[ It's not the simple glass carafe he's used to, but he finds a complicated-looking coffee machine bolted into place in the kitchen — smart, when it's a plane that might wind up dipping and turning or jolting around during turbulence — and he eventually puzzles through the buttons enough to get some piping hot black coffee out of it and into two SHIELD-branded mugs. Bucky pours in the sugar, stirs the coffee, and then makes his way back, eventually slipping into Daisy's quarters and nudging the door shut again behind him. There was a bottle of painkillers sitting on a shelf right outside (a gift from the doctor, maybe), and so he brings that with him, too.
The man settles down on the edge of Daisy's bed, his weight sinking the mattress beside her, and he gently lobs the painkillers at her, then holds out the hot mug, his metal fingers gripping the edges so he can offer her the handle without minding the burning heat. Bemused: ]
Exactly three sugar packets?
[ He's restless this morning, but there's also a fondness in his gaze when he looks at Daisy, sitting back down on that cramped bed next to her. ]
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The man settles down on the edge of Daisy's bed, his weight sinking the mattress beside her, and he gently lobs the painkillers at her, then holds out the hot mug, his metal fingers gripping the edges so he can offer her the handle without minding the burning heat. Bemused: ]
Exactly three sugar packets?
[ He's restless this morning, but there's also a fondness in his gaze when he looks at Daisy, sitting back down on that cramped bed next to her. ]