Sixteen years of press junkets and photo ops should have adequately prepared Scott for speaking in front of people, but this felt different. This was different. For one, his audience was drastically smaller - and captive, more or less. There was at least a moderate interest in what he had to say, or else he wouldn't have been asked here in the first place. Which was the other thing that set this apart from any other time he'd been drawn into the spotlight: he was being pressed for his earnest opinion. There was no masks to slip into place and no doublespeak to wade through.
It was kind of terrifying, actually.
He cleared his throat as Tony ceded the floor, adjusting in his seat despite the fact that finding a comfortable position for himself was futile while all eyes were on him. "All right, me? Yeah, so. Having an escape plan is good, sure, but how realistic is it? There's nowhere to go if we do manage to get out, and there's no telling how that plays out for anybody left behind. I'm not going to do anything that might make Cassie more of a target than she already is, not if I can't get her out of the Capitol before I go in." Scott drew in a deep, steadying breath, because he hadn't yet prepared himself for that eventuality - saying the words out loud were as close as he'd gotten. "We gotta have something in place if escaping or bailing just can't be done. This thing can't die with us, otherwise we'll have died for nothing, and, hey, that sucks dicks. Not interested in doing that. So for those of us who we know aren't going in," his eyes flickered to Bucky, briefly, "I've got a decent amount of information to deliver, and I can try to collect more while I'm still here. And Hank Pym is willing to turn over the equipment he uses to monitor the Districts if he gets called up. You won't be flying completely blind, at least."
Another deep breath. Scott leaned an elbow on the tabletop to prop his chin on his thumb and press his index finger to his mouth, shaking his head in vague bewilderment.