Re: [Facility: Tony/Steve]
[Steve watched Stark work, quiet as he stood there, his shirt wet against his skin and the cold, the cold everywhere.
He hated the cold.
But he deserved it. Crashing the Valkyrie had done nothing. So, he let it nip at his exposed skin without complaint, the tips of his ears red, like his nose, like his fingers, and the high crests of his cheeks. His hair blew long, only to drop, messily, when he went through the pneumatic doors.
He wasn't the type to believe himself misunderstood, alone or unique in his sadness or anger, but he had a hard time believing Tony Stark got it. You're upset about all the dead people. Right. That was one way to say it. Callously.—Blond brows came together and Steve frowned.] Some of these 'dead people' were the scientists performing the experiments on others. Some were victims and this was the last place they saw. [The mass graves he'd left behind recently—so, so recently—still reeked, their rot forever up his nose and crawling in his brain, the stench of death overwhelming, like it was thick enough to be choked on. A mass grave, full of emaciated bodies, old, young, men, women, everyone, each with their last time on earth a denial of their humanity. Like they didn't even deserve plots of their own. Like the people, now dead, were nothing but trash.
Steve looked away from Stark.] We should bury them.