i-do-not-act:

The cosmic sentinel could sense the discomfort and unhappiness coming off of Captain Marvel in waves. It was evident that his presence put her at unease. This was often the case with those not as advanced or as long-lived as his own species.

Uatu cocked his head slightly. “I am the Watcher. I must watch,” he stated calmly, as if this was the most obvious thing in the universe. His voice filled the room, although he spoke in a quiet tone.

Carol matched the tilt of his head, posture straightening fully back to normal. "'The Watcher.' That a name, or a job title? And why watch me, in particular? There are plenty of other people in this world who would be more than happy to give you an eyeful. Is there some specific reason you chose me to stare at?"

i-do-not-act:

The towering Watcher did not react any further. Instead he merely continued to stare. He felt tension mounting in the air. His viewing subject was on edge. After so many millennia, Uatu had grown used to this reaction from beings all across the universe.

Zemo had plenty that still needed to be accomplished. He would not take his eyes off the creature in the room, however, that would be a mistake he would not make. It’s silence grated on Zemo more and more with each passing minute. The thing needed to speak or leave, and if it would not make the choice on its own, Zemo would have to provide the incentive. 

Aeron’s attention was tirelessly placed on the greased up engine before her, nothing but the steady rhythm of a socket wrench keeping her company. Another Sunday, another day to work on her baby. Give it another month and Aeron was confident that she’d be street ready. This beamed pride in her, to be able to construct by hand what her own powers could give to her instantly. Only proving to herself that she was just as skilled, mutant or not. Letting go of the tool that continued to tighten away,  she strode to the tool box to look for a bolt. 

The hairs on the nape of her neck began to rise, a sudden feeling that she was no longer alone began to fill in the spaces of the empty garage. Knowing all too well what it could mean if it wasn’t a friend  dropping by unannounced. Dropping the bolt back into the pile, Aeron’s hand reached for her multi-tool that was fasten to the back of her belt in it’s “tube” mode as she spun around looking for whatever had come across her path. 

“Far too late in the day to be getting the drop on me.” Aeron extended the multi-tool to its common form: the bo-staff. “Come out where I can see you.” She called out into the emptiness. “Show me where you are or I’ll have no choice but to make you show yourself.”

Zemo had been spending countless hours alone in his study. His plotting and planning took work, hours upon hours of constant research, scheming. This was a chess game and he would not allow himself to be on the wrong end of the final checkmate. All things must be perfect, all things must be inline with his plan and go exactly to plan. Nothing could-

He could sense eyes on him from somewhere, a corner in the room perhaps. It was now that he regretted not buying brighter lamps, or at least more of them. Confident and fearless as it made him appear, he did not like being caught unawares. He had not gotten to this point by being sloppy.