days of future past the ring of my asshole

[chopshopsuplex]

So she's learning Russian. So one of her...partners has been schooling her in the 'proper ways of the Russian'-- so what? It's still cold as hell, in the heart of the matter let alone the weather, and the only great thing they've got going for them in this area is the vodka.

And even that's starting to run out. Grease, grit, car parts scalped out in her bare hands? Fine. Running, fighting for her life, coding messages? That's what she signed up for.

"I did not sign up for camping," Gaby mutters to herself, goggle covered browns taking in the scene, the expanse of white that surrounds her, nearly blinds her.

It isn't camping so much as....rugged wild backpacking this time. Now, yes, maybe she'd gotten a little caught up in the riches and class and luxury of a spy's life but this is a rude wake up call.

If she could just get to the village she's supposed to find, then all would be well and her nose and toes and everything inbetween can warm up.

Up ahead, she spots the bumbling form of a man easily cutting through the snow.

"Ah, excuse me!" Gaby calls in her cobbled together Russian. "Can you help me get to the next village? I believe I might be lost." Funny enough, she won't have to play too hard at being the lost tourist this time around.

(No harder than with their target in the coming mission)

Comments

beautiful fuckin title

[sillaged]

What did the person behind him just call him? Potato fucker?

Bucky sighs, pauses to turn, and spots what looks like a woman walking to him - though it’s hard to tell in the blinding whiteness of the snow blanketing everything around them and her winter gear. Huh. What interest would someone like her have in tracking down an isolated village in Mother Russia? Hasn’t anyone learned that surviving this kind of winter isn’t a promise?

Well, she’ll learn soon enough - he certainly did. It explains the mix-up of the words unfamiliar to her tongue too.

So Bucky can’t be too bothered, the assassin squinting to take in more of this other person heading in the same general direction that he is. He pulls the mask covering half his face down to gruffly shout back,

“Guess I can take a detour, but you better keep up.”

He has his own mission to focus on, one of many that keeps him occupied. Still he remains on his guard, hand comfortably settling on his sidearm nestled in thigh holster beneath an inconspicuous overcoat. Threats come in all shapes and sizes. Not today, Satan. Not today.