[ She nods along as he talks, words bubbling up inside her the way they haven't in so long; chatting with the other dancers has a different quality to it than conversations with Bucky ever did. With the other girls, she's much more aware of the fact that she's different than them, that while they've all seen each other naked and helped each other dress and checked to make sure nothing was showing where it shouldn't, they still hold her apart from them just a little, just enough that she's always aware that she should probably hold her tongue and not let loose with the sharp truth of her opinions. ]

I guess you didn't get the one I sent last month? [ She hadn't really expected a response, but she figures he would have made an effort. Bucky was always good about that sort of thing. ] I was gonna write you another tonight, but I guess now I don't have to.

[ Her tent really isn't much to write home about, but she's got her own cot and a little folding desk and chair, squeezed in beside her trunk with all her clothes and costumes stuffed inside. It seems whatever she went through to get her body to change so drastically, it didn't change the fact that she's far messier than she'd like to be, distracted so often by her thoughts and everything she has to do that she forgets to tidy up unless she has to. Or unless someone's around to nag her into doing it.

Ever since Bucky left her, her life's been lacking in many different ways.

Chewing on her lip for a little bit longer, she stares up at him like she's memorizing his face before taking a breath and letting it out with a little huff of a sigh, no hitch or rattle or any of the other symptoms in that breath like she used to battle every day. ]

I volunteered.