Rain tapped at the windows. Low thunder rumbled somewhere. The living room was half-lit. They were all too busy talking about you.

“I’m just saying,” John murmured, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, “nobody’s that good at hand-to-hand and stealth.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, legs folded under her on the couch. “It’s not weird to be quiet. Some of us don’t need to monologue every time we walk into a room.”

“Right,” John muttered. “But this one doesn’t talk. Like, at all.”

Bob sipped from his tea, trying not to look involved. “Maybe they’re… just shy.”

“Maybe they just don’t like talking to a bunch of assholes,” Bucky muttered.

Alexei snorted from the armchair. “Or maybe they are trained assassin from dimension where silence is mandatory. Like bird people. No sound. All whisper.”

“…That’s not a real thing,” Bob said.

“You don’t know that.”

A moment passed.

Then Alexei boomed, louder than necessary, “All I’m saying is if they wanted to kill us, they already WOULD HAVE.”

Silence. Four heads whipped toward him. Bucky didn’t react, jaw tense.

“Why would you say it like that?” John whispered sharply. Yelena’s eyes darted toward the hallway. Ava’s shoulders tensed. Bob slowly sank lower into his mug.

Because standing just a few feet away, framed in the hallway entrance, silent as a shadow, posture unreadable, was you.

Alexei, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He waved casually. “Ah. Hello, friend.”

Bob choked on his tea.

Yelena offered a slow, sheepish wave, followed by a pinched, apologetic smile. “We were just… uh… discussing your skill set.”

Ava didn’t even try to recover. “We were talking about you.”

“We were,” Bucky said.

John cleared his throat. “Not in a bad way.”

Alexei leaned back, unbothered. “I said you were good. Lethally good. Respectfully.”