emil blonsky -- the incredible hulk -- barways
As the range seems to be something of a Banner doppelganger (ha, ha, rhymes) zone, Emil's inside today. The cut on his lip from his previous venture outside is almost fully healed, but as for the man himself, he looks even more unwell (paler, sicker, leaner).
He's sitting at the bar, hunched over the counter, a shot of vodka untouched in front of him.
In his hands is a faded photo, and it's on this photograph that all of his attention is focused. It's of a woman, lively and beautiful, smiling at the camera. It seems to have been taken some time ago, years perhaps. (It isn't something he usually carries on his person. His fingers are conspicuously ring-less.
They won't find her if there's nothing to lead them to her.)
(He isn't the best husband.)
(He isn't the worst, either.)
Carefully, he runs his thumb across the photo, just along the jawline of the figure.
(Nadia.)
He hasn't seen his wife since he took on the mission.
He's sitting at the bar, hunched over the counter, a shot of vodka untouched in front of him.
In his hands is a faded photo, and it's on this photograph that all of his attention is focused. It's of a woman, lively and beautiful, smiling at the camera. It seems to have been taken some time ago, years perhaps. (It isn't something he usually carries on his person. His fingers are conspicuously ring-less.
They won't find her if there's nothing to lead them to her.)
(He isn't the best husband.)
(He isn't the worst, either.)
Carefully, he runs his thumb across the photo, just along the jawline of the figure.
(Nadia.)
He hasn't seen his wife since he took on the mission.