[EP] dated for January 10th

[onlyapassenger]

Bucky had been counting the days to January 6th since the first of December, as eager to get his old arm back as he was for the initial change of scenery, but the date came and went with little ceremony and no magical return to the status quo. While he'd hesitate to call himself surly as a result of this, he hasn't exactly been a bucket of sunshine, either.

His temper short and his patience shot, Bucky's tried his damnedest to keep his chin up as the days stretch on, but there's only so much to be done about a clockwork arm that's been in a state of constant repair since the New Year. He's been going without it, lately, not wanting the hassle while he goes about his business, but this afternoon was meant to be the exception. He'd worn the damn thing so he could go get food for the house only for it to become dead weight before he could get to any shop. Closer to the Compound than he is to home, he ducks inside in the hopes he could fix the damn thing and go about this day, but even this plan doesn't go without obstacle.

Seated in the corner of the Rec Room, his left arm detached and laying motionless on a table, he's nearly done with the temporary patch up job when--

"Dammit," Bucky mutters under his breath, the tool he's using slipping from his grasp when he turns it a hair too hard and it catches. While he doesn't care to be doing such technical work out in the open in the first place, with limited options, he's making do. Still, frustrated, he backs up his chair and kneels to the ground to retrieve the screwdriver.

Distantly, he's aware he's attracted some attention, but at the moment, he doesn't care too much about saying hello.

A public EP, open to anyone; played in a private journal just because it's predated.

Comments

[onlyapassenger]

"You don't want it to get easier," he mutters, almost hoping she doesn't hear him, that she doesn't ask him to repeat himself. While he doesn't -- and wouldn't -- wish her to suffer, there's a measure of relief that she's not yet hardened enough to not feel each disappearance as keenly as the first. She's too pure -- too good -- to lose that spark, and though this place might seek to test her, she hasn't yet failed in that regard.

He worries about the day she does, and if he'll still be here to see it.

[radicalize]

Though half-aware that he'd said something, the words themselves got lost somewhere in there. It was like she'd said to Mathias, though, that maybe she still hadn't learned and maybe she never would, but she was — anyone was — better off for it. That didn't help her any now, though, still raw from the loss itself. There was more she could have said, that she wanted to, but as much as she wished she were able, she didn't have it in her to tell him thanks anyway for having agreed to give her away but it, for obvious reasons, wouldn't be necessary now. They'd barely planned for the wedding, but that didn't make it any less difficult to consider that it wasn't going to be happening.

"Thanks," she said instead, figuring that would suffice. It wasn't nearly enough, but it was something, and there was so little to say at a time like this anyway. "For — being here. And all."

[onlyapassenger]

"I'll be here as long as I'm able," he assures her. It's the only promise that's his to give, but it bears saying all the same. For as long as the bastards running this place allows him the opportunity to be there for her, he will be. Anything else would be unconscionable.

"So you don't need to thank me."

[radicalize]

No one was going to be here forever. That was all but guaranteed, only emphasized in Pete's disappearance. For now, though, as long as he was able was something to be grateful for in itself, and Lucy nodded, the motion slight but perceptible. "I'm just really glad you're not gone," she murmured. Everything had changed and it hadn't at the same time, but at least some things were consistent, some people not yet vanished like so many others had.