Mina takes one look at him and hisses out a resigned breath through her teeth, pushes him down into the chair, says,
"Open up," and puts the drops in his eyes. "Are you still drunk?" she says. "You need a neutralizer?"
"No, I’m not—I’m fine," Stiles says. "I was just up late—studying—"
"Save it for the cameras," Mina says. "I get the security report in my feed every morning." She tosses him a clean shirt, and Stiles pulls it obediently over his head. Min’s been dressing him for six years now; it’s easier not to argue.
"Nothing wrong with blowing off a little steam," Stiles says.
"Nothing wrong with looking like a reckless entitled dickhead in front of the whole fucking world a week before your father asks for their continued support in the war effort," Mina says.
"That’s not—" Mina starts yanking at his hair. It hurts. "I won’t fuck it up. I never do."
"Good," she says.
It’s a stupid fucking softball interview, the same boring questions they ask him every time, growing up on the cruiser with his dad, his mom—the interviewer’s face grows somber, and Stiles lets his smile drop off his face, feels the release of tension in his cheeks. He tells a few new wholly fictional stories about harmless pranks he and his nameless friends played last semester—clean stuff, boys will be boys. He doesn’t answer the questions about whether he’ll be leaving behind anyone special on earth, lifts one shoulder, laughs a little.
It’s the last interview before he ships out for two years on the far edge of the rim. They ask him what he’ll miss the most.
"everything," he says softly, voice cracking, and means nothing.
The clip runs for days, but Stiles is in cryo on the carrier and doesn’t have to see it.
however, even if someone else in that room had been a human boy at some point, they 100% would not have played with ships in bottles because unlike captain picard, they did not emerge into the world fully-formed as an erudite 19th century gentleman.
WHOSOEVER HOLDS THIS HAMMER, IF SHE BE WORTHY, SHALL POSSESS THE POWER OF THOR.
ACTUAL GODDESS NATASHA ROMANOV
I always knew she was one :D
As is so often true of comics, a lot of the awesome is in the details. Natasha can’t move the Hammer when she first reaches it. What makes her worthy at the end when she apparently wasn’t worthy just seconds before? Look at panels 2-3 again. Natasha’s got that big ogre right on top of her with his club already going back to strike … and instead of shooting it to save herself, she uses her last shot to bring down the flying reptile that’s chasing that fleeing shuttle. That act of self-sacrifice in the face of certain death is what made her worthy.