrendered, immediately choosing to nurse from the chilled glass with a satisfied breath. Setting the water aside, he turned to face James as he went into detail about this concern that was great enough to risk being overheard. From what immediately followed, Namor frowned.
James had had these sorts of issues with reality before, but it had been so long ago that it was hard to imagine a resurgence now. Not when psychological healing had been so promising. Top-end therapists and even psychics had tended to James' mind to repair some of the damage that had been done, and time and work had smoothed out the rest. If this was some sort of trauma at the hands of HYDRA, it seemed probable that it was new rather than the old wounds of his past. But why they would pursue him now made little sense, unless they knew of his part with the Defenders. They'd been working especially hard against the Empire lately and he'd even used his economic and sovereign powers to ply pressure after he'd learned of Alexander's existence.
"Who should be dead?" He did not consider whether or not there was any weight to his comments about Steven. He knew that HYDRA had used the former Captain America against James before.
Can you tell me Doctor, why I still can't get to sleep
And night time’s just a jungle dark, and a barking M16
Aggressive insistence that James was wrong and that this personal meeting was very much required. Namor even went into detail about why James was wrong and the American closed his eyes to the weirdness in the statement. The Defenders were defunct as of World War 2, and what was this ‘Shadow Province’ he kept hearing? It was New York, to him. He didn’t say anything more because Namor was right on the last part. His agreeing to be Tony’s security part time had put him in a position to be monitored more thoroughly, which made him less calmer than he was before, however, because now he was wondering if there were bugs in the house. He’d have to check now.
Namor had agreed to the water, and then thanked James when it was presented. The assassin sat, looked over the couch to where Hutch had settled in his bed and then focused on the lamp beside him as he spoke. In the silence between his confession and Namor’s response, James wondered if it was a good idea to have told Namor at all, but of all the people he thought he could trust, Namor was in his top five. His question made James avoided his gaze all the more, and he put more pressure into actively looking at the lamp. “Howard, and Maria. Mostly.” There had been a few other faces he recognized as being alive that shouldn’t be, but they had been less jarring than his old friend and his wife. “If Strange has used some exotic hallucinogen, I’d like to know before I completely lose it.”
“But that’s not the only weird. Things have different names and places aren’t familiar and when the hell did I get an apartment; and a dog. People keep trying to ring me and I don’t know their names or who they are. I’ve tried ringing Fury and Nat but neither of them have answered. I feel like HYDRA or someone is going to jump out and rip it all apart in front of me. But that’s just paranoia because as weird as it is, I can still touch things.” James didn’t know if what he was saying was coherent, and he could now probably understand why Namor assumed he was drunk, but James was incapable of intoxication unless he had the liqour wasn’t human-made.
Namor's fingertips curled neatly over each arm of the chair. He remained sitting slightly back, posture the perfect picture of natural regality all throughout James' response, but the names that he gave caused Namor's fingertips to tighten and flex around the arm. Thankfully his strength was still contained, else the piece of furniture would have shattered into a mess of splinters, bolts and cloth. And though his body language had been relaxed most anywhere one might look, there'd been a momentary lapse of stoicism when the names first came, a look of clear agitation flashing with his eyes. Despite the fleeting or miniscule displays of concern, the monarch's brow rose as he grappled with whether or not this was madness, even if he could not reason a cause.
"I would not lightly accuse my friend, the Sorcerer Supreme, of such actions were I you." He replied calmly even as he wondered if HYDRA intended to use James against his employer's family. "But I'm more curious to know as to why Howard and Maria should be anything but alive." Though he did not want to alarm his friend, he could not avoid confronting his suspicion, particularly if it helped him to keep his mind. Pulling himself to his feet, he bridged the distance between them and looked James in the eye. "What's the furthest back you can remember where and why you were somewhere?" If they'd taken him, there would be breaks in his recollection, that much the Atlantean was certain of.
What came instead was a gush of insanity. The world that he lived in did not sound the same. It was so far different that it wasn't anything HYDRA would dream of employing. It would be too unpredictable, too unsustainable to control him that way. Which left this episode to sound like a complete psychotic break, as though James' mind had simply given like a thin, dry twig. With no significant turmoil or trauma in the days leading up to it and a comparatively clean psychological bill of health for years. And as if that weren't strange or suspicious enough, this strain of madness was one he encountered before, in someone else he loved. Something so recent he was still dealing with it.
"You're as Natalia is, then. Displaced from your own dimension." Pressing his lips into a thin line, he drew a sharp breath and deflated steadily with its exhale. Sitting back into the arm chair, Namor sat down and though his movements were surer than they had been a moment ago, still was not the perfect picture of kingliness. Reaching up, the monarch mopped his fingertips through his thick, black mane and heaved another sigh. "Well, I will tell you as my leading minds told me. You are not under some spell, hypnosis, mind control or living the effects of a drugging. Your psyche has been drawn here through dimensional walls and you're living in a place similar to but different from your own."
Can you tell me Doctor, why I still can't get to sleep
And night time’s just a jungle dark, and a barking M16
James was lost temporarily in the realisation that he had not checked over the apartment for audio and visual bugs. Even if this wasn't a HYDRA test of some kind. Trying to be as inauspicious as possible while Namor took in his response, he looked to the nearest lamp and scrutinised it from his position. With his attentions elsewhere, he missed all of the minor tells that Namor displayed. From the lamp, he looked to the kitchen and then back to the King when he spoke. It was courtesy, after all, to do as much.
“I'd argue it was speculation, not accusation, but if the shoe fits… Stephen was helping me with my memories, and was the last mystical person I was in contact with before all of this happened.” He has purposefully ignored the latter statement in favour of answering about Strange before looking down at his glass. Steve had probably had the best reaction he could hope for at the revelation of just what James had done. He also remembered a time during the War when Namor had stopped him from putting a knife through a German Soldier. His reaction was probably going to be far less favourable. When he looked up to respond, Namor was already crossing the room and he pressed himself back into the couch when he seemed to be scrutinising every part of James’ reactions.
On the bright side, it left him time to not answer the query he’d posed and focus on something else. But the question took him off guard and he scrambled to think of the last solid memory he had which led to the verbal gush of slightly disjointed thoughts without actually answering the question; and just when he had an answer, Namor was talking again. About Nat. James leaned forward, not caring how much of Namor’s personal space he invaded. “You've seen her? Is she okay?” And then the other half of that sentence had James leaning back again with a small frown. His panic from the days before and his anxiety at seeing Namor had dissipated. Namor, too, seemed shaken and explained what Steve and James and Jess had already speculated. “Dimension or reality? Because if Natalia is… as, then it brings the count up to four that I know of.” James put his glass on the side table and counted them off on his fingers. “Me. Jess. Steve, he's been here the longest. And Natalia.”
James paused and looked back up at Namor. “Well, it's a shame. A hallucination would have been easier to deal with.” The joke was ill-placed and unfelt; on James part especially. “But dimensional… Reality… I guess that’s why Howard and Maria are still alive.” He looked down and dropped his hands into his lap, forgetting in the moment he was talking that he had avoided that avenue of conversation. Still, the chances of Namor remaking were high and he jumped in before the King could ask. “I killed them in… Wherever it is that I came from.” Or, more accurately, The Winter Soldier had, on HYDRA’s orders. He was still working on separating himself and The Winter Soldier into two different people.
Namor's eyes narrowed as James continued in the vein of suggestion. Even though he was a closer friend than Stephen was, he did not like the air of the situation, and he still didn't care for what he felt were otherwise baseless insinuations. With luck, drink or drug had prompted this little strange twist of behavior, but the other possibility was still worrying at his mind, slowly picking holes in his grey matter and churning his stomach. Keeping his expression as stoic as possible, he offered his reply. "I'm uncertain what this could be. And unless you've had some sort of secret rendezvous recently, it's been some time since you've seen Stephen." Even though Namor was a common association of theirs, they did not travel in common circles, even among the "superhumans". Their areas of expertise were far different, and Stephen was usually treading dimensions or solving problems in parts of the world that yet believed in magic enough to contact him.
James' focus on Natalia was peculiar, but the Atlantean nodded his head all the same. "I'm not certain how 'okay' one might be able to be when the entire world around them has changed in most every regard, but yes. She in managing. As it seems you are." A true testimony to their mental fortitude. He could not imagine what they were experiencing. The idea of awakening in a world where he might not be King of Atlantis or husband to Natalia was simply impossible. He did not know that he would function so well. If he did, it would likely be the thought of home that would keep him sustained. A bittersweet motivation that would undoubtedly decay if it became clear that home was far off and that his child might begin to grow up without him.
"Either or, the terms are effectively interchangable. My understanding of quantum physics is that parallel dimensions or realities are all layered over one another, narrowly but distinctly separate form one another. Variations between near universes are supposed to be slight, while more distant universes are supposed to be massively different in their formation." The Atlantean explained the first portion of Barnes' response before he focused on the rest. "Jess?" The name meant nothing to him, but he did not linger on it overlong. "I'd thought the event was contained to Natalia and my experts did not suggest anything to the contrary. If you and the others are as she is, then it would suggest that something in your own dimension caused you to be expelled from it and end up here. So far it seems focused on a group of individuals that come in frequent contact with each other, which may be crucial in determining the reason why you're all here and how to return you."
The joke that James made did not quite strike Namor's funny bone. In any other situation he might've found the self-deprecating and dark humored remark to be amusing, but all he could do was let his mouth twist into a disparaging frown. His expression grew momentarily sharper as the man once again referenced that his godson and his wife were alive, as though they should be the contrary. Blunting that reaction, though, he waited for the explanation, and what came destroyed his brief lived stoicism. In the first moments, Namor's eyes flashed and he stepped back as if he needed to regard James in full to truly appreciate the other man's actions.
"Why?" Namor's response was harsh, his expression and tone both expectant. If James' answer did not satisfy and he suggested that he posed a threat to Howard...
Can you tell me Doctor, why I still can't get to sleep
And night time’s just a jungle dark, and a barking M16
That sign James did get, and after holding the King’s gaze for a moment, looked away. If it was Stephen, it could be fixed, maybe. But there seemed to be several people involved in this, and it didn’t look like it would be such an easy fix. Even a few weeks in this place had let him gather that much on his own. “Some… no, it’s been... including this, only about a month and a half.” Even before that, James had only seen Stephen a handful of times. This seemed within the realm of things he dealt with.
On the bright side, Nat was as okay as it could be. Which also meant that Namor had spoken to her. Weird, that she was ignoring his calls, then. But, as far as he was aware, she hadn’t been in contact with Steve either. “She always has been able to adapt to her surroundings.” He mentioned mostly to himself, satisfied to hear that she was okay. He would have to find a way to get in contact with her himself to find out from her how she was coping. Especially if she was from the same reality as the rest of them. It seemed like the terms were starting to become interchangable, definitely. There were very few differences between them anyway but the main thing was that whatever it was, it wasn’t home.
One thing that hadn’t changed, was how much smarter Namor was than him. It was comforting, actually, and he listened with interest at his attempt at an explanation. Given his description, this universe had to be several “layers” away from their own. It probably wouldn’t be easy to get back there, even if they could. “Well, I know for sure Steve and I are from the same place. We were camping before all this happened. I haven’t known Jess very long, but…” He shrugged, unsure where to go from there. What if there were more? How many more? Would they have to be contained? How frequent was frequent? He’d have to ring Tony and find out about him too. “Did they say what could have caused it?” Because that would be the first thing they all needed to figure out.
James had expected that question exactly and let his head drop a little further to his chest. Maybe it was the tone, one used so frequently in the company of people who regarded him as an object and a weapon than by people who genuinely cared for his well-being. A tone he’d heard many times in the last six months going through his head every time he tried to sleep. “I don’t know. I only told Steve about it the other day. I only remembered a few weeks ago.” He was less curious to ask now since Howard was alive, and asking would mean looking at him again. He needed time to get used to it. “I know I knew him during the war, and we should be friends, but I can’t risk seeing him again.” James paused, coming to the solid conclusion that with Namor’s input, this definitely wasn’t something that Stephen Strange had had a hand in. “Not until I know it’s safe.”
"If it's been that long I question how any recent developments could be his fault," Namor observed, voice soft but stern, like a father warning a child not to disobey. Even knowing that James was obviously confused about the state of things, he couldn't tolerate the suspicion of a fine and loyal friend. Particularly one that obviously was not to blame for James' current predicament. Something that became more obvious as the conversation went on and it became apparent that James was suffering from the same displacement phenomenon as an increasingly large number of his closer associates seemed to be.
"She has. Though..." he trailed for a moment, then shook his head, dismissing the thought. That Natalia was melancholy was not worth mentioning. It would require a full explanation of their history, something that he did not have the time or the desire to do. But he noticed it. She was not simply homesick, there was more to the situation than that. He had yet to bring himself to ask, though. She was not his, though she was similar and he was not hers. They did not know each other in the same way and he did not want to exacerbate her yearning for home by asking her about the differences. He would extend James and whoever else suffered the condition the same courtesy.
"Interesting," Namor replied in thought, savoring it for a moment before he continued. "I wonder if you two and Natalia are from the same universe. It would certainly make sense if all of you originated from the same dimension." Though he supposed that his universe could be to blame. He didn't know of any recent activities significant enough to explain why denizens of this universe would be expelled and residents of other universes but of the same genetic code would be pulled across realities. But it was a possibility, even if it was more likely that it originated in theirs. "No. This is, to my experts' knowledge, an unprecedented event. I'm yet waiting for response from Strange. Given his experience with other dimensions I suspect he'll be able to find the source of all of this chaos."
All of this was well beyond Namor's familiarity. Even though he'd been trying to broaden his understanding of the Multiverse theory of Quantum Physics in the last week or so, he was still woefully ignorant. And even knowing more would not necessarily give them a bridge to home. That was what he would require Strange's help for. If not, there were other alternatives to consider. All that had his head dipped down slightly in thought until the subject of Howard and Maria was touched upon.
The lack of a definitive answer was not comforting. "Why don't you know?" Namor asked, wondering if this James had a similar history with HYDRA. Either way, his suspicions were not quelled. "Good." The Atlantean grunted in response to the man's assertion that he wouldn't be seeing Howard for some time. "I'll extend the man a phonecall and let him know that you're in no state to see him for the time being. I think keeping you away from the Starks is the best bet."
Can you tell me Doctor, why I still can't get to sleep
And night time’s just a jungle dark, and a barking M16
“I didn’t know. I was just covering all of the bases.” Speaking of realities and dimensions, it had seemed the most likely to yield a result, but Namor was confident that Stephen had nothing to do with the mix up; and he knew Stephen far better than James did. Maybe there had been some stagnant effect and… no, he was mixing up his own thoughts now and shook his head, frowning slightly to clear away the thoughts. This wasn’t some sorcerer supreme screw up, this was as they had assumed from the go. Several people swapping realities. Dimensions. James sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, frustrated by it all.
Namor trailed off in his explanation and James turned his frustrated frown to the monarch. What was he not saying? In time to see him rethink the addendum and cross it from both of their minds. Whatever it was, it wasn’t important enough for Namor to mention now, so maybe she was taking a break from the craziness, like he had. That made sense.
“So far it seems that way, at least. What would the chances be of any other realities also getting involved in this mess.” It was rhetorical, and not put across as even part of a question. James did not want it answered. Namor had more channels to look across for what was going on, and James was interested. “I know it’s probably a lot to ask, but could you keep me in that loop?” For so long he had been used to following orders and knowing the bare minimum. He had only just been starting to get his life back in order where they had all come from. If things were different here, he wanted Namor to know that he wasn’t going to sit idly by and let other people know everything around him. Information was key.
“HYDRA conditioning. Torture. I kind of know, but I don’t. I know parts.” He was still getting his memory back, and he assumed that in time, he would have known all of it. Was that why he was here? To find out? It didn’t really make sense though, given that other people were there that had no history with Howard. At the approval, James looked up, the frown had remained in place, but something made it grow darker as the monarch continued. For a second, his blood flushed hot through his chest and he looked down at his hands before looking up. “That’s not your decision.” He argue hotly. “That’s mine.” James didn’t know why the issue meant so much to him except that it was his decision. Maybe it had been the way Namor had phrased it. For the most part, at least they were looking at the situation the same way.
It then occurred to James that Namor might suggest that he ring Howard then. “But… if you could ring him… thank you.” The heat had cooled in his voice and the crease between his brows had softened.
"I rightly don't know. This is unparalleled territory for me. But just as soon as there could be something expelling you from your dimension there could be something pulling others to ours." It was an increasingly unlikely alternative, though. If three of them seemed to be from the same reality it was probable to assume the pattern held true and any other dimensional invaders were from the same point of origin. He wouldn't rule out the other possibility until he had a wider sample and more information to go off of (and the advice of his experts), but he was relatively confident in the belief. "Of course. Now that I know you're in a similar situation I will naturally keep you informed."
A stance that he would continue to take, even after he became less certain of James' mental faculties.
Hearing it reiterated, Namor breathed a tense sigh. If James was still suffering those effects, he likely still had a meshwork of programming in his subconscious. Layers and layers of oppression and conditioning in conflict with his own nature. In this state, James was not altogether trustworthy or reliable. And though he could not be faulted for his actions, Namor would not tempt fate by trotting out a target for him. One that his programming knew to be dead and had been ordered to kill. Not someone that was as close to him as Howard and Maria were.
Namor's eyes flashed when James told him that it was not his decision. "So, you're suggesting you would not intervene if you knew a friend of yours might pose threat to Rogers?" His brows creased in the middle, his lips curving up into the slightest sneer. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. Howard has the right to know that he may be in danger. What he does in response to the situation is his choice." It was Howard who would have to make the decision. If he chose to continue to endanger himself by having contact with an unstable man who'd killed him once before, that was his right. Namor would abide by it even if he knew that Edward would be rolling in his grave at his son's stupidity.
The acid to James' bite had drained when he spoke again. Though Namor's own temper was not so quick to cool he'd perfected reining it in and tried to give it a shorter leash in the proceeding moments. Heaving a heavier, but silent sigh, Namor's body sagged a bit and lost half of its tension in the process. "All right." He moved to phone Howard.
Can you tell me Doctor, why I still can't get to sleep
And night time’s just a jungle dark, and a barking M16
At least James wasn’t the only one frustrated to death by it all. Perhaps he was seeing it worse because of his already broken psyche and recent history, but it was nice to know that this was weird and other people were suffering too. Not that he was a masochist or anything. His fingers settled on the tip of his nose and his gaze lifted to meet Namor’s. “That’s probably the most succinct way of putting it I’ve heard so far.” And likely to be at all. “I’ve upgraded the description from fucked, to that.” The joke was well placed, but unfelt and he sighed, dropping his hand into his lap and sinking into the cushion.
This was his house, and he wanted more than anything to just curl in on himself and start crying again, but Namor was still present, and he would hold himself together until he’d left. “Thank you.” He all but whispered at the King’s assurance that he would be kept informed. The weight of his stress now hung on every word like an anvil. The situation was wearing on Namor, too, in the way that he sighed. It wasn’t like James could help his future, although he looked away again, ashamed of that past anyway.
He had looked up again in time with his outburst of aggression to see and match Namor’s. “That’s not… I didn’t mean…” Of course he would intervene if someone threatened Steve, they weren’t just best friends, but brothers. Family. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Namor would help Howard either, but that the decision to stay away from him had come directly from James, for the benefit of everyone. Not just another order that he had to follow until he was “better”. “I get that, I’m just saying that when you tell him, tell him that it was my decision to stay away for his safety. I don’t want him to think that he can solve it by proximity and try and find me… not until I’m ready to deal with that.” That was the more diplomatic answer that he had been looking for and rolled out slowly so that it was articulated correctly.
He saw the tension in Namor’s shoulders drop with a sigh and he looked away at the sight of a phone. How long would it take for him to be comfortable with this new world, these new people, experiences, places, emotions? Would he? By God he hoped so. It was already so tiring. He barely moved a muscle through the conversation, trying to take stock when he could only hear one side of the talking.