[ He's been giving his friends what he'd consider a respectful distance ever since Sam laid the future out as plain and simple as anyone could hope to manage.

He doesn't want Natasha telling the other two to lay off. He doesn't need Sam telling him he doesn't have to apologize. Doesn't want to be reminded that him and Bucky are on shaky ground.

He doesn't want to be seen that way. He doesn't want to keep feeling like he's just passing by.

A reminder of the past. A ghost in their lives.

Ineffective.

(he doesn't want to, or he's not ready to hear them argue that's not how it is
or to find out he's right)

He doesn't ignore them or outright avoid them. He just keeps busy, and everything going on since the Thessyx arrived helps keep his wheels on some kind of track instead of spinning in the dirt. Keeps him focused. And in that way he doesn't have to pretend nothing's wrong. There isn't.

And now there's word spreading around the camp about another problem heaped on the rest. He'd been heading in the direction of the theatre when he hears someone shout:

Hey! Knock it off, get away from that—

A small group of kids huddles close, staring down at something on the ground between them. One of the shrieks, in laughter or pain, it's hard to tell, and whatever's on the ground hisses. ]