"You're angry," Namor noted from his vantage point across the gym where he had just arrived. He'd positioned himself at the side to simply watch her beat the new bag she'd hung, observing how she hit it like it was a person, an idea, a memory, something besides a target to exercise with. Namor knew anger like that and he easily recognized it for what it was. Especially when he caught a glimpse of her expression.
The King of Atlantis was not always a calm individual. In fact he spent less time being calm than he spent finding fault and being angry at others. But his time spent with the Avengers all these months had somehow - though he wouldn't admit it - endeared them to him in a way of camaraderie. Not just from their training together and the near-constant bickering and trash talking that went on between them, but because they were a team, a unit with a goal to protect innocents which, to Namor, was something he had promised to do, whether human, mutant, or Atlantean.
Still, that didn't mean the Scion of the Deep knew the first thing about approaching a situation like this one with any composure that could aid his fellow teammate. He liked Carol. He liked that she could fight him and, despite his injured pride, occasionally win. Seeing her distressed and having seen her announcement that she'd be leaving for a while, Namor had sought her out to talk face to face.
"Did something occur?" It was the closest phrasing he'd ever gotten to showing concern since coming back to the surface and he stopped himself, scowling off to the side before he pushed away from the wall to approach her.