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“How are you feeling?”
He treated the phrase less like a question, more a demand for an answer. Momoa didn’t mind; him being genuinely concerned would have been scarier than him yelling and chewing her out for failing so spectacularly.
Momoa tilted her head; if the resulting spring of pain was anything to go off of, she’d have a pretty clear winner: Shitty.
Zodyl waited, unmoving as Momoa gave her temple a cautionary prod, finding that it hurt deeply. Her answer came then: “Like a trash beast just chewed my brains out and shit it into a meat grinder.”
In that moment some tiny, unseen force tugged at his brows, inching upward just enough to be recognizable as a reaction; like his subconscious was trying to bully any crumb of emotion out of the boss man's face.
“I see.”
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Let's clarify this by saying: Nothing, I mean nothing about this was the team’s idea.
Yelena would have been JUST FINE spending the holiday season locked the same way she would spend it any other year: Locked up in the Watchtower, eating mac n cheese, and trying to drown out any trace of this god-awful season from her mind.
But nooo. It just so happened that the source of all of life’s problems wasn’t just a shit-eating pair of beady-eyed weasels in a trenchcoat with an awful hair dye job pretending to be their manager; It was also money. Money that the “New Avengers Initiative” didn’t have.
And instead of doing something normal like a garage sale, community service, or whatever sweaty little children did to get money, Val had the bright bloody idea to capitalize on old Saint Nick; set them up in a mall in the middle of New York, presents and elf costumes and all.
Why?
Because it's the most wonderful time of the year, of course! And why not capitalize on that by having a bunch of ex-convicts and mercenaries give presents to children?
Fuckng A+.