quicklog: gwen/jason, hotel
[Jason came through the hotel door fast, so fast he had to stumble and catch himself before he hit the wall. The door behind him slammed unceremoniously shut, and the second he caught a glimpse of Gwen he rounded, shifting his momentum, coming to a stop just in front of her.
He'd made it. It hadn't been a sure thing, either. He would have hated to admit it, but the Hydra agents he'd drawn down on him after taking the first two down had been tough, even with reduced numbers.
He was wearing the full Red Hood uniform, helmet, jacket and all. It had made him a conspicuous target, which was sort of the point, and the exoskeleton Tony had built encased him. All appeared to be as it had been before until he wrested the helmet off his head, intent on getting a clear look at her.]
Jesus, you're bleeding all over the place. [He dropped down to one knee to look at her leg, looking up at her.] What happened? [He reached for one of the pockets at his waist and the compressed emergency bandages inside. They weren't a miracle, but they could staunch bleeding and stabilize in a pinch.
He was still young. Not as young as he'd been at the party, when they danced and didn't really know each other - he was at least a year or two older than that. This Jason had a quality the other had lacked, a tightness around the eyes, a severity, a harshness even when smiling. It was more raw now, in the person in front of her, than it had been when they had first met. He had all his memories, sure, but some seemed more immediate than others, and he had the immediacy and impatience that the person she knew had already started to age out of. All the fire, none of the years to bring it down. As far as he was concerned, the Pit had only been a year ago.
She hadn't seen what had happened to the Hydra agents, but he bore all the signs of being in a fight. He had a bruise to his temple, as he could still take a good knock, even with the helmet on. His arms were a little stiff, as was breathing too deeply or shifting his chest from the tightness of bullets striking the exoskeleton. Blood on his shoes, and blood, almost invisible, splashed across the dark clothes and black metal skeleton.]