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[for Stark]
Aug. 11th, 2012 02:52 amHe's been avoiding this conversation. He could try to convince himself it's because he's had other things to do -- getting the ITF's numbers up had been a particularly neglected priority during the month he'd spent thinking he was still back in the war -- but the truth is that apologies had simply never come easily to him, and the same continues to hold true now.
After all, most people didn't survive his attempts on their life. It probably says something about Tony Stark that he's endured made it through over various incarnations -- though what, exactly, Bucky can't tell you.
When Stark's usual haunts turn up empty, Bucky'd briefly considers putting off the conversation another day. It can wait, there's other business to attend to, other apologies to be made. But as he walks away from the Scrapyard, he knows he's already left this particular loose end untied long enough, and it's with a renewed sense of purpose that he goes out of his way to continue his search. He eventually finds himself outside the guy's house -- what exists of it, at least. Though parts of it are constructed, there's plenty left that's still just scaffolding. But the house doesn't hold his attention for long, his gaze falling on the man he's spent the afternoon looking for instead.
Their last conversation had been almost pleasant, ignoring the amnesia. He doubts this one will go half as well. They barely know each other, when all is said and done, but there's enough of a history to make things complicated regardless.
Adopting what he hopes passes for a conciliatory bearing, he makes his approach.
"Stark?"
After all, most people didn't survive his attempts on their life. It probably says something about Tony Stark that he's endured made it through over various incarnations -- though what, exactly, Bucky can't tell you.
When Stark's usual haunts turn up empty, Bucky'd briefly considers putting off the conversation another day. It can wait, there's other business to attend to, other apologies to be made. But as he walks away from the Scrapyard, he knows he's already left this particular loose end untied long enough, and it's with a renewed sense of purpose that he goes out of his way to continue his search. He eventually finds himself outside the guy's house -- what exists of it, at least. Though parts of it are constructed, there's plenty left that's still just scaffolding. But the house doesn't hold his attention for long, his gaze falling on the man he's spent the afternoon looking for instead.
Their last conversation had been almost pleasant, ignoring the amnesia. He doubts this one will go half as well. They barely know each other, when all is said and done, but there's enough of a history to make things complicated regardless.
Adopting what he hopes passes for a conciliatory bearing, he makes his approach.
"Stark?"