Betty rushed up to Bruce, face flushed. "Bruce, what's wrong? Don't you recognize me? It's me—Betty!"
Bruce glanced at her and spoke softly. "Of course I recognize you. I wish you happiness."
Betty understood then: Bruce had seen she had a new boyfriend.
Her new boyfriend—a psychiatrist named Samson—stood as well, frowning at the scene. "Betty, what's going on?"
He was starting to suspect who Bruce really was.
Betty's heart twisted. She loved Bruce, but Samson had good qualities—smart, funny, attentive. Torn, she didn't know what to say.
Maguire let go of Bruce's wrist. "Sit. Have a coffee. There's very little a cup of coffee can't solve."
"Bruce, sit first. Let's talk," Betty pleaded.
A moment later, the owner, Stan Lee, set two coffees on the table in front of Maguire, then nodded toward Bruce. Bruce hesitated, then sat.
Samson had basically put it together. With a polite smile, he said, "You must be Betty's ex—Mr. Bruce."
A needle under velvet. The message was clear: Betty is with me now—give it up.
Betty shot Bruce an apologetic look. "Bruce, I couldn't find you, so—"
"It's fine. I understand. I wish you happiness," Bruce said.
His cool tone stabbed at her. Compared to Samson, she still preferred Bruce. She ignored Samson's feelings and blurted, "Bruce, can we… start over?"
Samson's face changed. "So I'm the spare tire? You're dumping me now?"
He stood, staring at her. "Betty, was everything you said to me last night a lie?"
Anyone could hear what he was implying.
Bruce's brows knotted; his fists clenched. A faint green crept into his face.
Betty swung on Samson, furious. "What are you saying? Samson, we're done. Get out."
Samson snorted. "Fine. In that case, I wish you two all the best." He turned and left.
Maguire took a delicate sip of coffee—like watching a live, melodramatic soap opera.
Betty looked at Bruce, eyes red. "Bruce, believe me. You're the only one I love. When I heard anything about you, I went crazy looking, but I couldn't do anything. If you were here, I would never have done this. Please—can you forgive me?"
Seeing her like that, poor Bruce's heart ached. He wanted to forgive her.
Maguire spoke first. "So you really are the Hulk. Now I know how you got 'green.' In a scene like this, you can still swallow it? Respect."
Bruce and Betty both stared, stunned.
"How do you know I'm the Hulk? Who are you?" Bruce asked.
"Who I am doesn't matter," Maguire said, smiling coldly. "What matters is: are you going to keep being the big green guy… or let 'love' make you even greener?"
"If this woman truly loved you, you've been gone not even a year—and she's already moved on. Some epic romance."
Bruce's heart thudded. He thought of what Samson had just implied… breath quickened. He could feel the change looming. He forced deep breaths, trying to hold it back. When he looked at Betty again, anger flickered in his eyes.
Betty snapped at Maguire, "Who are you to judge us? You have no right!"
"Do I?" Maguire snorted. "Couldn't care less. I just don't want to watch a man play the simp."
Bruce turned to him. He'd never heard the term "simp," but the meaning wasn't hard to guess. He drew himself up and said firmly, "I won't be a simp anymore."
Betty's face crumpled; her hatred for Maguire spiked. "If you've got the guts, stay right here!"
"Oh, I've got plenty," Maguire said with a lazy grin. "I'll be right here—go fetch your dear daddy."
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