He actually stops and rubs his face. Years, before he would have brushed her hand away and kept working. He's a genius, but it took him awhile to actually get smart.
"Tasha..." He squeezes her hand. "You know, it hurts," he admits. "The company, my legs, the nanites -" He gestures to the screen. "Things not working. But -" He turns back to her and moves that same hair through his hair. "It's not you. It's not Anya." He smiles. "It's not even that alien kid that keep taking over the flat screen TV and hits buttons all day...and it's not the Avengers."
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