Bruce wandered up East 60th street, trying to imagine Loki living there.  His imagination wasn't that good.  The street was ordinary, bustling with people in the late afternoon sunshine and very human.  Bruce smiled, shaking his head.  The god of mischief running an orphanage...he almost didn't believe it, except he did.  Finally, he found himself standing in front of the orphanage, a bit surprised.  It seemed kinda large and...well, not like he expected a city orphanage to look.  

Bruce didn't bother knocking, but went inside, finding the children playing everywhere.  They looked happy, he was relieved to see. 

Bruce Banner ran.  He had thought, hoped, prayed that living with Tony Stark and being part of the Avengers would protect him from part of the issues that had plagued him for the past several years...the Ross-shaped parts.  No such luck.  Banner had been out, running some shopping errands, when he had run straight into a mass of Hulk-busters.  Fortunately, being on the Avengers had, if anything, only improved his reflexes.  Banner had ducked down an alley and scurried behind some cars.

He did not want a repeat of Harlem.  

He wanted to be left alone.  

A park was nearby, so he headed into the small wooded area, taking refuge under a wooden bridge.  He ducked as far out of sight as he could and worked on controlling his breathing, calming the Hulk and trying to clear the green haze creeping over his vision.