[Bucky bristles a little at the remark about the cold but a frown pulls at a corner of his mouth when this kid’s words about being free and not taking orders strike a little too true to Bucky. He’s interrupted in his thoughts and struck mostly dumbfounded by Kira’s next actions of leaving??? (does not compute?) and stares after him, mouth hanging open a moment before he hobbles his own way to the bathroom, wincing with every breath, before his opponent’s mind changes.]
Uh...I guess I owe you thanks for rethinking that blood loss thing.
[He says as he rummages through a pile of gauze and tape. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and cringes at the messiness of his work. Still, it makes him feel a little...different. Not hopeful, but something. It means he’s regaining some semblance of humanit--... it still feels too foreign to say or even think, so he stows it away. Maybe later.
It brings Kira’s words back to mind, though. More Russian curses slip from him in a low mutter as he peels off his bloodstained shirt carefully from the wound. He tries to keep the pain from his voice as he begins the rinsing process and he speaks to Kira again. He’s not sure why he does the latter, except that it’s kind of awkward now that the guy’s letting him live and all. He might as well find out what he can.]
What’s it like, going through life without orders? Can’t say you seem too thrilled in general, man.
[It’s weird, speaking so colloquially, a little more familiarly, for the first time--no, again?, the lilt of the words carrying through him easily as if it were an old song he remembered years later.]
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3/6/14 04:48 (UTC)Uh...I guess I owe you thanks for rethinking that blood loss thing.
[He says as he rummages through a pile of gauze and tape. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and cringes at the messiness of his work. Still, it makes him feel a little...different. Not hopeful, but something. It means he’s regaining some semblance of humanit--... it still feels too foreign to say or even think, so he stows it away. Maybe later.
It brings Kira’s words back to mind, though. More Russian curses slip from him in a low mutter as he peels off his bloodstained shirt carefully from the wound. He tries to keep the pain from his voice as he begins the rinsing process and he speaks to Kira again. He’s not sure why he does the latter, except that it’s kind of awkward now that the guy’s letting him live and all. He might as well find out what he can.]
What’s it like, going through life without orders? Can’t say you seem too thrilled in general, man.
[It’s weird, speaking so colloquially, a little more familiarly, for the first time--no, again?, the lilt of the words carrying through him easily as if it were an old song he remembered years later.]