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When it gets inside; [open]
CHARACTERS: Bucky and whoever
WHERE: The Bearings
WHEN: Day :012-:014
SUMMARY: Bucky is back at the Bearings after a bit of an absence.
WARNINGS: Probably mentions of death, gore, violence, etc.
{ A :011 late/:012 early } [closed to Steve Rogers]
[Bucky's back! Almost immediately upon setting foot back in the Bearings, he makes a beeline for one of the rooms farthest from the common room. He's come in lugging a backpack over one shoulder, with a metal arm half-sticking out the top, and looks a little like a sewer rat dragged through a gutter or two. His brain sounds much the same. As soon as he's cleared the threshold of his room, he snaps the door closed and locks it less than a heartbeat later.
An hour allows him to take a quick shower and calm his head enough to attempt sleeping. However, the bed is entirely too soft after so many days curled up on the floor (and eventually a mat). He can't close his eyes for longer than a handful of heartbeats.
One by one, he's stealing the cushions from one of the couches in the common room in multiple trips a few minutes apart.]
-
{ B :012 - :014 } [open to all!]
[The first couple days, Bucky makes himself scarce. Though he doesn't ever leave the Bearings, he's not exactly a stable fixture in the common room. Occasionally, he collects some food to eat from kitchen or ventures out to grab a book. When he does make a prolonged appearance, he's settled at one of the tables, alternately writing in a small notebook weighted down by a coaster and tracing the textures on said coaster. From time to time, he doesn't do either and simply stares off into the distance, brows furrowed, only to furiously scratch more words into the page when he comes back to himself.
On the rare occasion, a heavy steel arm will sit beside him at the table.
His head hums slowly, not nearly as active and loud as his initial arrival, not so cluttered. Static simmers at the edges of his senses, threatening to boil over, but Bucky is at least trying not to broadcast everything everywhere.]
WHERE: The Bearings
WHEN: Day :012-:014
SUMMARY: Bucky is back at the Bearings after a bit of an absence.
WARNINGS: Probably mentions of death, gore, violence, etc.
{ A :011 late/:012 early } [closed to Steve Rogers]
[Bucky's back! Almost immediately upon setting foot back in the Bearings, he makes a beeline for one of the rooms farthest from the common room. He's come in lugging a backpack over one shoulder, with a metal arm half-sticking out the top, and looks a little like a sewer rat dragged through a gutter or two. His brain sounds much the same. As soon as he's cleared the threshold of his room, he snaps the door closed and locks it less than a heartbeat later.
An hour allows him to take a quick shower and calm his head enough to attempt sleeping. However, the bed is entirely too soft after so many days curled up on the floor (and eventually a mat). He can't close his eyes for longer than a handful of heartbeats.
One by one, he's stealing the cushions from one of the couches in the common room in multiple trips a few minutes apart.]
-
{ B :012 - :014 } [open to all!]
[The first couple days, Bucky makes himself scarce. Though he doesn't ever leave the Bearings, he's not exactly a stable fixture in the common room. Occasionally, he collects some food to eat from kitchen or ventures out to grab a book. When he does make a prolonged appearance, he's settled at one of the tables, alternately writing in a small notebook weighted down by a coaster and tracing the textures on said coaster. From time to time, he doesn't do either and simply stares off into the distance, brows furrowed, only to furiously scratch more words into the page when he comes back to himself.
On the rare occasion, a heavy steel arm will sit beside him at the table.
His head hums slowly, not nearly as active and loud as his initial arrival, not so cluttered. Static simmers at the edges of his senses, threatening to boil over, but Bucky is at least trying not to broadcast everything everywhere.]
no subject
And then he's just glaring at the sauce packet, clearly still healthy enough to complain about something. ]
Oh my God. That is not hot sauce. It's like teriyaki and ranch had a baby. Why does that even exist?
no subject
Maybe not poison after all.] You okay?
no subject
[ He's still got that look on his face like he just swallowed a bug, but he's well enough to energetically complain, so it can't be too bad. ]
That was disgusting.
no subject
[Bucky would advise not eating any food that he doesn't know all the ingredients in, but he doesn't make the rules here.]
no subject
[ Skipping out on them entirely would probably be easy, really. There are a lot of places to eat out there, and the budget for this mission, whatever it is, seems to be enough that he doesn't need to worry about breaking the bank.
But if this is what passes for edible around here, he's got some deep questions about the Concordian palate. ]
no subject
I could make something. [Burned water. Dried noodles.]
no subject
[ Sampling the local color was supposed to be one of those things you did while you were traveling somewhere new and exotic, right?
Of course, if local tastes run to some horrible teriyaki-ranch chimera of burned taste buds, he's gonna get over that quickly enough. ]
no subject
I saw some noodles in the pantry. [Excitement Central.]
no subject
[ He glances at the not-sauce pocket and visibly shudders. ]
Possibly more help than this place can provide.
no subject
clearly poisonedtaco sit.]no subject
[ He's pretty sure they'd be okay without The Sauce That Heaven Forsook, but he's just going to have to pay the price for dumping it all over without trying it first, apparently. ]