”Well, this is
”Should I stand back?”
They move quickly, pace a rapid rhythm over sun-baked pavement. It’s the only sign that betrays Bucky’s urgency. The arm draped around lean shoulders is intentionally casual, shoulders slumped under the cotton cloth. A smile refined over decades dances on lips chapped by the heat; curved into a smirk just at one corner, enough to be natural without needing any cheer to prompt it.
"Down here, buddy. Basement apartment
rent’s cheap.” With a guiding pressure, Bucky leads their path down a set of steps. The door swings to reveal a basic interior, bare floors and dust-slick furniture crying disuse. “Ask your questions here. Can almost hear ‘em in your head.”
Normally, Steve would never be able to keep up with this kind of pace, not in this heat and especially not after the kind of whallop he’d just taken (broken bottle to the gut aside). The humidity should stick to his clothes and stuff his throat with cotton, but he’s still taking deeper lungfuls than he can ever remember taking. It doesn’t make sense, how he can be left to bleed out in a heap in a back alley one moment, and the next he’s literally being swept away by a handsome stranger feeling healthier than he has in his whole life.
This is his chance to get answers, if he’s just patient enough. He makes it, but barely, swinging around to plant hands on his hips the moment they step foot inside. “What did you do to me?” He can’t just accept it. No one’s looked out for him since his Ma, and it doesn’t exactly sit easy on his shoulders knowing he owes someone now. His eyes cast around for answers, and all it does is raise another question. “I—you live here?
“Way ahead of you — as if I actually expected you
to get off your ass and do it.
But you’re so up for next time.
Oh wait. Damn sure I said
that last time ‘round.
You wanna know who’s actually
paying the price for all your years
of masked avenging?
That’d be me, in cold, hard cash.
You’re the reason I’m such a pushover, Rogers.”
You’re supposed to be my friend,
not come over and nag me, Buck.
Ah-ah. Don’t you start up with that,
lest we forget the night you left me
to pay the tab so you could make
eyes at someone. And then pay
the cabbie to take you back home.
And it’s called compassion.
I’ll gladly take credit for that.”
”You should pay the pizza man; I’m clearly fast asleep.”
”I take that to mean you’re curious, too? It’s complicated to answer, because it depends on the circumstance of the particular murder in question. First or second degree, manslaughter, insanity plea or no. There is no one cookie-cutter sentence, one of the best parts of the legal system. Every case is evaluated separately.
Perhaps if I had a few more details—”
Sebastian Stan as Blaine being a great american patriot in Hot Tub Time Machine.
[ outoftheice ]
She’s staring at him, her brow furrowing a bit as she pulls open the door. He’s lucky she looked through the peephole, otherwise she might have shot him on the spot. “Did you seriously try to pick my lock? I thought you were joking.”
His eyes dart up sheepishly. “I…wasn’t. I don’t have a key, so.. at least it’s not your window this time? Is this a bad time?”
"I was just looking."
[ he tugs the rag from off his shoulder and hands it over ]
”Feel free, just watch the fingerprints. See anything you like?”
"—Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you."
can this be shown like at the beginning and ending of commercial breaks or something? just, often and endlessly repeated.
I can’t stress how important this is and how religions or ideas should not justify taking away basic human rights