Less sleep deprived, still don't really know where all this is coming from. If you PM me, I'll see if I can take prompts. This is now so totally a thing.

While I didn't see Bruce Banner in person again for a long time, I found myself busy with other things. In fact, he was the farthest thing from my mind as I raced out of my shop, coughing and choking on smoke. After the paramedics told me that I was good to go, I went home, and promptly started looking up jobs again. It was a shame. I was kind of hoping Dr. Banner would come back to talk some more sometime. I found him incredibly interesting. His meekness was so strange next to his alter ego that everyone else remembered. I remembered seeing a flash of him, a big, meaty arm ripping the front of my old shop right off, and a mighty roar. The fire that took out my most recent place of employment wasn't nearly so exciting.

It turned out that my coworker's ex girlfriend was an arsonist.

I only found this out after he broke up with her when she decided to burn out the inside of the coffee shop after I closed it. I don't even know why they broke up. I just knew that I'd have to get another job. With my impressive record of working at places until they got Hulk Smashed, invaded by aliens, rained down on by spare Iron Man Parts, or burnt down by a psychotic ex girlfriend, I figured that I'd be able to get a job just about anywhere in the service industry. A friend of my thought that I would enjoy working in an upscale French restaurant so I decided to give it a try. I don't think the chef expected me to know French. I didn't expect her to actually be French—or a woman. It goes to show that you shouldn't make assumptions about new experiences. It was by coincidence that I met Dr. Banner again, right in front of the coffee shop where we met.

Dr. Banner stood in front of the burnt out shop. I laughed, "You're here!"

"I—erhm—what happened exactly?"

"Oh. My friend broke up with his girlfriend. Turns out she's a bit of a pyro."

"A bit?"

"Well she's getting full on arson and assault charges and stuff, but yeah. So now I'm getting gelato. Wanna come?"

He shrugged and followed a couple paces behind me for some strange reason. I figured that he probably wasn't looking at my ass so I decided it probably had to do with his people skills or his fear of hurting me or someone else while turning into a giant green rage monster (of awesome). In that case, I didn't think four feet would make much of a difference but it seemed to make him comfortable.

"Hey Paolo." I handed the man a few wrinkled bills, "Can I get strawberry and uhm—hey Doc, what do you want?"

"Erhm the same."

"Make that two strawberries." I grinned. Paolo stared back at me blankly for a moment and shrugged, scooping it into little plastic cups for us, "Thanks man."

I gave Bruce his gelato took a dainty bite of mine.

"It's going to be okay, you know." I told him quietly.

He stopped fidgeting for a moment and looked up. A tiny bit of pink was at the corner of his mouth, "Sorry?"

"It's going to be okay." I repeated, "You're a scientist, right?"

"Yeah—"

"So you get equilibrium in the environment, right? Push a little, shove a little, beat something with a big hammer—it doesn't really matter, you see. Things eventually return to their place. They're never the same, but they remain in place. Get it?"

"—I'm sorry, what is it that you do again?"

"I wait tables at a restaurant now."

"I mean, what is it that you do."

"I wait tables at a restaurant and go to school."

"For what?"

"I'm undeclared. I kind of like everything so they're probably going to give me some general studies degree or something. I think I took enough of everything to be anything."

"What are you planning on doing after you're finished then?"

"God, you sound like such a stuffy grown up. That's easy. I'm going to get a job with dental insurance." I giggled, "Or maybe I'll start my own coffee shop. You never know. It could have all of those 'ironic' hipster t-shirts and bumper stickers too."

"Because opening a business is the safest things for someone with a history of working at places that get burned down or blown up."

"You forgot smashed."

"That was on purpose." Bruce grimaced. "It's a bit of a risky plan."

"What's the point of life if you're always going to go with the safest option?" I thought about it before amending my statement, "I mean, even if you know things are going to turn out shitty eventually—which they will—and eventually you will die, why not have a good run while things are good?"

"Interesting."

"And I want a robot invasion. I'll totally let you smash my coffee shop again if I get one of those." I took another bite, "Isn't this like the most amazing thing you've ever eaten?" He snorted in response, "All right, since you've interviewed me, I get to interview you."

"Uhm all right—"

I waited for a while to let the dramatic effect of a 'pregnant pause' take ahold of him. He messed with the empty plastic container the longer he waited, until eventually it broke apart in his hands.

"What—is your favorite color?"

"Red." He answered without thinking.

"Interesting." I tapped my chin, "All right, that's all."

"Seriously?"

"I know everything I need to know about you now." I giggled at his confused expression, "Red has obvious connotations like anger—" He flinched, but I ignored him, "But you would associate anger with green for obvious reasons. Red is also blood, another thing I don't think you'd like very much, which leaves a completely different meaning for you."

"And what is that?"

"Red is warm. It's proud and powerful and comfortable. It's everything you want to have. Yet, it's also dangerous, because with warmth there is a chance of being burned. Red is also the color of love. Feeling love and feeling loved are intense emotions like the color and it can feel both comfortable and scalding at the same time. Red is intense and complex, just like you are."

"That's a theory."

"Freshman English class, man." I grinned. "Okay, now ask me what you really want to ask me."

"So if I'm your second favorite Avenger, who is your first favorite?"

"Oh, that's totally easy. Black Widow, all the way." I noticed his guilty and shifty expression, "What is it?" I asked before he could run or excuse himself.

"We're not on the best of terms."

"Let me guess—big greenie meanie tried to kill her." Based on his face, I was right, "Hmmm, I'm sure it's not the first time, dude." I patted his back,, seeing him flinch "I'm sure she understands you were not in your right mind. She's a total badass anyway. She's my favorite because she's smart and badass. And I totally ship Clintasha. Hawkeye and Black Widow, all the way."

"—What—?" He stuttered and blushed for some strange reason. That was an interesting reaction. I definitely would have to file that away for later use."

"So I have to go. My babushka is coming in from Sokovia today. I'll need to stock up on my booze before I pick her up from the airport." I turned and waved at him as I left, "Oh One last important thing!" I called out as I walked backwards.

"What?"
"My favorite color's green! Interpret that, dude!"