Tipping his head, Tony fixes him with a stare and a crooked frown. “Okay, I know where you’re going to try to go with that, but it’s not going to get there. It’s like trying to compare apples and shoelaces. You just can’t.”

Being a vampire isn’t anything like the Hulk. The Hulk is Bruce. The Hulk is a thinking, rational, feeling part of Bruce who’s just had a really shitty run of life and doesn’t always know his own strength. He’s not a bloodthirsty killer who preys on other people to survive.

“The Hulk’s alive. The Hulk doesn’t eat people. He’s a part of you. He cares about you and me and people I don’t know who he’s talking about because he doesn’t use their names. He’s also not dead. I’m dead. I don’t have a heartbeat. My skin’s cold. You said my eyes aren’t the right color. I have pointy teeth. That’s not natural.” He can hear the whine entering his voice, but damn it, if there’s ever been a reason to whine, this is it. “I’m going to catch fire in the sun. I’ll probably turn into a bat. The only way this could possibly be any worse is if I was one of those stupid Twilight vampires.”

And those are so much worse than the Hulk. Please.