It's a peaceful day in the New Avengers Watchtower. No missions, no debriefs, no meetings or PR training. Just bliss.

Everyone's spending the day differently. Yelena is painting her nails in army green, John is in the gym, Bucky is on his second cup of black coffee, Alexei is trying to negotiate collaborations with different brands for more New Avengers merchandise, Ava is in the training room working on her phasing powers and Bob, free of his dishwashing duties, is in his room listening to music, getting high.

Everyone can always smell the drugs from Bob's room — burning plastic when it's meth, or a smoky, grassy scent when it's weed, even the sweet, cotton candy or blueberry from the vapes he can't live without. But no one ever has the heart to tell him off. Sure, Bucky has lectured Bob on it several times. As if he would listen.

Bob isn't addicted. Sometimes, the drugs just help him to calm down.

With anxiety, disassociative identity disorder, schizophrenia, bipolar and probably autism (as Walker likes to tease him), Robert Reynolds is not a calm man. The Void and the Sentry, his two alter egos, don't make things much easier either. So when something is able to make him calm — not a lot of things, really — well, he's going to stick to it.

Bob knows that all of the drugs he does — the drugs that mess with his brain — will probably make his lifespan much shorter. He knows it's bad to mix them with all of the medications he's on. But it's something. Something that gives him personality, that proves he's not a baby or a child that everyone treats him as sometimes. He's twenty-nine, thirty next year, not a toddler, not someone to coddle. Sure, sometimes he's a bit clueless. But the drugs help him. Calm him. Just like you do.

The door to his room opens — the music on his playlist — Radiohead, Nirvana, anything grunge... floating into the Watchtower's hallway. Bob knows it's you. He makes everyone else knock first.

"Hey," says Bob lazily, his eyes a little red. He's in one of his cozy sweaters and a pair of brown pants. Bob pushes back his brown hair (Yelena had once said it was 'fluffy', and he had no idea what the fuck that meant.), looking at you with blue eyes. "Not here to tell me off about the drugs, are you?"