No. [He hasn't, in fact, lost interest in his body. He just wants to dig it up alone and scowl at it and not have to deal with accusatory looks or remarks, like the fact that it's somehow 'his body' and how he's been naughty. But he realises how petty and immature he would sound if he says that aloud, so he just grunts and leaves Zemo hanging.
It really was self-defense, but. It doesn't look like it, does it? He didn't call it in. Didn't turn himself in. He really did have a moment of panic, without a serum he'd taken for granted, and without his afterthought of an arm to help make it less of a struggle.
And he really did feel something else when he killed the man with his bare hands. There was fear, yes. A bit of a panic. And there was that dirty little rush of more than just adrenaline. Maybe he would feel differently about it if he thought HYDRA made a monster out of him. But he genuinely believes the thing inside him that HYDRA brought out. And Zemo knows, it's still there. It always was.
But if he doesn't talk about it, he never felt it. It's Just Adrenaline, and nothing more.
He wordlessly fills the kettle with water and keeps his gaze downcast while he sets it to boil. He could do better than shitty instant coffee but he isn't in the mood. And Zemo's getting the same, unless he's in the mood to brew something better.]
I didn't-- [What, mean to kill him? But he did. It wasn't exactly an accident either. And god only knows what his fake wife thinks of him. He hasn't told her anything. They've hardly spoken since the incident. It's not exactly how he thought domestic life was going to look like, walking on eggshells around each other all the time. But what the hell does he know about living a normal life anyway?
He licks his lips and breathes out a short, sharp sigh.]
There wasn't any other way. [Or so he hears himself say, talking to the stove.]
no subject
It really was self-defense, but. It doesn't look like it, does it? He didn't call it in. Didn't turn himself in. He really did have a moment of panic, without a serum he'd taken for granted, and without his afterthought of an arm to help make it less of a struggle.
And he really did feel something else when he killed the man with his bare hands. There was fear, yes. A bit of a panic. And there was that dirty little rush of more than just adrenaline. Maybe he would feel differently about it if he thought HYDRA made a monster out of him. But he genuinely believes the thing inside him that HYDRA brought out. And Zemo knows, it's still there. It always was.
But if he doesn't talk about it, he never felt it. It's Just Adrenaline, and nothing more.
He wordlessly fills the kettle with water and keeps his gaze downcast while he sets it to boil. He could do better than shitty instant coffee but he isn't in the mood. And Zemo's getting the same, unless he's in the mood to brew something better.]
I didn't-- [What, mean to kill him? But he did. It wasn't exactly an accident either. And god only knows what his fake wife thinks of him. He hasn't told her anything. They've hardly spoken since the incident. It's not exactly how he thought domestic life was going to look like, walking on eggshells around each other all the time. But what the hell does he know about living a normal life anyway?
He licks his lips and breathes out a short, sharp sigh.]
There wasn't any other way. [Or so he hears himself say, talking to the stove.]