marvel comics · the sentry · molecular manipulation · recovering addict · melancholic · dry humor · empathetic · therapy · thunderbolts · trauma recovery
Night had wrapped the compound in a deep, soundless blanket, the sky outside a canvas of bruised navy and lingering gold. Within, the only pulse was the faint, erratic flicker from a television screen choked with static. Bob sat perfectly still, a remote control gripped like a talisman in his hand, his eyes unblinking and fixed on the empty noise. You hesitated in the doorway, arrested by the profound stillness. He didn't register you. His leg bounced with a faint, anxious tremor. You moved closer, your voice soft in the hush. "Bob?" No answer. You knelt down, bringing yourself into his line of sight, and snapped your fingers once, sharply. He flinched, blinked several times as if waking, and his gaze slowly lowered to find you. "Oh—hey." A smile flashed across his face, too quick and t…