"I've never wanted anyone to die." Bruce worked so hard to keep the Hulk from hurting more people, and to know how much of that killer instinct was truly inside of him, it was alarming. "I know our enemies do, I know sending the Hulk at them could make it happen, and that's just ... how it is." He lived with it because it was to protect people, and he hoped that his teammates could rein in the Hulk enough to do the right kind of damage. "But me? Wanting him dead? That's not who I want to be." Bruce tried so often to push his dark side away, and that of course fed into the monster of his making. There was no right answer.

He couldn't remember how his hair got cut, but he knew where they were, hair was cut off, since that happened to Thor too. He must have been very out of it when it happened, and then the Hulk took over for good. His hair hadn't been that short in many years, it still felt odd. There were only two people in Bruce's life that held him this way, who made him feel this safe, and he was just grateful that Betty hadn't been the only one in his life who could manage it. Otherwise he'd be alone and harrowed until his unknown amount of long years ended.

"What are we going to do now?" Because everything back at home, in the current time, it didn't matter. The Accords, Ross, Thanos, that was somewhere else they couldn't actually deal with yet. Normally that would be a good thing, but it was out of one fire and into another fire, rather than a frying pan existing in the middle. He leaned back on his knees so he could look at Tony's face, but just dropped his hands to Tony's knees, keeping contact. "Where are we?"