The cool, inviting atmosphere of the refrigerator was a bit like Heaven. Bruce couldn't recall the last good meal he'd eaten; honestly, if he did try to think about it he supposed it was back some time ago in a place that seemed very far away. That light was welcoming and the shelves were overstocked with anything his heart desired. He noticed that someone, maybe, had prepared a cake. It was a glorious thing that sat confidently upon a dish and despite having a chunk or two missing it had appeal.
But before he could indulge, Bruce thought he heard a familar voice calling him over the hum of the food cooler. Learning back, he closed the door, turned and moved back toward where he'd entered through. Steve? Eyes narrowing in a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, it didn't take him long to find the man in question.
He stopped abruptly, confused. How had Steve gotten there? Not only that but when? He'd left the Avenger behind with everyone else. "Hey," Bruce replied. It wasn't that he lacked the excitement of seeing one of the few he was proud to fight beside and take orders from but this whole thing was beginning to give him a headache. "What is this place?"