[He tries. Really, he does. Maybe he's screwed up under all those scars, but when it comes down to it, he's minimizing their losses— making the smarter call even if it is heartless— Cathaway, Prince, they'd agree with him. They'd do the same thing if they were in his shoes.
You don't save one guy if it costs you more. You don't save Steve Rogers, boy wonder, when you've got a siren and a sole survivor on the other end of the line.]
Oh you bitch. [The hand at her throat, edged between her own where she's curled her hands around his face to watch him choke on a stolen rush (and oh, he is, sweat running down his brow, shaking through his shoulders and his fingers are hot enough that they feel like they could scorch) bears down hard enough to bruise. He doesn't imagine she's ever been called out for what she is like this, but right now, all bets are off.
He isn't dying here.
...not even if she's curled around him like that, all vicious want and a hunger so tangible he—]
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You don't save one guy if it costs you more. You don't save Steve Rogers, boy wonder, when you've got a siren and a sole survivor on the other end of the line.]
Oh you bitch. [The hand at her throat, edged between her own where she's curled her hands around his face to watch him choke on a stolen rush (and oh, he is, sweat running down his brow, shaking through his shoulders and his fingers are hot enough that they feel like they could scorch) bears down hard enough to bruise. He doesn't imagine she's ever been called out for what she is like this, but right now, all bets are off.
He isn't dying here.
...not even if she's curled around him like that, all vicious want and a hunger so tangible he—]
Don't act like you know what I want.