( bucky's gaze drifts over her shoulder to glance over their surroundings. much like before, her place is cluttered, but— that just makes it homey, comfortable, lived-in. even the scented candle elevates the space and makes it even nicer, more sophisticated. jesus, he really needs to do something about his own apartment.
he flourishes the bottle. )
Does it get the stamp of approval? Might be cheating since I can't really get drunk easily, but I'll drink faster to stay even.
( a flash of a slightly strained smile. it had felt wrong not addressing it; he didn't want to get karen drunk while he stayed clear-headed and sober. and he doesn't really know how to greet her — they're past handshakes but not yet at a kiss to the cheek — so instead he just presses the bottle into her hands and follows the tip of her head into the room, continuing past her and then gazing around him with that watchful stare.
he'd taken it in last time, so now he automatically notes the small details that have changed in the interim. a houseplant that changed location; a stack of books that had shrunk; a new scattering of paperwork on the dining table like a patch of growing weeds. the hour is late enough that they're already past dinnertime, now into those strange hours where there's only a select few reasons to invite a man over, but his insomniac schedule's already so fucked that he can't really tell. his nights are measured out in so many lonely hours beyond the time when people have already turned in.
he's standing a little awkwardly in the center of the room, hands plunged into the pockets of his jacket. there's a rip in the hardy leather which she'll recognise; it matches the wound in his side, now long-since-healed over. )
no subject
( bucky's gaze drifts over her shoulder to glance over their surroundings. much like before, her place is cluttered, but— that just makes it homey, comfortable, lived-in. even the scented candle elevates the space and makes it even nicer, more sophisticated. jesus, he really needs to do something about his own apartment.
he flourishes the bottle. )
Does it get the stamp of approval? Might be cheating since I can't really get drunk easily, but I'll drink faster to stay even.
( a flash of a slightly strained smile. it had felt wrong not addressing it; he didn't want to get karen drunk while he stayed clear-headed and sober. and he doesn't really know how to greet her — they're past handshakes but not yet at a kiss to the cheek — so instead he just presses the bottle into her hands and follows the tip of her head into the room, continuing past her and then gazing around him with that watchful stare.
he'd taken it in last time, so now he automatically notes the small details that have changed in the interim. a houseplant that changed location; a stack of books that had shrunk; a new scattering of paperwork on the dining table like a patch of growing weeds. the hour is late enough that they're already past dinnertime, now into those strange hours where there's only a select few reasons to invite a man over, but his insomniac schedule's already so fucked that he can't really tell. his nights are measured out in so many lonely hours beyond the time when people have already turned in.
he's standing a little awkwardly in the center of the room, hands plunged into the pockets of his jacket. there's a rip in the hardy leather which she'll recognise; it matches the wound in his side, now long-since-healed over. )
Were you working?