“I usually ignore people when they tell me to shut up,” he says casually, torn between wanting to take offense at it and a willingness to let it slide. After a brief internal debate, he opts for the latter and, with a sigh, falls silent.

Silence is difficult enough for him, but combined with stillness it’s nearly impossible. He fidgets slightly, shifts his weight from one foot to another, picks at the pocket of his jeans, then gives it up as a lost cause and reaches out to run his fingertips over the Hulk’s hair. It’s a soothing, petting gesture, light enough and loose enough that his hand can be easily swatted away.

But there’s a point he’s making, both in the silent compliance that doesn’t come easily and in his determination to touch him. He’s not scared. And the Hulk’s not alone.