The mail's been pretty unreliable for a while, like, they try to get messages through, but with everything the way it is—
[ The line slipping forward and back as they won and lost ground, temporary outposts being set up and then collapsing, taking refuge in little Italian towns and then moving onwards, mail carriers trying to get their deliveries through without losing them across hundreds of miles of mud and wire. There really wasn't much stability in their lives. Those little letters from home are a lifeline for these men, signed with a kiss or a photograph from sweethearts in hometowns. Bucky had gotten one from his sister in Indiana; had double-checked the envelope at the time, half-hoping but not expecting a second one from Stephanie. Having her inexplicably here in person, though, is a far better alternative.
Peering around the tent, he surveys the relative luxury that they've set her up in, better than what the other girls have had to share and make do with. There's the trove of makeup, tubes of lipstick scattered like bullets across the tabletop, stacks of signed Liberty Belle prints, some stockings draped over the back of the chair—
Blushing slightly, Bucky's gaze snaps back to hers. There's still open curiosity on his face, and a bit of confusion. Because now, standing so much closer to her than when he'd seen her on stage, there's really no hiding it. Out there, maybe he could've convinced himself that it was makeup and heels and wires, stagecraft like an elaborate magic trick. But. He'd felt Steph's body under his hands when she'd hugged him. You couldn't fake that. ]
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[ The line slipping forward and back as they won and lost ground, temporary outposts being set up and then collapsing, taking refuge in little Italian towns and then moving onwards, mail carriers trying to get their deliveries through without losing them across hundreds of miles of mud and wire. There really wasn't much stability in their lives. Those little letters from home are a lifeline for these men, signed with a kiss or a photograph from sweethearts in hometowns. Bucky had gotten one from his sister in Indiana; had double-checked the envelope at the time, half-hoping but not expecting a second one from Stephanie. Having her inexplicably here in person, though, is a far better alternative.
Peering around the tent, he surveys the relative luxury that they've set her up in, better than what the other girls have had to share and make do with. There's the trove of makeup, tubes of lipstick scattered like bullets across the tabletop, stacks of signed Liberty Belle prints, some stockings draped over the back of the chair—
Blushing slightly, Bucky's gaze snaps back to hers. There's still open curiosity on his face, and a bit of confusion. Because now, standing so much closer to her than when he'd seen her on stage, there's really no hiding it. Out there, maybe he could've convinced himself that it was makeup and heels and wires, stagecraft like an elaborate magic trick. But. He'd felt Steph's body under his hands when she'd hugged him. You couldn't fake that. ]
C'mon, Steph. Whatever it is, you can tell me.