[She laughs a little at the question, a faint nod and a murmur of agreement into his side.] Sort of. If some sort of creature got in, and I tried to deal with it without something to focus it through, odds are that I'd probably end up shocking you. It's easier for me to control with something to focus it through instead of just-- letting go, I guess. And wouldn't want to mess up your hair.
[As if that was the largest of her concerns, and not injury, burning him, painful muscle spasms, any number of things. But she keeps it light, curls up into his side. Arguably for warmth, but she did like the contact, of someone whose company she enjoyed, and the way the contact made her feel a little bit less alone. He chuckles when she mentions biting and she smiles in the dark, but then something shifts, words that seem to slip in past the blanket with the traces of the cold. A slight touch of light, illuminating the shadows, a scene taking shape as the voice becomes more and more real.
Ava shifts, but doesn't pull away from him entirely, even as she watches. It's not that the scene before her isn't terrible, dead children, a woman bleeding out for her husband's betrayal. It's that she understands it, understands what it is to be in a place like that. It's a memory, she realizes, about the time that she breathed it in, could almost taste the blood on the air as the woman bled out, and it feels like memory, which is something she understands better than most. The things she noticed, however, were how pale Rumlow looked as he stepped back from the shivering woman. She noticed how young they were- both Rumlow and Rollins.
The man with words on his tongue about traitors is the one in control here, she can tell, reading the dynamic, the way his lessons are said like commands, and his instructions are rules. This is not just about punishing a traitor, it is also a lesson. Teaching them early what would happen to them. She'd always understood that SHIELD was not a good place, that they were more like the Red Room than they liked to pretend, but she hadn't realized how deep that similarity went. For the moment, she still doesn't know to put the word HYDRA to what she's seeing.
And yet there's a dissonance there, because she had been training recruits, and she would have known if something like this was happening. Maybe it was something with STRIKE, but even if she can't identify it just yet, she knows that there's more to this than just the ugly underside of SHIELD.] How old were you?
[It's not the important question, not the one that most people would focus on; it's not the why or the how could you. But watching she can't help but notice how Rumlow looks so young and almost out of his depth. He's probably older than she is, but he feels younger. She almost wants to reach out and tell him he will get through this, even as the death on the air is enough to choke on.]
no subject
[As if that was the largest of her concerns, and not injury, burning him, painful muscle spasms, any number of things. But she keeps it light, curls up into his side. Arguably for warmth, but she did like the contact, of someone whose company she enjoyed, and the way the contact made her feel a little bit less alone. He chuckles when she mentions biting and she smiles in the dark, but then something shifts, words that seem to slip in past the blanket with the traces of the cold. A slight touch of light, illuminating the shadows, a scene taking shape as the voice becomes more and more real.
Ava shifts, but doesn't pull away from him entirely, even as she watches. It's not that the scene before her isn't terrible, dead children, a woman bleeding out for her husband's betrayal. It's that she understands it, understands what it is to be in a place like that. It's a memory, she realizes, about the time that she breathed it in, could almost taste the blood on the air as the woman bled out, and it feels like memory, which is something she understands better than most. The things she noticed, however, were how pale Rumlow looked as he stepped back from the shivering woman. She noticed how young they were- both Rumlow and Rollins.
The man with words on his tongue about traitors is the one in control here, she can tell, reading the dynamic, the way his lessons are said like commands, and his instructions are rules. This is not just about punishing a traitor, it is also a lesson. Teaching them early what would happen to them. She'd always understood that SHIELD was not a good place, that they were more like the Red Room than they liked to pretend, but she hadn't realized how deep that similarity went. For the moment, she still doesn't know to put the word HYDRA to what she's seeing.
And yet there's a dissonance there, because she had been training recruits, and she would have known if something like this was happening. Maybe it was something with STRIKE, but even if she can't identify it just yet, she knows that there's more to this than just the ugly underside of SHIELD.] How old were you?
[It's not the important question, not the one that most people would focus on; it's not the why or the how could you. But watching she can't help but notice how Rumlow looks so young and almost out of his depth. He's probably older than she is, but he feels younger. She almost wants to reach out and tell him he will get through this, even as the death on the air is enough to choke on.]