z_jay | Luceti | Appointments

Serviceman and a fireman? You're a jack of all trades?

[Some flaky biscuits, possibly a few cream-filled croissants, and two or three bagels were in his bag. Enough to experiment a little with whoever would be here. Best to test on the folks you'd be working with in order to really impress. He rolled his eyes endearingly when he heard the quip about cars running for a week on it before opening his bag to Mr Barnes for closer inspection]

And where were you when I broke down making my way out of London? I'm not asking for a reason, just what specialty you're bringing. Best to know what our strengths and weaknesses are as a team, right? I'll be honest, I probably won't be the best as moving things along fast. Not because of the leg, but because I like to talk...

[Bucky made an affirmative sound around the croissant he'd stolen from Eugene's bag the moment he'd opened it further. Pastry thief would look great on his resume.]

You don't say. [He'd noticed.] Talk all you want. In fact, if you're up for showin' off, I'd appreciate it. Most of my special skills don't exactly translate into... coffee.

[Was it thievery if it was free to begin with? He snorted softly and closed the bag after he'd picked, mission so far successful and glad for it. Raising both brows, the last statement had him wondering what special skills that Mr Barnes had aside from being fairly dashing in a uniform.]

I don't think I'll be doing any showing off until me and Jack have the radio show up and running. We are still planning that, actually. Just-- things... have gotten in the way. Anyway, skills. Special skills? Don't tell me it's explosions, I don't think Natasha would appreciate her hard-earned coffee supplies and equipment spontaneously combusting.

Man, I might be dating her, but I'm not suicidal. [He swallows a bite of croissant and settles back onto one of the stools. There's a moment of hesitation, but he shrugs, mostly to himself.]

Explosions I can do, hand-to-hand, the stuff you'd expect. Thought I might end up a military sniper before my unit got... Before Steve showed up. I did some of that for him. And infiltration, sabotage, assassination... It's a long story. [He waves a hand, then leans back with his elbows against the counter.] And somehow I don't think espresso shots work that way.

[It was very good he wasn't drinking just then. People always knew he and Jack were together, it always seemed odd that he could never tell when someone else was dating someone he knew. Still, he gave Bucky a grin, measuring and impressed. From what he knew of Natasha was she seemed to be the sort of lady like Pepper was. Strong, independent, out of his league.]

Smart man. See, this is why you're still around and kicking. No thanks to some helpful muscle mass as well, I mean. So... is everyone around here a massive overachiever or are me and Jack just your underachievers? Inquiring minds want to know~

[Moving to one of the coffee machines he switched it on and checked levels, making sure ingredients were where they were needed and that they were in good working order]

So you're the creative genius behind the name of this place, then? Shot in the dark. I wouldn't mind... having some training in sniping, if I might be so bold to ask. Always can do with more learning how to defend oneself...

[Just in case the zombie apocalypse repeated itself and he needed to be way more effective than with just a steel pipe]

[Personally, Bucky thought she was far out of his own league, and he had never considered himself modest in that respect.]

When I met you, you and Jack were out driving around a war zone helping people. You'd call that kinda thing is underachieving? Because most people call it something else.

[He turned so he could face Woods, arms braced against the counter top.]

Tasha's the only genius around here. The name was her idea too. [He inclined his head.] Not that I don't like having my ego stroked, but all this flattery is gonna make me blush, so save it for your fella, huh? [Bucky gave him an easy grin.] I'll teach you whatever you want. All you've gotta do is ask.

Or stupid, I think Zevran called us out on that one. [He grinned with some teeth momentarily before he heard about the flattery and raised both his brows. He was... just a little unsure about how to proceed to get someone he liked to like him. But maybe he'd earned it and he could lay off... relax a little, because no matter what their previous circumstances were, right now they were coworkers and they were technically not on any kind of shift.]

I have to practice somewhere before I can throw these flattering statements at Jack. But sniping, yeah. Something to help protect the people I care about. Probably way more effective than throwing scalding coffee in their faces. All things considered.

[He busied himself with making a proper brew, holding it out to Mr Barnes with a soft smile]

Show me how to snipe?

Sounds like someone was worried about you.

[His gaze dropped briefly when Woods talked about protecting loved ones. He hadn't felt like that was something he could do since that first draft, since he'd killed Steve. He knew it wasn't really Steve by that point. He even knew he had protected him, countless times before and after. Maybe even then. But today wasn't the day his heart would fall in line with his head.

At the least, he knew his skills were useful, and the more people who had them, the better.

He took the mug from Woods with a shake of his head. He could see what Jack saw in the guy - he definitely had charm to spare.]

When you ask like that how's a guy supposed to say no? [He took a sip, and then another less than a beat after - the coffee was pretty good.] The bribe doesn't hurt either.

Let me know when you're ready. I'm at the battle dome almost every day.

Edited 2013-06-12 20:12 (UTC)

Well, you know how we stubborn and pig-headed types are, huh?

[Pleased that his coffee craftsmanship was a hit, he carried on without any fanfare. There was a certain tension he noticed in Mr Barnes, something that he recognized in the faces of a lot of others. Survivor's guilt? He couldn't presume to know, that sort of thing... it was personal.]

The thing is you're not supposed to say no. That's why I ask that way. Get what I want. Anyway, what's she got you doing here? Security? Bouncer service? Eye candy?

Do I ever.

[He hid a grin behind his mug, lest Woods get the impression that he actually liked that type or anything. The last thing he needed was another pair of doe eyes aimed at him.

Still, he watched Woods work, curious, if nothing else.]

Honestly? Stayin' outa' trouble until my hand heals up. [He set the mug down so he could prop his chin up on his fist.] Don't think she really needs me here, but it's something to do. [He shrugs.] And anyway, who knows what you'd get up to without supervision. The charming ones are always troublemakers.

Mr. Barnes, I'm hurt you'd assume I was up to anything but no good~

[but you didn't just accept coffee and pastries from a guy you didn't trust. He could have easily poisoned any of that-- but it wasn't in his nature to. This is where he was making his own coffee, testing the machines and his own judgments as to how much or how little needed to be applied to produce different effects]

What happened to your hand?

Training accident.

[It's not a lie, exactly. He says it with another easy shrug.] Don't worry, if you mess up any of Natasha's nice equipment you'll still get spanked.

[Alright, so that caught him off guard and surprised and color his slightly pinker because he didn't... expect that at all. But he had to give the man some respect points for the element of surprise]

Sounds... painful. The accident, not the spa-- oh.

[He did that semi-on purpose. But then he spotted the toaster and oh, his options for culinary prep just went up exponentially]

Sharing the blame is caring, anyway. So, now that we're not being shot at or ferrying you back and forth from the front line-- what's your story? And since we're going to be working together I'd like to at least be in on some secrets. If there are any.

[He's not sure what the blushing is about. Maybe that word means something different in the future? Probably something perverse, considering basically everything he's said that Clint has managed to twist in the last few months.

He doesn't have the chance to explain when Eugene changes the topic, so he just shrugs and goes along with it. Not a problem.]

You weren't kidding about the journalist bit. But I suppose you did get me breakfast.

Not much to tell, though. My parents passed when I was a kid. Met Steve Rogers fighting some punks twice his size in some back alley in Brooklyn, and the two of us bein' orphans... We ended up each other's family. [He wraps his good hand around the mug again. A small, wry smile touches his lips.] He was gonna be an artist. Has a real talent for it. I was - well, probably making time with every pretty girl in the city.

The war seemed pretty far away, till the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. [He raises his gaze to Woods.] That still happen in your history?

[It had been far too long since he'd considered himself in terms of a journalist but he did miss it. Grinning a bit, he listened attentively, making no remarks to mar recollection or diverge from Mr Barnes' story. So he had a friend who wanted to be an artist and he was a natural lady's man. It didn't really say much, but he didn't expect to be told anything but the cursory story.

When spoken to, however, he answered easily enough, nodding in the affirmative while he sipped his coffee]

Yeah, that war's pretty romanticized by novels and movies, now. Lots of war stories, but the history is true. What's... where were you taken from in your world? Was the war over?

No. But from what people have been tellin' me, I only missed the end by a few months. Go figure, huh?

[He takes a swallow of his coffee.]

So what about you? Just a poor journalist dragged into Wonderland?

All that fuss and no resolution. I'd feel gypped.

[Sitting up a little straighter he made a considering look, drumming his fingers thoughtfully along the mug. Truthfully, Barnes might appreciate thinking the world was wonderful, but he was also a keen observer. Anything he might try to get past the man would drive a wedge between them.]

A poor journalist dragged into Wonderland is pretty accurate. But Luceti really is a step up in the world. You could say there's a war going on, another world-scale type, in my time. The grey plague approaches, zombies at my neighbors-- I saw those headlines. I wish they were in the tabloids.

Between you and me - I do, sometimes. But then I figure, I'm here, Steve's here. We won. If I get kicked back one day, maybe I can rest easy for a while.

[Until he became a soviet assassin apparently, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. If he ever had to.

And anyway, he was more curious about Woods' world. As much as he might admire what Woods and Holden had done during the draft, that wasn't the way straight-up civilians behaved for the most part.

The reaction to the word 'zombies' is intimidate and visceral, his fingers tightening against the mug in such a quick motion he's lucky it doesn't crack. He sets it back down, and sits up a little straighter himself, shoulders square.

He wants to think that Woods is joking, but he doubts it.]

Zombies? Are you serious? I don't envy you, buddy. The first draft I went on here, they nearly bombed the enclosure to stop the infection, and that was after everything went straight to hell. How the hell did you make out with a whole world full of 'em?

[The scale of the zombie invasion wasn't something Eugene had considered in Luceti-- though he really should have-- and he froze a little too still and too quiet at mention of the enclosure nearly bombed. Catching himself after a moment, he licked his lips and grinned, rueful, but shaken]

I wish I were, the idea seems so far-off from reality. But it is out reality. Listen-- don't tell folks about it. Jack and I prefer to keep it under wraps.

[Mostly, they wanted to be as far away from that reality as possible without losing who they were. If he knew more about Bucky, perhaps he wouldn't even need to ask for the discretion, but they had time to get to know each other yet]

We live in a township called Abel-- it's really just a farmhouse with some really reinforced walls. But we call it home, and it keeps the zoms out.

You got it.

[He understood, in a way. He talked around the actual war whenever possible, and even he had been dealing with people - crazy, occasionally superpowered people, but still people - not something as horrible as what he'd seen out at that enclosure, on a global scale.]

Never thought I'd say this to anyone else around here, so don't take it the wrong way but - on the off chance someone gets a way home worked out, I hope you guys can stick around. [He gives Eugene a wry smile.] It'll be nice to have some company.

[There had been an almost chance a while back, before the draft? He remembered there being a possibility with this Stark guy, or maybe it was hearsay. Regardless, he wasn't going to go back home if he could help it and he offered Bucky a rueful smile and a wink]

I'm afraid you're stuck with us, Mr Barnes. Whether you like it or not. Even if there was a chance to go home, going back is... It's not really living. It's just surviving. Every day a constant reminder of just how quickly our social standards can be shattered.

[Bucky lifted his mug in return, a silent salute before he took another swallow to finish the contents of it.

Hundreds, maybe thousands of different universes out there, he supposes it makes sense that the world really ended in one of them. It's not a nice thing to think about, good people like Jack and Eugene just surviving, day after day.]

Like I said, I'll be glad for the company. [He leans over the counter to clasp Eugene's upper arm briefly.] And you know, if you ever wanna talk... I think it's safe to say we've both been in some pretty bad places.

Maybe one day, but we're doing alright. We have each other.

[Which might explain the slightly codependent relationship he had on Jack. Through thick, thin, unsure, desperate, and dangerous times. But the grip on his arm was nice and reassuring and he couldn't help but grin to know that there was at least a commonality between them that extended beyond coworkers in Natasha's coffee shop.

It also helped he was cute.

So, now that we've established we'll be good friends for a nice long time-- can I call you Jim? Or... anything but Mr Barnes? You can call me Gene if you want, Jack does.

Bucky. My friends call me Bucky. Try to stick me with any version of Jim and I'll deck you clear across the counter.

[His eyes are bright with good humor, taking any edge off the weight of his tone. He wouldn't actually deck Eugene for it, but he really does hate being called Jim.]

So Gene, huh? Is that all he calls you? Or just in public? [He raises his eyebrows, teasing, since it's just the two of them.]

Careful, Bucky [he began, resting his chin over his knuckles in a purely amused way] I might like the strength required to knock me clear across the counter more than you might expect.

And only in public, I'm not telling you what he calls me out of the public eye. You couldn't handle it, my good friend.

[Especially not since 'luv' was on the lower end of the naughty scale and a hell of a lot higher on the adorable one. Or at least the kind to have them both acting awkward]

If I told you I'd have to kill you, and all that.

[Action, May 30th]

[Action, May 30th]

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