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The anger fizzled out of her when Stark described Octavia's doubt.  Her expression turned pained and she stepped forward again to bury her face in his dark pelt.  Banner wanted desperately to shoulder his angish, his self-doubt - this was not the brother she knew.  Her Stark was a self-assured, confident male.  Her Stark made quick decisions and somehow forced everything to work out.  Her Stark was the best of both of them, the one who shielded her when she felt weak and encouranged her when she didn't want it but dearly needed it.

The short Marauder took in a shaky breath.  "Talk to her," she murmured, her low voice muffled in his fur.  "You'll go round and round with yourself until you face it head on."  Oh, and she was one to talk about such things.  Banner was more apt to turn tail and run from an emotional conflict like this.  Words weren't her thing.  She couldn't rage herself out of having a heart-to-heart.  But Stark had always been a smooth talker.  He'd do well.

He had to.

"We'll figure out the rest later," she added, determination coloring her voice.