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

Entry tags:

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

"Or of worse." He pauses, glancing at the other man. "Considering what our captors are apparently capable of doing." It's skirting the original direction of the question a little bit yes, but not meant in a malicious way. To him it is a legitimate concern: whatever their pasts or whatever their futures, they are somewhat in thrall to these Atroma now. Just the knowledge that these beings can pull pieces of their minds apart has him on edge, and has for a while.

But he does agree; it's likely better off not knowing. Omnipotence seems like one of those things that is both blessing and curse and he's pretty sure it's more the latter than the former.

His lips do quirk into something almost resembling a smile though. "I am an excuse. Or I can be, in certain ways, for certain things. It's convenient to some people." He's been convenient in a lot of ways for as long as he can remember: a convenient kill here and there, a convenient training tool for his indestructibility. A convenient experiment. So many conveniences that one more seems little enough of a burden. But never having been in this situation is something they share, at least in terms of what few similarities they apparently have. "If there was a rulebook, would you cater to it? Or would you do what you feel is right?"

Then again, he does have a unique viewpoint on life lived by the constraints of a book. And ten little words. He's not even really aware of his left hand curling into a fist at the thought, until one of the plates on the back of the palm catches against the leather at the inside of this glove and he has to force the digits to uncurl.

He shakes his head. "I don't need it." And it's true; he really doesn't. But he doesn't know if this other man will understand, and this is something, a small thing, that he is willing to explain. "I read it in a museum. It doesn't mean anything to me, doesn't belong to me. It seems pointless to take it from you for the sake of convenience."

That follow up question though has more of an impact than he'd anticipated. It's another decision he'll have to make, and he's sure it's another decision that other people will be all too willing to make for him. It makes his answer a little hesitant, and his caution likely shows clearly in the words. "I don't know. I haven't decided yet."

Bucky laughs softly, but it's in agreement, because - yeah. He has no idea what the Atroma are truly capable of, and he'd really rather not test it. He doesn't like being here, doesn't like the idea of all these people being kidnapped and watched. Just because he's willing to stay for now doesn't mean he's okay with the premise of it all, but that's not the important part right now.

He watches the other, though, eyes a little more narrowed, if only because, "It seems like making yourself into an excuse is just as bad as making yourself be friends with someone else. That's not fair to you. You're a person. Not an excuse." Maybe Bucky wants things for him, but he's never not considered this man in front of him - well, a man. He is, no matter what someone else - HYDRA - might have told him otherwise.

Although his lips twitch up at the question, because, "I dunno. Steve's less likely to follow the rules than I am, if you want that bit of information. But I couldn't say. I guess I'd have to read it, first, and decide if it was bullshit or not." Even if it wasn't... most things with Steve require throwing the rules out the window, even if they are perfectly good rules. So maybe he can't really pretend he'd plan on following much of said rulebook, if it even existed.

He wonders if that's what the other man is thinking about at all, when his fist clenches like that. Probably not - if he claims he doesn't remember Steve, then Bucky believes him. Which makes him wonder - and worry - about what else might have him so tense, but he's certainly learned through this conversation that it's not really his place to ask. It's hard, but he stays quiet, and focuses on the matter of a name instead.

He can't say he's not a little relieved, in a way, when the other says he doesn't want it. That Bucky can keep it. But even still, "It does belong to you," he says, quietly. "You have as much right to it as I do, whether you remember it or not - but if you don't want it, if that's your choice, then I'll keep it. And - thanks." He smiles a little more. "I am used to it, and I would like to keep it." Maybe that's important to say, too, just like he goes on: "If you want to know more about where it came from - you can ask me." He feels obligated to offer, like he needs this other Bucky, or whatever he wants to be called, to know that his family history isn't lost if he wants to know it. But Bucky can also accept, now, even if he doesn't like it, that the other man may never ask. He has to be okay with that - or, at least, he has to be okay enough with it to move on.

And as for the lack of alternative options, "I can't blame you - if someone asked me out of the blue what I wanted to be called, and I didn't already have a name I was used to, I don't think I'd know, either. Honestly, it sounds kind of daunting, to decide. Maybe I'm gettin' off easy."

Thankfully they don't need to discuss the Atroma. He's less than pleased with their actions but for now, as there is no apparent way to remove themselves from their influence, it simply must be endured. Keeping up at least the appearance of cooperation can only serve well in trying to figure out what their mysterious benefactors truly want from them.

"No. I am a weapon," he corrects. "I am learning how to be something else but above all, I am that. Anyone who forgets that is a fool, myself included." He's aware that he can be triggered, and that the Atroma may be able to do so. It's not a comfortable thought, but at least there seems to be enough muscle in the Fleet that he could be stopped, if it came to that.

He takes the information about rules solemnly though, storing it away because it doesn't make sense to him. For someone who doesn't follow rules, Steve had seemed pretty meek and subdued when they'd run into each other in the gym — if it is in fact the same Steve. There are contradictions there, another puzzle to figure out.

At least he has the chance to figure it out, instead of just carrying out orders he'd been given, then being wiped and doing it over again.

"No." The rebuttal is soft but insistent. "It's yours more than mine; it means more to you than to me. Keep it." The thanks feels a little awkward to accept but he is trying, at least. Social norms still aren't his strong suit. "And I will consider your offer." It's not something he'd ever expected, to be able to hold something that may have once been his own — something he may never recover on his own. It hasn't escaped him that the pursuit of his memories may in fact be entirely in vain. He wants it, but wanting things has rarely turned out well for him. It's going to take more than a little consideration, pulling the offer apart to examine it from several angles. He recognizes that the behavior isn't normal, but for him it's very much a necessity.

"I have designations," he says quietly. "Things I was called. They belong to me more than that name. But I have to think about what I would use."

"Technically," Bucky says, because he can't help it, "you're a person with skills that make him dangerous." That's the point, right? That he's a person - who's maybe used to being treated like a thing, but if he continues to think of himself that way, Bucky doesn't see it getting any better.

Then again, Bucky is definitely not the expert on any of this.

He nods, though, because an I'll consider your offer seems like the best he's ever going to get out of this guy, and, "Good. Please do." He pauses, and then adds, quietly, "I do want to help you. I know it's up to you, to determine whether you want what I'm offering. I will do my best to respect that. But I've been through a little of what you've been through, even if I can't pretend it's anything more than a shadow." Bucky was a prisoner at Azzano, and he was pumped full of drugs - of Schmidt's knock-off serum - against his will. It's small and pathetic, compared to what he knows the Winter Soldier has been through, but maybe it gives him enough of an understanding - and more of one that Steve has ever had. Thank God. "You can talk to me. If you want to. But I'll stop offering, because now you know.

"And when you figure out what you want to be called - let me know, and I promise I'll use that." Even if it's hard. He can't bring himself to really push this guy any more than he can push Steve. God, it's such a mess, and it's a mess you can't make better with one single offer to listen, but it's all he's got.

"Technically," he says, voice devoid of emotion in order to drive the point home, "I am very, very dangerous. And the Atroma can let that loose." He lives with the knowledge every day, lives with knowing that though he's committed himself to ensuring the safety of those on his ship, he could tear through the Starduck's crew in a matter of minutes. "Whatever else I am, or could want to be, needs to come second to that knowledge."

In his mind it's the most important thing about his existence, because it is the one thing that could change everything in a matter of heartbeats.

He shakes his head, holding up a hand to forestall any more elaboration on the offer. He does believe it will be dropped if he asks — he's not sure why he believes that, if the belief rides on the shoulders of his own stubbornness or his counterpart's — but he also has a feeling that the offers might keep coming if he doesn't cut them off here. "I don't trust having a conversation like that in a place I don't feel is secure. Planets are a better choice than the vehicles of the Fleet, but—" he gestures around them; no one is near but there are ample places for listening or recording devices, to say nothing of items that could do the same from a distance. He doesn't trust it. "There is too much opportunity in this location. I don't like it." It probably speaks volumes that his primary expressed concern relates to the kinds of covert activities he's performed on missions. His other concerns he'll keep private to himself.

"If you have need of an immediate designation, I have been called Soldier. Soldat, actually; the Russian was the most common." He shrugs. "It is not a name, but it is serviceable enough in the interim."

That... is a point maybe Bucky hadn't considered. And now he definitely can't unconsider that. "You think they'd do that?" he asks, very seriously, almost on high alert at the idea. He doesn't know how they could do that - he doesn't know enough about this man - but if he's concerned... then Bucky most certainly, is, too.

And given that possibility - and many others - it makes sense, to be wary of being overheard. Bucky knows why they're here, and you sure as shit can't have reality TV without the TV part of it. "I understand," he says - because he does. He gets that, too. Sometimes it pays to be the guy who thinks of all the possible ways things can go wrong - and it usually pays to appreciate that guy, too.

As for the name... To be honest, Bucky maybe inwardly cringes a little. Because it isn't really a name at all. But he had asked the question, and it's his own problem if he doesn't like the answer. That's definitely what he's walking away from this conversation with. "Soldat, then," he says, trying it out; it feels thick and foreign and cold on his tongue, but he nods. "All right. I'll use that."

"Were you on the Marsiva when our hosts were pulling apart people's thoughts for fun? It's clear that they can get in our heads." He pauses, because he has had a chance to think about this in the wake of what he'd seen on that ship and the reality of the existence of this other Bucky. His expression twists a little bit. "It's also clear that they can bring anyone here they want, other versions of selves. More whole versions of selves. What use, what true use am I, that you are not? I believe they do plan on unleashing that when it becomes convenient for them."

He looks away, attention drawn by movement but it's just a normal squirrel (if it's normal for squirrels to have six legs); his attention returns to his companion soon enough. "I will ask. At some point." Once he'd figured out some of his own thoughts around the possibility.

"I know it's not a name." He knows too there might be those who are less than pleased by it. "никто would be more accurate a designation. But I don't imagine you'd like that."

"If you mean calibrations - then yes." And just because Bucky got out of having anyone in his head doesn't mean he wasn't exposed to it. He knows what it was like for other people, and he gets the other's point. It's clear that the Atroma can get in their heads - and just like what happened with Loki, it settles very, very poorly in Bucky's gut.

Still, he frowns - "Honestly? I think I'm the one here to shake things up. Not you." There are more people from his counterpart's universe, after all. Bucky - and now his Steve - are the only two from theirs. If anything, they're probably here to cause confusion, to make things complicated. But he can still see the concern. Anything that has the potential for drama might be useful, and a mass murderer? Could definitely cause some drama. "Steve said people don't stay dead," he says carefully. "That the Atroma bring them back. But I guess that doesn't mean hurting people won't still make good reality TV."

Basically - he gets it. He understands the concern, and all he can say, really, is, "I hope it's never convenient."

And as for the name - or lack thereof - the look on his face is clear enough. "No. I don't like it," he says, quietly, evenly. "If you don't mind, I'll stick with Soldat."

“That is their word for it.” He doesn’t know that he likes the word, but it is at least the common designation, and the other man knows to what he refers. It prevents rehashing that whole uncomfortable time, and underlines that the decision to spend the bulk of his time in solitude was in fact the correct one, he can’t help how his expression twists at the next thought. Haven’t their hosts shaken things up enough just by creating this place? What true news is there for more drama?

Right. Ratings.

“What a unique hell that is!” The bitterness is clear in his voice. “The ability to unleash a murderer, and bring back all his victims! To make everyone live out that hell, and remember every minute of it!” His hand curls into a fist again the leather of the glove stretched over it creaks and threatens to tear with the violence of the motion. “I’m sure the ratings would be off the charts.”

He looks away, because he has thought about it more frequently than perhaps he should. “I think it’s more a matter of time.”

He shrugs, gaze returning to the other man. He knew that his counterpart wouldn’t like it. But he claims no responsibility over the likes or dislikes of others. “As you like.” At least he’s confirmed that the chips in their heads do translate, with what he’s assuming is a modicum of accuracy.

Everything's always a popularity contest, isn't it.

Well. Almost everything. Sometimes they're just bloodbaths. Audiences seem to love those, too.

Bucky's quiet for a long moment after that, if only because - yeah. Yeah, it sounds fucking awful, to know you're capable of something terrible, and to not want to do it, to be dead-set against it - and to know that someone can make you do it, anyway. He gets, maybe a little, why forming connections under those conditions is... hard. Unappealing. "Is there anything I can do?" he asks, quietly, again - knowing they're being watched, but there's still just only so much you can do. "Do you have a plan in place? You don't have to tell me what it is - hell, you don't have to tell me yes or no. But if you needed an extra set of enhanced hands... I've got 'em."

Again - it's probably an empty offer. Soldat doesn't have any reason to trust him. But Bucky is Captain America, and he's also - well, he's not the same, but he maybe started out the same as the man in front of him now - and he has to at least offer. That's what you do. He cares.

He's not really expecting the offer, not after the silence. It's certainly not something he'd said for shock value, or anything as stupid as that. It's reality in how he lives it, how he has to view every day. It's why he's glad the Starduck has such a small crew; he'd tear through them like nothing, but it would be a minimal loss of life compared to unleashing him on the rest of the Fleet.

"Shoot to kill. That's what you can do." The words are dispassionate, but not because he doesn't care. It's because he knows how people will hesitate, will try to find any other way. He's taken advantage of that kind of hesitation more than once himself, and knows how deadly he can be. "The head, the heart, or the right lung. Those are your best options."

It's probably not something he should do, give away such information, but those are standard weaknesses he thinks. Normal areas to shoot, when looking to kill a person. Though he supposes as well that there's also the option of just destroying the Starduck, if he was still on it; it would be quick, efficient. Easy. Likely easier than looking straight at the man one is about to shoot.

"Okay," Bucky says, quietly, nodding because they are pretty standard weaknesses. And he has looked straight at a lot of men and shot them, and he can do it again if he has to. He'd done a lot of it for Steve. He has a feeling he'd be doing this for Steve, too, because - no. Steve wouldn't be able to do something like that.

But Bucky thinks he probably can.

"In case you don't remember, or haven't been told," he adds, with just a hint of dry humor, but not much, and certainly not at the other's expense - more at the fucking universe in general, "I was a sniper in the war. It's not something I forgot how to do."

"So am I," he replies quietly. It's just one of the skills in which he's proficient, just one of the ways he knows how to kill. "But I don't need distance to ensure that you wouldn't see me coming."

It's certainly not meant as a threat, but more of a warning. Whether or not the other man heeds it, he supposes he'll see in time. There's no doubt at all in him that he'll be triggered; it's the only thing that makes sense about his presence here. Why would the Atroma care to bring someone as broken as he into their show, save as a time bomb?

Bucky just nods - that tells him something. A lot of somethings. "I understand."

And while he can't guarantee he's impossible to get the drop on - nobody is - he can be wary. He's better at it than Steve, and that's always been true. "That's why you let more than one person know," he says. "Plans with one person tend to fall apart a lot faster."

Steve never could quite learn that either - or at least live by it. But this is important. "I'll do what I can," he promises, because if their positions were reversed, he'd want the same.

He doesn't make any comment to that statement. No one can really understand, not in the visceral way of identifying at least ten ways to eliminate every occupant of a room on walking into it. It's a skill and a life and a lifestyle that defies good explanation to those who haven't lived it. But, he supposes, he shouldn't discount this man entirely. He does hold himself with the easy posture of a soldier, and there is something of skill there. He's not one who should be entirely underestimated.

"There are others who know what I can do." Still it might not be amiss to have the conversation with another person. He doesn't imagine it will be pleasant — how can it be when he's essentially asking someone to kill him — but he thinks there are two people who would understand the necessity thereof. He's just not sure either of them would be able to physically stop him were he to be let truly loose. Still, this man doesn't need to know of those misgivings. "And who would not hesitate."

Cold blooded murder is a skill, after all, for all that no one seems to like thinking of it in those terms.

"As long as you understand the mission objective wouldn't be rescue, it would be take down. Because I can guarantee you there would be nothing left to rescue."

"I think you would know that, better than anyone," Bucky concedes, because... yeah. He would. There's no substitute for experiencing that from the inside, and if this man says there's no hope for rescue, then Bucky will take him at his word.

He very much doubts Steve ever could. He... very much doubts that if his Steve stood here, asking Bucky to kill him, that Bucky could pull that trigger, either. He doesn't even want to think about it, though, because part of him thinks... maybe he could. Maybe he could do it, and God knows, he might come close. But the very thought scares him, and brings him right back around to the here and now, where maybe having your own not-quite-a-twin is useful for something, after all.

And he's always been more willing to sacrifice himself before Steve.

"Not a rescue mission, then. That's fine. Those've never been my forte," Bucky says, trying to inject a little levity, but overall pretty serious. It's true - rescue's more Steve's thing. Bucky's is... different. "I hope it never comes to that. But you're right - if the Atroma decide they want a good show... they know where to get one, and that's shitty. Shittier for you than anyone else, but you work with what you've got."

And until then, "I'll try'n steer clear," he promises. "But I ain't gonna ignore you if we run into each other. That's not what, uh, acquaintances do. I think we can at least be that?"

His short time in the Fleet, what he's been able to discover thus far, points to the fact that being able to pull a trigger with no remorse could be a very useful skill. But it's certainly not a skill that everyone possesses, so he just shrugs. It's probably clear enough that, triggered or not, he is not the type of person who would hesitate. That's not something most people like to consider.

"As long as we're on the same page." It should be a chilling thought, knowing that if he's triggered while on his ship, the likelihood of any of the crew surviving it is zero. But he knows he can't let himself get lost in that possibility, in those thoughts; it's a dangerous path to tread. The reality is that the Atroma might not do anything; he might never experience the sensation of being triggered. But he also might, and for that he can't help but consider the consequences.

That his current companion thinks it shitty though, that's unexpected. And as he's not quite sure what to do with it, he leaves the statement alone. There's far too much to unpack there.

"It's not my place to tell you what you can and can't do." He gets enough of it himself, friendly suggestions for who and how he should be. He knows they're meant (mostly) in good faith. That doesn't change the fact that they're annoying and best and insulting at worst and as as result he's rather determinedly opposed to imposing upon another. "But I won't go out of my way for the sake of avoidance, if that's what you're asking."

Bucky snorts. "No, but you can sure have an opinion about it," he points out. "It seems like... you're not really used to that, though - at least, on behalf of other people." Because Soldat has plenty of opinions about what he wants, but he's very closed-lipped about what he wants other people to do.

It makes sense, Bucky figures - autonomy is important. Still, if he cares whether someone else does something or not, Bucky wants him to be able to say it. "I can at least take things under advisement," he murmurs, maybe a little bit as a tease, but also completely serious. And either way, "But that's good to know. Avoiding each other might get more awkward than the alternative. It'll be nicer not to have to try."

But he's taken up enough of the other's time, he figures. Especially now that he knows what the other does and doesn't want from him - more of the latter than the former, admittedly. "I'll let you get back to your shopping," Bucky says, not wanting to overstay what little welcome with the guy he might have had. "But - take care of yourself, all right?"

He even offers a little - definitely non-regulation - salute. "I'll seeya around."

"Or I value my privacy, and that extends to the keeping of my opinions to myself as well." Privacy is a touchy subject indeed, considering the recent Calibrations, and he thinks it likely that he's not the only one feeling prickly where it's concerned. The reality of things is that there's a whole slew of ways in which the Atroma have made their lives less private, and seemingly the only way of ensuring anything at all of privacy is to keep all of one's thoughts and emotions internalized.

"It's a large enough Fleet," he says simply. Not infinite of course but with the various ships he thinks it's entirely possible for two people to not have to run into each other. "But it does occur to me that if we encounter an area where infiltration is necessary, having what amounts to a body double could prove useful."

(A normal person would just admit that future cooperation is not out of the realm of possibility, but normal likely isn't happening any time soon.)

But he does both respect and appreciate that their interaction seems coming to a close; he does have a mental list of items he wants to try to find, and their time on the planets is never unlimited. He's starting to doubt that he'll really be able to obtain what he wants here, but settling for close enough until they get to the next star system is just how things will have to be. It could be much worse after all. "Watch your back as well. I don't trust anything in this place."

"That might be taking it a little far," Bucky observes mildly, but... it's not meant as an insult. Just a thoughtful observation, because, "You can be private, but if you don't tell anybody anything... it gets a little hard. For you, and for them."

But he can only offer advice. He can't tell this guy how to recover. Who to be. He's definitely gotten that one through his thick head.

He does have to laugh a little, though, because - "Yeah, I guess it would be useful, huh? I'm your guy, if you need one." He could probably slick back his hair, put it under a cap, get a glove, do a good enough job of pretending to be just a little bulkier, and definitely more sullen. He doesn't yet know if they'll ever have to use a tactic like that, but - well, clearly the unexpected happens on a pretty regular basis around here. It's not outside the realm of possibility.

But either way, it's not necessary today. "I will," he promises quietly. "I honestly don't, either. I don't plan on getting more comfortable than I have to."

They'll just have to agree to disagree on this particular point, but it seems to him that at least they understand each other a little more. It's not going to change his viewpoint any time soon, but that's beside the point.

And there's still the fact that there's no direct reasoning why the Atroma had brought either of them here, never mind both of them. Theories are nothing more than theories. But at least there's knowing they might find each other useful in a teamwork situation. While all the planets he's seen thus far have been peaceful, that doesn't mean there's not something more sinister in their future. After all, it'd make the ratings soar.

"That's at least one thing on which we agree." He takes a few steps away from the other man, because their conversation seems to be closing. He will pause though, just to see if there's anything in follow up before they truly part ways.

There's a lot that they don't know about the situation. Whatever reason both of them are here - and Bucky doesn't doubt there's a reason - neither of them have control over it. But they do have control over how they handle it from here, and he's glad to know it can at least be civil. Maybe he can't help in the way he wanted, but... maybe that was never his decision to make, in the first place. He can be disappointed, but he can get over it. He will get over it, because this other man doesn't deserve to have someone in his face over things he doesn't want to change. Those are his choices, and Bucky will do his best to respect them. Hopefully he won't slip up too much.

"Seems like a good thing to agree on," he murmurs, and takes a breath, letting it out slowly as he glances around. He's said what he wanted to say, and taken up enough of the other's time. "Take care," he says, and offers a little salute, before turning to make his own way back down the street. "You know where to find me if you do need me."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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

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