Sam Wilson paced. He always paced when he was in a cell. He didn’t know why. He just didn’t like the idea of sitting still. Wanda Maximoff was the exact opposite. She sat completely still, her unblinking gaze facing forward and her knees drawn up to her chest. Her expression was so blank sometimes Sam would pause and intently look at her to make sure she was still breathing. And every time she was.
Being in a cell without the aid of sunlight left one disoriented. Sam believed it had been twenty-four hours since they Dr. Frost had come to see them but he wasn’t sure. For all he knew, it could’ve been only four hours. He was certain about one thing though. He had been in here far too long.
He walked over to the glass and punched it again. Shaking his hand free of the pain he shook his head with annoyance. They needed to get out of here. They had to get out of here.