[Bruce definitely is one of those people that feels guilty for Phil being in the hospital. In fact, he's managed to twist the whole thing into being partially his fault; if he hadn't Hulked out, if he hadn't been susceptible to what the sceptor was putting out, if he'd just left the room and put some space between him and it, there wouldn't have been that chaos. Maybe Thor could have handled his brother instead of the Hulk, maybe everything could have been stopped right then, before all the destruction to the city.

Because sure, they saved the day, but in the end, Bruce stared out at New York in ruins for the second time, and knew that he had done some of that. It didn't feel like victory.

He's not here to feel bad for himself, and he isn't here to feel bad for Phil, either; there's no pity, self or otherwise, because pity doesn't get anyone anywhere. Bruce has had a long six, seven, eight, something years to figure that out, but even before that, too. He's here to fix something, if it's broken, and to rebuild.

He knocks on the door, two taps of his knuckle, before he pokes his head in. He has a bag in his hands, simple and mostly unadorned, but purple ribbon ties the handles shut to make it look more like a gift.]

Hey. Mind if I pay my respects to the resident almost martyr?