[ A nod. Sam had said something like that before. That he'd been figuring things out, trying to keep everyone safe. One day he'll hear the rest, but for now it's good enough to know - and believe that Sam and his people all make it out in one piece.
But he can't quite banish the way his eyebrows have knit together, and though he doesn't know Sam all that well yet, it's clear enough that the guy's been through something that hit him hard. ]
Gimme everyone. I can sort out the rest. [ Though he wouldn't necessarily set aside Sam's bias. Not if there's good reason for it. ]
[ When that crease at Steve's brow doesn't go away, Sam can't help but reach out through their mental link. It's not something he's ready to talk about, but at the moment he's grateful for the connection so he can use it to say what he can't put into words. To leave the impression of that, a wordless promise that he'll tell Steve about it when he can.
Then he pulls back, putting up his shields enough to do his best to just let the images through, even if he knows it's gonna be impossible to separate them completely. ]
All right, yeah. You already know Clint, so-
Wanda Maximoff. [ The image of her is tinged with affection and the scent of nail polish as she waggles her freshly painted black nails at him, laughing. ] Scott Lang. [ A flash of exasperated amusement accompanies Scott's wide smile and bright eyes.] Natasha Romanoff. [ Her coy smirk is the first thing he thinks of, the gleam in her eyes when she's trying not to be amused by something he said. ] Tony Stark. [ And here he tries so damn hard, thinks of Tony babbling excitedly over his wings, but the image skips and there's a flicker of the last time he saw Tony from behind the glass wall of a cell. Sam lets it go just as quiet, resentful weariness starts to seep in, buries it under a sea of clouds and focuses on that for a moment before he gets back on track. ]
T'Challa. I dunno if he really counts, we just met him, but- [ There's a shrug, and the sense that the man Sam pictures came through for them. ] James Rhodes. [ He does better at holding back his guilt, but there's still a flash of falling before he focuses on an image of the way James would smirk whenever he gossiped about Tony. ] Vision. [ Obviously not human, but though there's a conflicted sense coming from Sam, there's also the impression that it doesn't have much to do with that. ]
[ He can't help it - when the images start to flow he closes his eyes, to better see and commit the faces to memory along with their names. Keeps quiet again, for the most part, his eyebrows raised just a bit - and a frown when Sam reaches Stark in the middle. His lips part but he holds his tongue until the slideshow is over, his eyes opening again to stare back at Sam. ]
I, uh, know a Stark. [ A beat. ] I don't know know him, but - [ That's a name he recognizes. And that flicker of memory, the glass wall from a first person view, the cells behind the guy's shoulder. His mouth shuts, jaw tight. He saw something there that wasn't meant for him. ]
I'm sorry. [ Says it now, though not for the guilt that threatened earlier. Another pause, and he shakes his head, glancing down. ] You oughta be able to trust the folks on your team.
Howard, right? That was Tony's dad. [ And one of Steve's friends, if not now then in the near future - Steve's future - but all Sam knows about those days of Steve's life is what Steve'd told him and what Tony occasionally rambled about.
It's easier to take an apology for that than it would be for any kind of guilt, because Sam's sorry about that, too. And it's somehow easier to explain the memory he hadn't meant to put out there, maybe because it is already out there. ] I thought I still could. Even with... everything, I still did. He came wanting some information that no one else was getting out of me, said he believed us and promised he wouldn't tell anyone and he'd use it as a friend. I dunno if he played me or keeping his word didn't mean much when it came down to it, but- [ He shakes his head, rolling his shoulders as if he's trying to shrug it off. ] Guess they'd probably say the same thing about us.
[ He looks up, shooting Steve a small smile. ] Thanks, man. For - for listening, for giving me a chance.
[ Howard Stark's son a superhero. The portrait from Sam's head showed a guy that looked to be in his forties or fifties.
He doesn't bother trying to spend much time processing that part. ]
For what it's worth, I would've made the same call. [ Trusting a teammate and a friend. Can't fault him for that decision, and Sam shouldn't fault himself for it. He meets the other man's gaze, offering his own smile, faint and lopsided and warm. ]
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But he can't quite banish the way his eyebrows have knit together, and though he doesn't know Sam all that well yet, it's clear enough that the guy's been through something that hit him hard. ]
Gimme everyone. I can sort out the rest. [ Though he wouldn't necessarily set aside Sam's bias. Not if there's good reason for it. ]
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Then he pulls back, putting up his shields enough to do his best to just let the images through, even if he knows it's gonna be impossible to separate them completely. ]
All right, yeah. You already know Clint, so-
Wanda Maximoff. [ The image of her is tinged with affection and the scent of nail polish as she waggles her freshly painted black nails at him, laughing. ] Scott Lang. [ A flash of exasperated amusement accompanies Scott's wide smile and bright eyes.] Natasha Romanoff. [ Her coy smirk is the first thing he thinks of, the gleam in her eyes when she's trying not to be amused by something he said. ] Tony Stark. [ And here he tries so damn hard, thinks of Tony babbling excitedly over his wings, but the image skips and there's a flicker of the last time he saw Tony from behind the glass wall of a cell. Sam lets it go just as quiet, resentful weariness starts to seep in, buries it under a sea of clouds and focuses on that for a moment before he gets back on track. ]
T'Challa. I dunno if he really counts, we just met him, but- [ There's a shrug, and the sense that the man Sam pictures came through for them. ] James Rhodes. [ He does better at holding back his guilt, but there's still a flash of falling before he focuses on an image of the way James would smirk whenever he gossiped about Tony. ] Vision. [ Obviously not human, but though there's a conflicted sense coming from Sam, there's also the impression that it doesn't have much to do with that. ]
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I, uh, know a Stark. [ A beat. ] I don't know know him, but - [ That's a name he recognizes. And that flicker of memory, the glass wall from a first person view, the cells behind the guy's shoulder. His mouth shuts, jaw tight. He saw something there that wasn't meant for him. ]
I'm sorry. [ Says it now, though not for the guilt that threatened earlier. Another pause, and he shakes his head, glancing down. ] You oughta be able to trust the folks on your team.
[ That's what he's sorry for. ]
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It's easier to take an apology for that than it would be for any kind of guilt, because Sam's sorry about that, too. And it's somehow easier to explain the memory he hadn't meant to put out there, maybe because it is already out there. ] I thought I still could. Even with... everything, I still did. He came wanting some information that no one else was getting out of me, said he believed us and promised he wouldn't tell anyone and he'd use it as a friend. I dunno if he played me or keeping his word didn't mean much when it came down to it, but- [ He shakes his head, rolling his shoulders as if he's trying to shrug it off. ] Guess they'd probably say the same thing about us.
[ He looks up, shooting Steve a small smile. ] Thanks, man. For - for listening, for giving me a chance.
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He doesn't bother trying to spend much time processing that part. ]
For what it's worth, I would've made the same call. [ Trusting a teammate and a friend. Can't fault him for that decision, and Sam shouldn't fault himself for it. He meets the other man's gaze, offering his own smile, faint and lopsided and warm. ]
Anytime.
[ He's the one that should be thanking Sam. ]