In truth, he'd come here to find Coulson. All he'd been getting were strange half reports and then suddenly the Cube was gone and the Avengers tower was down and he had no fucking idea where his agent was until he got a report that the man was at the fucking Museum of Modern Art with the Avengers and a bunch of civilians. His only real thought now was to finding out what the fuck was going on and that was when he came across Jessica alone in the room with it's blue light and stark white walls. His purposeful stride slowed to a stop when he saw her and he frowned, not sure what he was supposed to stay. She was pissed at him, he knew, but she wasn't the only one and they had a goddamn apocalypse on their hand. Maybe it was best to clear the air anyway, though, because if he went out he didn't want to go out knowing the woman he loved hated him along with half the other people he cared about.
"Hey," he greeted her with a nod, ambling cautiously closer with his hands shoved in the pockets of his trench coat. He knew he looked so damned awkward and he hated the feeling of losing control when he was near Jess just about as much as he loved it. It was a weird contradiction.