There’s a complicated crack-fizzle-pop of undefinable emotions once the other man comes into view and sits down. The strange surreal familiarity of that voice, worn into his bones even though he couldn’t have told you Steve Rogers’ name just a few months ago. The other faint unfamiliarity that he can’t place— (The weight settling on the bench should be lighter, the eyeline lower. That’s it.)
That name, Buck, scraping along his nerves like a jagged saw. His shoulders tighten and square up.
He’s aware that he doesn’t look great (unshaven stubble, messy unshorn hair, he hasn’t exactly had the time and safety to stop by a barber), but he’s also aware that he looks, well, better. He’s been getting some sleep: actual REM hours on a real mattress, not just the numb unconsciousness of complete sedation. The hollows under his eyes aren’t as deep as they used to be. He’s been eating some fresh vegetables from Romanian markets. So, yeah. Maybe ‘good’ is a good enough stopgap.
“Wasn’t sure if I’d be here, either,” he says. His voice is a little cracked and dusty, out-of-practice. “I don’t… Could we try James, to start?”
There’s the itching restless sense that there’s a gaping gulf, the size and shape of a canyon crevasse and a frozen river and seventy-odd years, between the man Steve knew and the new version sitting beside him today.
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That name, Buck, scraping along his nerves like a jagged saw. His shoulders tighten and square up.
He’s aware that he doesn’t look great (unshaven stubble, messy unshorn hair, he hasn’t exactly had the time and safety to stop by a barber), but he’s also aware that he looks, well, better. He’s been getting some sleep: actual REM hours on a real mattress, not just the numb unconsciousness of complete sedation. The hollows under his eyes aren’t as deep as they used to be. He’s been eating some fresh vegetables from Romanian markets. So, yeah. Maybe ‘good’ is a good enough stopgap.
“Wasn’t sure if I’d be here, either,” he says. His voice is a little cracked and dusty, out-of-practice. “I don’t… Could we try James, to start?”
There’s the itching restless sense that there’s a gaping gulf, the size and shape of a canyon crevasse and a frozen river and seventy-odd years, between the man Steve knew and the new version sitting beside him today.
Maybe they’ve got that in common.