"Mr. Banner, are you feeling alright?" Lucie asked from her armchair. "You seem a little… blah."

"Do I?" he asked. "I'm sorry," he said, nonchalantly.

She hesitated, looking from the edge of her folder to his figure, sprawled over the couch. "So… Wanna talk about it?"

He smiled, his arm draped over his face so she couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. "I just have a headache, Lucie."

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. "Is it Tony? Has he been bothering you?" she asked.

"No more than usual." He paused. "Actually he's been kind of weirdly nice."

"How odd," she said, scribbling 'Tony nice now- weird?' on the paper. "Is that what's given you the headache?"

She saw his face twitch; the fact that she couldn't see his eyes bothered her. Usually they told her everything but now she wasn't sure if he was having a weird muscle spasm or rolling his eyes or thinking or what.

"No, it's not Tony."

She took a breath and looked at the ceiling. "So you don't want to talk about it."

"Not really," he said shortly.

"Fine. But we haven't had a session in weeks so I'm determined to make some progress with you," she said, looking back to her paper and fumbling with the corner.

"So what do you want to talk about, Lucie?" he asked.

"I'm the therapist, I'm asking you," she said, starting to get irritated.

"I don't want to talk."

"But we're going to. What is with you today?"

She heard him sigh loudly as he removed his arm from his face, throwing it in the air as if he gave up. "You want to know what gave me this headache, Lucie?" he asked, exasperated.

"I…guess…" she said, tensing.

He sat up, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back into the corner of the couch. "I stayed up all night thinking about how this meeting would come out."

"What do you mean?" she asked, eyeing him; he refused to look at her.

"You're just so…confusing," he said, frowning intensely at the wall. "I'm never sure if we're going to be on good terms or if you're pms-ing."

"Excuse me?" she said, frowning at him in disbelief.

"I just, I don't know Lucie."

"So what I'm hearing is we can't see each other unless it's during these sessions, right?" she demanded, her voice rising slightly.

"I guess," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't really see how that's going to be possible though, with you coming to the Tower for Tony all the time and everything."

"Gee, thanks Bruce. As if I come here everyday."

"You know what I mean,' he said, his voice shrinking very slightly as he quickly glanced at her and then back to the wall.

"No, really. Because I'm just another one of his skanks that climb into bed with him every other night and leave before the sun rises. Because I'm not his therapist and because I enjoy being dismissed by him whenever it looks like I'm finally going to get somewhere with him."

"You're not any of that though-"

"No, I know Bruce. But thanks. I'll just make him come see me," she said, shuffling her papers back into the folder and s picking up her bag.

"Is our session over already?" he asked. "You only just got here."

She looked at her watch. "Fuck," she muttered. "You're right. We have forty more minutes. Fine. How are you feeling?" she asked, slumping back into the armchair, clicking her pen violently and reopening her folder.