freightcars: (I ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ Bᴀʟᴇɴᴄɪᴀɢᴀs)
ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ ([personal profile] freightcars) wrote in [personal profile] definingfuture 2018-12-01 07:19 am (UTC)

[ It's a lot to file away, and while Bucky's mind is very much not a database it is a series of unkempt cardboard boxes haphazardly taped together and shoved behind walls so he can deal with the here and now without succumbing to the contents of any one particular box. Tony touches on two or three at a time, and he licks his lips as he filters the information to their designated Do Not Kick receptacles.

His thumb worries steadily at the place where mug handle meets actual mug, that small joining divot constantly scrubbed with the print on his pad.

What matters is what you do now.
Murder five people in a city where he finally didn't have a history.
They're all alive again, though, which is better — but it means facing them head on, like he's trying to do now.

He bites his tongue, searches for the right path. His hesitance translates through in his speech, slow spoken, careful, deliberate words. ]


I made it look like a car crash.

[ Just in case. Just in case, because it's too close to the fabrication. It may be a coincidence. He hopes it is.

Being Director of SHIELD doesn't bother him so much; they tore the organization down before it was much of a factor where he's from. Unless Tony plans on starting a new BDSM chapter of it here, it's not likely to be a concern in the future.

Just another interesting fact to jot down on the mental notepad where he's compiling a list. ]

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