Otatso Wetlands Sorry Isn't Enough

Grace seemed to be calming down some, which was nice for her, because Stark wasn't sure what he would going to do with himself. The woman was still close, hovering like Stark was going to break when he wasn't the one who had collapsed twice. Stark was being bitter. He was being judgemental. He was being irrational. He was grieving. The impulse for a moment to chase her far away almost took hold but Stark had never been the type to lash out that way. 

He internalized, instead, stewing every hateful thought he'd ever had, any mean and cruel thing that had ever flickered through his brain. All the things he'd thought about Octavia, how mad he had been at her - it was of course unable to be undone, he'd thought it, he had to live with it. And she? Well. She wouldn't live with anything ever again. "Doing a great job?" Stark scoffed and his gaze fell to the ground, another rise of anger rolling through his stomach. 

"If I was doing such a great job I would have found Pippin and Mordecai, I would have found Octavia. I would have been able to fix things." He grumbled lowly.