Bucky's so intent on navigating his way through that his sharp reflexes--honed by training and endless war and even more endless blood, honed by the Red Room and the serum in him--utterly fails him.
He doesn't see the dainty-in-boots foot nor could he properly catch himself on his hands when he fell because of the snow. With that, he fell face-forward into the cold, sinking among water crystals. (Ironic...)
This time he doesn't bother censoring the thought and just spouts in English (again) "what the fuck!" while spitting out clumps of snow and brushing them off his face. He glares up at her while scrambling to his feet, so caught off-guard and irritated that he could make such a fool of himself.
In this village, no less; he refuses to look up and shoot daggers at whoever might be watching. Snow still clumps to his longish hair - he's a real sight for sore eyes that need some laughter.
"Really cute." He grumbles, then slides back into Russian without batting an eye.
"So if I'm not a lumberjack, and I'm not military, what exactly do you think I am?"
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19/9/15 05:42 (UTC)He doesn't see the dainty-in-boots foot nor could he properly catch himself on his hands when he fell because of the snow. With that, he fell face-forward into the cold, sinking among water crystals. (Ironic...)
This time he doesn't bother censoring the thought and just spouts in English (again) "what the fuck!" while spitting out clumps of snow and brushing them off his face. He glares up at her while scrambling to his feet, so caught off-guard and irritated that he could make such a fool of himself.
In this village, no less; he refuses to look up and shoot daggers at whoever might be watching. Snow still clumps to his longish hair - he's a real sight for sore eyes that need some laughter.
"Really cute." He grumbles, then slides back into Russian without batting an eye.
"So if I'm not a lumberjack, and I'm not military, what exactly do you think I am?"