It was a lose-lose situation, a situation that Bruce might as well have been the poster child for. When he quietly moved into the kitchen, he knew there were options left in there he could test out, leftovers that probably no one would mind if he tasted, but he was always very respectful of other people's things in the lab and at the tower. So instead he hovered around the stove and considered what few dishes he knew how to make. The list wasn't that short after years on the run and finding food to toss together at a moment's notice, but it was very basic.
This was that moment he would come to regret, when he hesitated after making something very, very bland, and thought well what could this hurt, really? before putting in what he assumed was a local spice. He'd lived in many countries with impressive spice ratios, but either this was a new level, or he'd lost all ability to ingest flavor after years of his body not being his.
Either way, the end result was a coughing fit and nearly dropping the bowl, and he scrambled to try and catch the bowl at the same time, but only managed to smack it in the air and send it flying farther away. The crash caused him to wince, and he hurried toward it, wheezing at the same time, desperate to just clean it up and pretend this never happened. "Good one," he whisper-coughed, "Banner."
Between hurrying to pick up the food and not getting his breathing under control, he was leaning low to the ground when he coughed hard and bumped his head against the counter, instantly on the floor. Bruce just sat for a moment, wondering not for the first time how a man with seven PhDs could be clumsy enough to guest star in a Stooges comedy act. It's fine. He was going to hide there for now. Who needed dignity?
TEXT: UN: Dr. Banner
Let's say you haven't had a drink in years. What would be your suggestion? Note: something we have in stock.
Bruce Banner | MCU (Infinity War)
It was a lose-lose situation, a situation that Bruce might as well have been the poster child for. When he quietly moved into the kitchen, he knew there were options left in there he could test out, leftovers that probably no one would mind if he tasted, but he was always very respectful of other people's things in the lab and at the tower. So instead he hovered around the stove and considered what few dishes he knew how to make. The list wasn't that short after years on the run and finding food to toss together at a moment's notice, but it was very basic.
This was that moment he would come to regret, when he hesitated after making something very, very bland, and thought well what could this hurt, really? before putting in what he assumed was a local spice. He'd lived in many countries with impressive spice ratios, but either this was a new level, or he'd lost all ability to ingest flavor after years of his body not being his.
Either way, the end result was a coughing fit and nearly dropping the bowl, and he scrambled to try and catch the bowl at the same time, but only managed to smack it in the air and send it flying farther away. The crash caused him to wince, and he hurried toward it, wheezing at the same time, desperate to just clean it up and pretend this never happened. "Good one," he whisper-coughed, "Banner."
Between hurrying to pick up the food and not getting his breathing under control, he was leaning low to the ground when he coughed hard and bumped his head against the counter, instantly on the floor. Bruce just sat for a moment, wondering not for the first time how a man with seven PhDs could be clumsy enough to guest star in a Stooges comedy act. It's fine. He was going to hide there for now. Who needed dignity?
TEXT: UN: Dr. Banner
Let's say you haven't had a drink in years. What would be your suggestion? Note: something we have in stock.