[He shoots her a lopsided smile, and finishes up the bottle.]
Cute and dumb kind of sums up what memories I have of me from before. You should've seen Steve when he got drunk, he was a real lightweight because of his size, and he'd just get even more belligerent and stubborn. We got in a lot of fights when Steve drank.
Are you kidding? Steve picked way more fights than we could ever win, and he always seemed to go for the biggest guys in there.
[That's not fair, Steve only ever picked fights with those he saw as bullies, the ones who were disrespectful or cruel, but it sometimes felt like the man had gone out specifically looking for fights.]
I wasn't so bad, I used to box in high school so I knew my way around a fight, but I was always having to patch Steve up. Got pretty good at dealing with black eyes and split lips.
[He actually has a hint of enthusiasm in his voice, a pang of nostalgic fondness for a time when fighting still meant something other than death.]
I was a tri-state champion in school, I remember that I had this little cup that I won and my Ma polished it every week to make sure it shone. Maybe I would've carried it on, tried to be a proper boxer, but there wasn't a whole lot of money around and then the war happened.
[It's easier to talk about his past with her than most anyone else. She gets why there might be holes in his recollections and she doesn't pry overly much, it makes it so he can relax enough to say these things without overthinking it.]
I can try, but I'm not sure how much I remember myself. I think it's been about eighty years since I last boxed.
Well, eighty years is understandable. But maybe getting back into it will jog your memory. Like riding a bike!
[It also might be something he still finds fun, after all these years. She doesn't want him missing out on something from his past that he still might be able to enjoy.]
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I can try to be more honest, I suppose.
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[It's an old wound, the lies, but it still sticks sometimes.]
So how about you start being honest about how you're feeling with Monty gone?
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[She goes quiet, and looks away.]
I don't want to.
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[Soft, but firm.]
But I think you need to.
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Can I finish my wine first?
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[Finish the glass, fine. Finish several bottles, not so much.]
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[Yeahhhh she knows he isn't going to let her drink all of them and get totally plastered.]
... Finish this one with me, at least?
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[But he holds out his hand for it all the same, because it'll stop her drinking the whole thing.]
The serum stops me from getting drunk.
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[She hands him the bottle.]
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How easy is it for you to get drunk?
[He knows that she can, but she's got more fortitude than a regular human too.]
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[She takes the bottle back, taking a long sip.]
Hard liquor obviously makes it easier than wine.
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[Because then he knows how worried he should be about her if he sees her drunk.]
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[She didn't bring enough wine for it, unfortunately.]
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[He shrugs, taking another drink of his own.]
But I prefer you sober.
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[Easier to stay in control that way.]
What were you like when you were drunk? Do you remember?
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I kind of remember being cocky, like really cocky, and thinking I was hilarious. I was probably just really dumb.
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[Most people are when they're drunk.
Still, she smiles.]
But you were probably a cute dumb.
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[He shoots her a lopsided smile, and finishes up the bottle.]
Cute and dumb kind of sums up what memories I have of me from before. You should've seen Steve when he got drunk, he was a real lightweight because of his size, and he'd just get even more belligerent and stubborn. We got in a lot of fights when Steve drank.
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Yeah? Did you win them all?
[Tell her about drunken fights, Bucky.]
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[That's not fair, Steve only ever picked fights with those he saw as bullies, the ones who were disrespectful or cruel, but it sometimes felt like the man had gone out specifically looking for fights.]
I wasn't so bad, I used to box in high school so I knew my way around a fight, but I was always having to patch Steve up. Got pretty good at dealing with black eyes and split lips.
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Sounds like he's lucky to have had you.
[That's adorable. Steve was probably grateful, too.]
I didn't know you could box.
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[He actually has a hint of enthusiasm in his voice, a pang of nostalgic fondness for a time when fighting still meant something other than death.]
I was a tri-state champion in school, I remember that I had this little cup that I won and my Ma polished it every week to make sure it shone. Maybe I would've carried it on, tried to be a proper boxer, but there wasn't a whole lot of money around and then the war happened.
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Is that right? Maybe you should show me a few moves sometime. I've never learned to box.
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I can try, but I'm not sure how much I remember myself. I think it's been about eighty years since I last boxed.
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Well, eighty years is understandable. But maybe getting back into it will jog your memory. Like riding a bike!
[It also might be something he still finds fun, after all these years. She doesn't want him missing out on something from his past that he still might be able to enjoy.]
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