driftfleet | 02. | All lies and jests; still a man hears what he wants to hear

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02. | All lies and jests; still a man hears what he wants to hear

Who: (Winter Soldier) Bucky Barnes (

sinistral)
Broadcast: No
Action: Yes; SS Starduck, SS Iskaulit, B'lire
When: From the start of the post-calibrations drift to visiting the new planet

SS STARDUCK
→ Reacclimation;

The time spent aboard the Marsiva had been uncomfortable, to put it politely. Bucky still doesn't believe it, not really, when they're returned to their own ships; it comes with staying awake for the first twenty-four hours just to make sure this isn't a dream or a trick of the mind. Considering the state of his mind, he's not entirely convinced, but it does seem a little bit elaborate to just be a part of the Calibrations.

And if this is truly the ship, if they are truly back to what passes for daily life around here, then it has to start with checking over everything. Maybe he's taking the whole idea of Security a bit too literally but now that he's had some time to think about it, he can only conclude that his presence and assignment here is due only to what he is. What HYDRA turned him into has made him valuable; if he performs his role well, perhaps the switch inside his brain won't be flipped. So for that reason he's combing all of the ships nooks and crannies, looking for anything that might be out of order or out of (what passes for) the ordinary. He won't enter a crewmate's quarters without being asked to do so though; he sees it as too much an invasion of privacy.

When he's finally satisfied and no longer has that activity to occupy his mind, Bucky heads to the workout area in the cargo bay. He doesn't know which former crewmembers had seen to the upgrades of the equipment there, but he's thankful to be able to take advantage of it once more. And, judging by the force behind his punches, to do his best to attempt to break it. There's a lot of frustration to work out, enough so that it's definitely palpable. Call him out on it? Try to keep up? Pity the amount of protein solid he's going to have to consume to compensate for all those burned calories?

SS ISKAULIT
→ Work It Out;

Bucky really only has one goal in mind in coming to the Iskaulit: to push himself in a way he can't with the limited facilities on the Starduck, to force the body into exhaustion since the brain won't accept any other sort of quiet. That it's not the healthiest pursuit doesn't matter. As long as it works, it's fine. And he'll make it work.

He tries to choose odd hours if possible, hours that coincide with the times he'd expect most people to be sleeping and the facility to be empty. It doesn't always work in his favor but as long as there's a heavy bag or a speedbag available he stays, alternating time spent against the bag with weights. And if the facility appears too busy for his liking, he simply leaves with the intention of returning later.

→ Art Appreciation;

Though most of his time spent aboard the Iskaulit is spent in the gym, it's not the only reason Bucky visits. He hardly appreciates heavy-handed attempts at steering his actions but whether it had been the Vision, or the Atroma acting through the Vision, the scene he'd been shown of the mural aboard the Iskaulit has not faded from his memory. That in and of itself is significant enough for him to seek out the mural he'd been shown, to find its location and maybe figure out why it's so important.

Seeing it doesn't bring him any answers.

It's a nice enough work of art he supposes; he's not one for appreciation of the arts, and he's got no skill in them himself. He can draw a rough map though, so the next time he visits, he brings along a journal and starts copying down that section of the wall he was shown aboard the Marsiva, mapping it out in rough lines on the paper. It's not a good drawing, more a diagram than anything else, but it's good enough for his purposes, good enough for him to write down his thoughts (questions, mostly) on the next few pages. And it's a good enough place to sit quietly, back against the wall because even here, in a place that's supposed to be peaceful, he's defensive and closed off more than anything else.

PLANETSIDE
→ Hunting;

It's more than a literal breath of fresh air to get off the ships and onto solid ground again. It's not that Bucky doesn't do well with being cooped up; it's more that the close quarters with others — even his shipmates — and the happenings on board the Marsiva have him feeling like a caged animal. And like a caged animal, his first instinct is to lash out; fortunately, the punching bags have held up against such expulsion of energy. So far, anyway.

Fortunately, this system's planet seems well suited to his kind of stress relief.

He's a regular in the wooded areas both for the exercise of hiking and the action of hunting. Ghosts or supernatural beings or whatever, he'll keep an eye out for them just fine, but it's the more substantial creatures that he makes his prey. People are willing to pay both for pelts and for the meat from carcasses; it seems a good use of his time.

→ Shopping;

Man certainly can't stay in the woods all the time and while Bucky's no stranger to wilderness survival, it'd be foolish not to take advantage of the offerings available via trade. And not all goods are physical; there's certainly something to be said for the pursuit of information, even though little enough of it seems to pertain to anything outside of this world's particular customs. Still he asks, here and there, unsatisfied by the answers but unwilling to stop trying.

He's examining wares at a particular establishment, carefully testing the weight and balance of a hunting knife while keeping half his attention on the conversations of the building's other occupants. It's when he overhears stories of a metallic man that he decides to take his leave; local legend or not, it definitely sounds like something he'd rather avoid being tangled up in and he's glad to have kept the habit of wearing long sleeves and gloves when going planetside. It's just easier to avoid the questions that he doesn't want to answer.

WILDCARD
→ Elsewhere;

Did we discuss something and I forgot? Have another idea? I'm open to almost anything, hit me up via PM or at

sometimesamuse and we'll figure out out. I do write starters in prose but if you prefer brackets I'm happy to match.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The book is closed and tucked away; the motions are efficient. It's not the furtive movement of someone trying to deliberately hide something, but more just something that's simple, practiced. It's the same way he'd holster a gun or a knife and he turns his attention to her. That her positioning is deliberate occurs to him of course; if nothing else, they both still recognize the potential for danger in each other.

"Technically." He doesn't think being shown a vision of the mural on the Marsiva counts. "It's. Nice."

Yeah, he has no idea how to talk about art, and it probably shows.

"You think so?" Not exactly high praise, though she can tell it doesn't come from a place of contempt. She can't blame him for not knowing what to say. Not like having opinions was something Hydra encouraged in its weapons. "Do you know its history?"

"No. It was suggested to me that I visit it." From the emphasis he puts on the word and considering their until recent abode, she can probably deduct that the suggestion had been made in Calibrations. That alone had incited stubbornness more than anything else, but it's not like coming here had inconvenienced him too much. In fact, he's a little surprised at how quiet it is. "More than that wasn't shared."

"I can see how that might happen." Which is a tactful way of saying that she can do that math. Natasha suspected as much and his reaction is more than enough confirmation.

She turns toward the painting. "They tell me that it's supposed to be sort of a monument to the passengers who've left. Things that happened here too. I knew the artist, Wrath. Not as good as the previous version of me though. Not sure we ever quite recovered from the awkwardness of me not remembering her when I showed up."

Not that it was on Wrath. Just the fact that it wasn't always possible to rediscover a dynamic after it was lost.

"She's been gone a while now."

He hadn't doubted her ability to pick up on the unsaid but it's still nice to not have to explain it in any sort of detail.

"They tell me that. People leave. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes they're the same, sometimes not. Sometimes they remember, sometimes not." Whatever it all means though, no one can quite answer that. At least, not to any level of satisfaction.

And, Bucky supposes, he's one of those people. Gone and back, for whatever it's worth and whatever it means.

"More often and not, they don't, but.. it happens." She's sure by this point, Barnes is very familiar with people hoping that he'd remember them, or even if they don't, remembering him. "That was the way it was for me when I showed up. There was another Natasha Romanoff here before me. Hear she was even a captain on another ship."

"Of course it would. Inconsistency only serves these Atroma well, doesn't it?" Some people remember, some don't, and no discernible pattern linking the two. It becomes a crap shoot then, for all intents and purposes, and the only stakes are the feelings of those who have to deal with it.

Sounds about right, from what he's gathered.

But Natasha at least has been kind, if Bucky had to put a word to it. He wouldn't call her a friend, but they could very easily be hostile with each other. Instead they've settled into this sort of truce, albeit with her making most of the effort. So he offers up an effort of his own: "seems a pretty strong captain choice to me."

The compliment takes her off guard. Not exactly by surprise. She's very familiar with Barnes's ability to appear broken and half feral, then pick through the pieces of his memories and feelings and show you something human.

Natasha gives half a smile, wry. Seeing as how she's recently captain herself, it's a timely thing to say even if it's not so strategic.

"Keeps us off balance. Stirs up drama. I'm sure this is all getting wild ratings."

It'd been something of a peace offering, and to his eyes she takes it gracefully. There's a lot more between them than what they simply choose to say to each other, but the beauty of it is that they choose not to say it to each other. This isn't what he would call friendship — or even comfort — but it is a hell of a lot more comfortable than it could potentially be.

His smile reflects the wryness of her own. Ratings certainly are a thing around here, and he's noticed his own personal account getting something of a boost later. He's certainly annoyed by it but at the same time, he fully plans to put some of those credits to use.

"We all know ratings are life around here." He doesn't bother to hide the sarcasm. "But for now, I'll play their game."

"If you ever figure out a way not to, let me know." Natasha's voice is nearly a deadpan, just a little catch coming through to ruin the effect. It's hard to identify just what the inflection even is. She tries not to think about it too hard herself.

"Maybe we'll get a little bit of a break now that calibrations are over?" At least they get to pretend they have privacy.

"You'll be the first I tell." Which is better than calling her out on that catch — for both of them. She more than deserves that amount of respect.

He does make a shushing motion with his hand though, to break some of the tension that's starting to creep around the edges of the conversation. It's always there lurking, and probably always will be with them, but keeping it at bay can be a choice and not a chore. "Don't say that too loud, you'll jinx us."

She allows a chuckle at that, barely more than a snort and a quirk at the corner of her lips. It's a crooked kind of humor. "Maybe that's the trick. Everyone else talked about their plan too loud. Bad luck."

"Clearly." If only it really was that simple. But neither of them are ones to indulge an impossible fantasy too much, not even for the sake of a joke. "We'll have to learn sign language."

Natasha imagines they could come up with at least a few particular hand signs for the Atroma. The humor is thin, though, and she doesn't force it. This is good enough for the moment.

Instead she attempts silence for a moment, testing how comfortable it might be. And giving Barnes the time to settle.

It's only a moment.

Then she asks more quietly. "Are you settling in on the Starduck?"

A sign language for the Atroma would likely have some very unmistakable gestures, it's true. And it perhaps says something that they can both be thinking it without saying it aloud. He takes a moment to dwell on that idea before moving on; it doesn't have to be uncomfortable, but he also doesn't have to choose to directly face it right now.

Strange, to find a moment like that here — and with her — but not entirely unwelcome.

"It's a good ship," he says quietly. One of the smaller crews in the Fleet, from what he's learned, but it suits him just fine. "Everyone keeps to themselves."

"Vanquish is like that. Small crew. Quiet. We tend not to get under eachother's feet." Not as close and supportive as some other ships' crews, but they're there when you need. When the fleet comes under attach, for example. Unsurprisingly, Natasha likes the privacy and the room.

Though sometimes she wonders if she ought to do more now.

Not that she's been Captain all that long. "I used to visit on the regular when it was just Starstruck, but that's been a while. I don't know the current crew."

"I imagine it's not something that suits everyone." He thinks he can understand why she'd like it though, and it's not a bad thing — at least not for people like them, insomuch as they're alike.

He wouldn't say that he really knows the current crew either, but it's entirely by choice. "They seem like good people. Private."

"Probably they'd rather I didn't just stop in, in that case." And she doesn't intend to, though less for them and more because she doesn't intend to invade Barnes' space just yet. Maybe sometime in the future. Maybe she's introducing him to the idea that it might happen in the future.

But she'll wait until he invites her.

The first time.

"I can't presume to speak for them," he says carefully, "but the Starduck doesn't see many visitors. I think that we're all comfortable with that."

Which is definitely not an invitation. But it's also not a flat out refusal, which is at least something. Truly, the times that he's had to meet with people Bucky's preferred to keep it to the Iskaulit, neutral territory at least in theory.

"Though I suppose the future isn't always predictable based on the past."

"Of course not." About what she figured, really. Could be it was too soon to bring it up too.

She shrugs, not especially bothered.

"I wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable. Not everyone likes waking up to strange spies in their kitchen."

"They already have to wake up to this weird statue thing in there. Have to think about their poor hearts, they're only human." He pauses a moment, then shakes his head. He's not sure that they're all really human, but that's a minor detail in the long run. "Mostly, anyway."

Not that he doesn't appreciate how she's backed away from it. Bucky has no doubt that she could board the ship if she wanted. But he also gets the impression that her words ring true and she won't.

"Human enough." She flashes a restrained smile. She understands that kind of distinction well. But they don't have to be human, do they?

The smile fades a little, though her expression remains somewhat soft. For the time being, she has ever intention of respecting Barnes' boundaries. In a way, it's nice to see him setting them.

Not something he'd have much change for in the last fifty years.

"What's this about a statue?"

"Mmm." One doesn't need to be physically human, this place is certainly proving that. At this point he's mostly using human to refer to anyone in the Fleet who isn't one of the Atroma. It's a very broad definition.

He thinks she probably understands. And he's glad she's willing to the shift in conversation.

"It's this statue of a chicken." Yeah, he doesn't know either. "Named Billie, apparently. "

"Billie." Natasha repeat the name in a deadpan voice, one eyebrow kicking up. She's not sure she wants to know—and she doubts Barnes knows the answer, since he hasn't been in the fleet long and she doubts asking was ever a high priority. Most of his time here was on Marsiva at this point anyway.

On the other hand, it seems like a safe topic. What's more, it's a chicken statue named Billie. That earn a little curiosity. "That's a hell of a mascot."

He has no idea where either the statue or its name originated, or how it got on board the Starduck. And why a chicken statue, when a chicken isn't the fowl indicated in the ship's name. If it is even a chicken, and not something from another planet, another world, that just looks like a chicken. Whatever the case, meals are never taken alone because Billie is simply a constant of the ship's galley.

Well, it could be worse.

"I still haven't figured out how a chicken relates to the Starduck, but maybe I'm missing something." He shrugs. "Or maybe it's one of the great mysteries of the Fleet. But at least it doesn't look like it's judging what you put in your coffee."

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