[ Trying to reconcile what's wrong about Bucky's appearance is one thing.
Hearing his voice is a punch to the gut.
He's frozen in place again, caught between an a deep impulse to press and demand answers, and the horrible sense that doing so will tip this all the wrong way. All this time he hasn't stopped searching his friend's face, as if clarity can somehow come from that alone. The shift in Bucky's body language as he approaches doesn't go unnoticed.
Silence stretches between them, until he finally works a response from his throat. ]
Okay. [ Forced from his throat, not the answer he wants to give. We can talk later, seems to follow, unspoken. He still can't tear his gaze away, expression tight. ] There's rooms for us - you can sit. Or lie down.
[ It won't shut out the noise in his head, but it's better than sitting in the middle of the common area like this. ]
no subject
Hearing his voice is a punch to the gut.
He's frozen in place again, caught between an a deep impulse to press and demand answers, and the horrible sense that doing so will tip this all the wrong way. All this time he hasn't stopped searching his friend's face, as if clarity can somehow come from that alone. The shift in Bucky's body language as he approaches doesn't go unnoticed.
Silence stretches between them, until he finally works a response from his throat. ]
Okay. [ Forced from his throat, not the answer he wants to give. We can talk later, seems to follow, unspoken. He still can't tear his gaze away, expression tight. ] There's rooms for us - you can sit. Or lie down.
[ It won't shut out the noise in his head, but it's better than sitting in the middle of the common area like this. ]