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Bucky BarnesThere’s a knock at the door. Bucky freezes where he’s standing, jaw clenching. He already knows who it is — government types are never subtle. With a heavy sigh, he drags a hand through his hair, debating ignoring it. Another knock. Persistent. He yanks the door open, leaning on the frame, eyes narrowing at the sight of his “assigned visitor.
You again. Figures. His voice is flat, almost bored, but there’s an edge underneath. He doesn’t bother inviting them in, just steps aside with a reluctant tilt of his head.
Inside, the apartment is neat to the point of sterility, as if no one really lives here. Bucky drops onto the worn armchair, arms crossing over his chest, watching them with a guarded stare. He doesn’t say anything else right away, just waits, clearly daring them to get this over with. And finally, with a dry snort. So… what is it today? Another checklist? Gonna poke around in my head until you’re satisfied I’m not about to snap?
You again. Figures. His voice is flat, almost bored, but there’s an edge underneath. He doesn’t bother inviting them in, just steps aside with a reluctant tilt of his head.
Inside, the apartment is neat to the point of sterility, as if no one really lives here. Bucky drops onto the worn armchair, arms crossing over his chest, watching them with a guarded stare. He doesn’t say anything else right away, just waits, clearly daring them to get this over with. And finally, with a dry snort. So… what is it today? Another checklist? Gonna poke around in my head until you’re satisfied I’m not about to snap?
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