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I do.

[It's one of the few personal possessions that he actually still has, taking it from place to place when he migrates every few days to keep himself as private as possible.]

What's the occasion?

[Or is this just a random present? But that would be even more bizarre to him.]

I'm glad.

[At the question she's quiet for a moment, a flicker of hesitation, and her eyes drop slightly. But especially with him, she thinks the sentiment is worth saying.]

It was Thanksgiving the other day. And I mean, there was the feast, but it's not the same.

[Not like with Sana, the thanksgiving dinner they used to go to at the homeless shelter. That sense of being with friends and even just people she moderately liked and sometimes just tolerated, laughing. It's hard to put words to, and there's an awkward tension in her shoulders from trying. She's not good with talking about how she feels about people.]

So I just.. I wanted to do something. I like knowing you.

[She smiles a little self-consciously, looking back up at him after a moment.]

[This isn't the first person who's said that sort of thing to him, but it still doesn't get any easier to hear. It's just weird, especially coming from someone who's actually heard of the Soldier and knows what he was before. He can't say the same in reverse, he hasn't let his guard down enough to like spending time with her, but he's definitely edging in that direction.]

--thank you.

[He finally tucks the record into his jacket, ever so carefully positioning it to make sure it's in no danger of being damaged.]

Would you, uh, would you like to listen to it sometime?

[She doesn't expect reciprocation, but he says thank you and that's still nice. She'd had a soft spot for him even before she really knew who he was, but she doesn't really talk about that story.]

I'm just glad you like it.

[At the offer her smile brightens and warms, a glint in her blue eyes as she nods in easy agreement.]

I'd enjoy that a lot. Just let me know when?

Sure.

[He could text her when, but he knows that given time to dwell on it then he'll keep putting it off and putting it off so that it never happens.]

How 'bout now?

[Then he can't chicken out.]

[When he offers now she smiles softly, hums in quiet affirmation.]

That'd be nice.

[It means a lot to her, the fact that he's willing to, that he offers at all. She hadn't had anything too important planned; nothing she couldn't postpone for James, anyway. She closes her bag and re-shoulders it with a nod.]

[He moves off down the street and now it starts to get awkward because he doesn't usually have small talk to deal with. He should say something as they walk, most people don't stride along in silence.

The pause before he does say something is way too long.]

...how've you been?

[She's quiet for a moment at the question, as if walking in silence was somehow easier. But Ava's always been a little odd in that jagged at the edges sort of way.]

Better, I think? Been keeping busy, mostly. Trying to keep the wildlife from eating the new project the working on. [There's a slight pause there. Things unspoken, about nightmares and nights she sleeps outside the walls because she's afraid of setting everything on fire, reawoken memories she doesn't know how to put to sleep or talk to anyone about, . But if she keeps moving she doesn't have to think about it. But she doesn't lie and say she's fine, either- not to James.]

But trying to keep drawing, too. I've been working with watercolors a bit. I could never afford paints back in Brooklyn, so it's- new. Good.

[Typical social norms probably say she should return the question, but she doesn't. It hasn't been too long since she saw him last, and given how that ended, if feels like it would either be harsh or push too much. He seems better, and that's enough.]

I could draw you something, sometime.

[Her project is those power centres out of town, isn't it? He's vaguely aware of it on the periphery, but maybe he should start wandering out that way more often to see if he could help. Not officially, not in a team with anyone, but on the outskirts and in the shadows like usual.

He won't say as much, there's no need to, he'll just show up some time and try and lead the wildlife away.]

No.

[It's an abrupt answer to her question, cutting through his own thoughts in the process. It's almost harsh for how blunt and firm it is. He doesn't want her art, not now and not ever.]

Paint for yourself, but don't give it to me.

[She'd be very amused if she caught sight of him. Really, she could use all the help she could get. Ava had a tendency of throwing herself into things a bit too deep.]

Okay.

[She'd been so shy about her art before, hardly even showing Sana, and she was trying to be less self-conscious. But she'd never push it. So, she agrees easily, backs off, and while she might be a smidge disappointed, her tone is still light.

Ava pushes him a little sometimes, but only until she knows where the lines are, then she respects them. It's not just out of courtesy, but a feeling that it's important for people like them to be able to make those choices and know they matter. (She'd had her ability to choose taken away from her by everyone- from her parents to Natasha, and all the people in between. Everyone except Sana.)

She almost asks why, but she thinks maybe it's better if she doesn't.]

[Even though she doesn't ask, he still offers her an explanation after another few moments of silence. He's ashamed with how brusque he had been, she'd just been trying to be kind.]

Steve draws.

[Or used to, maybe he doesn't any more.]

I don't think I could have sketches and not think of him.

Oh-

[There's realization there, and maybe she should have known since the other Steve, the one she lives with draws and paints. He'd even done a mural on her bedroom wall. But she treated everyone as their own person, to the extent that she could manage it, anyway, and she'd never seen it, so she hadn't realized.

She can't help feeling a little bad, and she understands it.]

It's okay, I get it.

[She offers him a reassuring smile at that. It's still hard for him, of course it is. It still feels strange, not having Steve here, and she'd only really known him since coming here.]

[At least, of all the people here, she's one of the ones that's most likely to understand and not hold it against him. It's one of the things that makes her surprisingly easy to be around, compared to most others.

He lapses back into silence again until they reach his current little bolt hole, and then he gestures to the corner.]

Record player's over there.

[She might be damaged in different ways, but she gets it, and honestly the explanation makes his rejection seem that much softer.

The silence isn't strained; she's not particularly good at smalltalk, anyway, and there's something easy about following after his shadow. But they make their way without incident, and they reach his little bolthole.

She doesn't judge him for how he lives -- she's lived in similar ways herself. She'd probably be living much the same if Bucky and Steve of that other world hadn't convinced her that things would be okay. She still didn't entirely trust it, but it had been months now and she hadn't set anything on fire, so there was that.

She nods at his words, looking over at the small player, then back at him for a moment.] Which one do you want to listen to first?

Your choice.

[He invited her here to listen, after all. He can go through both records at a later time, when he's on his own, and learn each tiny movement of the music. He hopes that it might spark some recognition, but even if it doesn't, he's still looking forward to it.]

Just put it on low, don't want to attract passing attention.

Alright. [She hums thoughtfully, and after moment, the one she picks is In the Mood. It had topped the charts in 1940, though she doesn't know that particular detail. Natasha had been a young girl in Russia then, and it wasn't the sort of knowledge that Ava had much track with.

Once she has the record she carefully takes it out of the cardboard slipcase and the paper liner, keeps her fingers so they only touch the edges as she sets it into place on the turntable, and then swings the arm into place, gently settling the stylus into place. There's that soft crackle for the a few seconds, and then music beings to play - softly, as he'd asked.

Ava smiles, taking a few steps back so she can lean against the wall while she listens. She looks at him, curious what he thinks of it.]

Edited 2017-12-16 04:46 (UTC)

[Bucky watches her with a fierce intensity, as if he might be a little afraid of her damaging the gramophone despite how careful she is with it. It's not an indictment on her, more just that he has such a small amount of possessions that every one of them has an increased importance.

He's silent until she's done, until the song is almost half done. When he does speak, his voice is curiously distant, as if he's speaking to the past rather than to her.]

I think I remember buying this record for-- someone else, not me. A present, maybe.

[She doesn't flinch under his scrutiny, and having been someone that lived in places like this, she knows how precious personal possessions can be. For her it was- still is- her drawing pad and her pencils. Even if she's accumulating more the longer she stays here, looks a little less like a half-starved street rat (having a high metabolism wasn't good when food scarcity was a problem) she still understands it.

She sits quietly, enjoys the music as the song plays. He's silent and she doesn't break the moment as the cascade of note quietly wafts in the small space. She smiles when he finally speaks, though, a warmth to her expression. She's glad for it- even if it's just a small piece, she's pleased that she could give him even that.]

I'm glad. Do you like it?

Yeah.

[He wants to listen all night and see if the notes jog anything else free from his memory, but perhaps not with her there. He doesn't quite know how to ask her to go, though, they just got here and it seems rude when she got him this piece of his past.]

Yeah-- thank you.

[She brightens, warms as he says thank you and she nods in soft acceptance. Small things like this; being able to give someone a gift they really enjoy isn't something she's been able to do often so she really does appreciate the small moment of it.]

You're welcome.

[She doesn't quite have the awareness to realize directly that he doesn't know how to nicely ask her to leave. But she can pick up on the slight tension, a slight tilt of her head that's almost a question as she looks over at him.]

Is it too much? [She could understand if it was. With what had happened with her and Nat she had a very intimate awareness of how memory could push too much.]

No.

[A little, but not too much in a bad way. He just isn't used to dealing with this sort of barrage of emotion all at once, especially positive emotions, and so it's left him a bit vulnerable.

He's quiet for a moment, trying to think of a polite way to dismiss her.]

I'm gonna keep listening for a while. It might be boring, you don't have to stay.

[She nods, looking at him. That, she catches onto. And she understands; no insult from it. She smiles at him, warm, slinging her bag over her shoulder.]

Well, I guess I'll leave you to it, then.

[There's a pause, looking at him before she quite makes it to the door.] Try not to disappear too far.

[Or else she'll leave him another note. But she likes seeing him, checking in on him, sporadic as it might be.]

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