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IC Inbox
This is the IC inbox for Bucky Barnes at Riverview.
Network name:user.name
This is the place to contact Bucky over the network. Contact by voice or text is perfectly acceptable, and there is no need to plot with me prior to posting in this inbox.
Note: As of the end of December 2017, Bucky has no phone, he has destroyed it. Consequently, this inbox can only be used for in person interaction. You are still more than welcome to post here without plotting with me first.
Network name:
This is the place to contact Bucky over the network. Contact by voice or text is perfectly acceptable, and there is no need to plot with me prior to posting in this inbox.
Note: As of the end of December 2017, Bucky has no phone, he has destroyed it. Consequently, this inbox can only be used for in person interaction. You are still more than welcome to post here without plotting with me first.
no subject
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.]
no subject
Steve draws.
[Or used to, maybe he doesn't any more.]
I don't think I could have sketches and not think of him.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
[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.
no subject
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 subject
[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.
no subject
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.]