A/N: This one-shot is about Locke Banner, Bruce's adopted son. Dialogue is written in Bengal and translated in italics. The translation may not be completely accurate, but I did my best!

Bruce Banner, what do you think you're doing?

Bruce stood in the entryway to the small, rundown orphanage. The area was due for a nice cleaning, but he knew that the required cleaning would never come. He'd spent enough time here to know that sanitation wasn't very advanced, thus why sickness was so high. Bruce nervously pushed the sleeves of his shirt up as a lady gestured for him to follow her into a hall of doorways that lead to cramped bedrooms full of abandoned kids.

"Boy?" the woman asked, accent heavy. Banner nodded and his escort stopped and pointed towards a room on their left. The man peeked in to see a small boy sitting on a bed with a beat up toy truck. He was pushing it over the covers like they were mountains and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Ārē āchē (hello there)," Bruce said quietly, trying not to startle the boy with his greeting. The small boy's head raised and he stared at the larger male with wide, innocent eyes.

"Hyālō...(Hello…)" the boy responded a bit nervously. He lifted his truck so that it sat in his lap. "Āpani yārā (You are) ?"

"Āmāra nāma brusa. Āpanāra nāma ki? (My name is Bruce. What is yours? )"Bruce crouched next to the bed as he said his name, getting down to the boy's level as to seem less intimidating.

"Locke…" the boy said. He seemed to unfold and bit, but his eyes dropped down from Bruce's eyes to look at his toy.

"Āpanāra baẏasa kata, Locke? (How old are you, Locke)" Even though age wasn't an important factor to Bruce, he still wanted to know the basics about little Locke before he agreed to anything.

"Cāra bachara (four years)," Locke replied. He seemed a bit ashamed and Banner thought that it could be because he was older than what some of the adults were looking for. The man smiled then looked at the little truck in Locke's hands.

"Sūkṣma ṭrāka (Nice truck)." Locke's eyes lit up at the comment and he picked up the toy and held it as if it were as valuable as diamonds.

"Ēṭā ki nā! Āmi khuba ēṭā bhālabāsā! (Is it! I love it!)" The boy admired his truck for a moment, leaving the two in silence. Finally, Locke looked between Bruce and his truck a few times and then held it out.

"Āpani ēṭā sāthē khēlatē cāna? (Would you like to play with it?)" Bruce could tell that this offer was significant. With a toy as precious as this to Locke, allowing another to hold it was a very big deal. Bruce nodded and accepted the truck and proceeded to run the little wheels over the sheets of the bed a few times.

"Āmi ēkaṭi ṭrāka āchē khuba (I have a truck)," Banner said absently as he ran the toy over Locke's leg, making him giggle. Locke looked at Bruce with big eyes.

"Satyi'i? Ēkaṭi satyikārēra ēka? (Really? A real one?)" His voice was filled with wonder at the prospect of Bruce having a real life truck—one that wasn't beaten up and plastic with wobbly metal wheels. The man nodded and smiled.

"Hyām̐ , bāstaba! (Yes, a real one!)" Bruce said with a laugh. He lifted the plastic truck from the sheets and handed it back to Locke. "Āmarā ēṭā yadi āpani cāna aśbacālanā karā hatē pārē (We could go for a ride if you would like)." Locke's eyes somehow managed to grow wider and he cupped his hands around his face in excitement.

"Satyi'i? Kakhana? (Really? When?)" Bruce stood and ruffled the small boy's black hair and smiled kindly down at him.

"Parabartī samaẏa, āmi pratijñā Karachi (Next time, I promise)." Bruce turned and paused a moment. "Yadi āpani āmākē ābāra āpanākē dēkhatē anumati dē'ōẏā, yā (That is, if you would like me to come again)…" Bruce felt Locke grab his hand and the man looked over his shoulder to see the boy's big brown eyes looking up at him, full of happiness.

"Abaśya'i, janāba brusa (Of course, Mr. Bruce)," Locke replied. The two smiled at each other and departed, Bruce following the woman who had escorted him back out into the main room. The man thanked her warmly before exiting the building, still smiling.

Bruce Banner, you are crazy…But maybe that's a good thing.