[ Well, that was almost a laugh. Almost. It's something, anyway. He remembers how his own Steve was, during the war, how Bucky'd always tried to get a laugh out of him, because otherwise there'd only be mud, and fog, and fire, and the weight of the free world on Steve's shoulders.
Bucky puts his hands in his pockets. He doesn't take up much space— or maybe he just feels small. ]
I don't know who you expect me to be.
[ A killer? A friend? He's had too many lives, and most of them have taught him to assume the worst. Steve was really the one thing that didn't. ]
no subject
Bucky puts his hands in his pockets. He doesn't take up much space— or maybe he just feels small. ]
I don't know who you expect me to be.
[ A killer? A friend? He's had too many lives, and most of them have taught him to assume the worst. Steve was really the one thing that didn't. ]