Nick nodded at Tony's words, but stayed silent save for his pained groans as he continued to dig the blade of his knife in his shoulder. The countdown flashed at him () and Nick decided his best option was to ignore it. He finally worked the bullet out with an audible sigh of relief, tucking it and the knife away as his shoulder tingled slightly where the skin was sealing itself now that there was nothing to obstruct its healing.
Fury glanced up at the screens again () and down at Tony's drawn and sweaty face. Seven and a half minutes to stop two missiles. There were casualties in war, Nick understood this, and if Tony didn't catch all the bombs no one could blame him. He'd tried his best, but Nick was sure that wasn't going to be good enough and that Stark would feel guilty anyway. Stark was an Avenger and a civilian, not a soldier, and Nick felt a pang of sympathy for him. On the screen one of the unknowns now read: Wakanda and the countdown flashed at
"Thank you, Tony," Nick mumbled, "You're doing great kid." It was no more than a breath, he didn't want to ruin Stark's concentration, but he thought maybe he needed some encouragement. Death was something it took a long damned time to get used to.