[ either the joke comes too soon or the truth he withholds is too great, knocking them out of sync. how long? something else is wrong; he can feel it. can't even blame his shadow for this one, when the other hasn't flickered throughout their short conversation. it's them. her stomach drops, and his flips, their feedback loop spiralling. he cuts it off, then, letting her stay turned into him (hand fisted in his nice button-down, and he couldn't care less) but slotting an arm around her covered shoulders to guide them.

(see, he has to be control of his emotions, if he's to let them loose, lest something dangerous slip through his firewall).

he looks over his shoulder, too, to see if anyone noticed their strange reunion or the faint glow from their chests. easy enough to case the area and confirm that humans remain too self-focused to notice a strange couple. onward, after that, 'cause he knows the backstreets: a way slightly quieter in the city, built like the close of british town, taking them up toward a skypark.

their walk affords him the luxury of proximity without having to look her in the eye. ]

Sorry, just — can't have people overhearing us. [ he gets sloppy with the people he loves. weak. no, no, that's not true, don't say that — he clears his throat, jaw set. ] Almost four months here. [ a beat. ] Six months at a HYDRA black site. [ quickly, ] Hunter got me out. [ that's fond, at least. ]

[ he exhales. ]

Jemma, I haven't seen you since the diner.

[ when she and the rest of the team were taken by another monolith, leaving him well and truly alone. ]