[ Bucky's jaw looks like it's worrying something between his teeth the way it twitches and shifts. It's the words that are giving him trouble; he can't seem to find the right order in his mouth, but Tony offers an easy way out.
Or, no. Perhaps that's harder. For him it would be, to bury the hatchet with someone he felt slighted him. He doesn't do that. He razes the other man to the ground until there's nothing left. Until Buck can feel like the stronger, better man and then salt the very earth before he leaves.
But then that doesn't happen with friends. Or a potential friend. Someone he felt a kinship with at the very least—someone quick-witted and a little immature. So, what tactic should he take with Stark? That's the dilemma. ]
........ Fine. Your turn to pay, though. [ And that's that. His brown eyes no longer hold their lively shine, but the fiery rage is gone at least. ] Guess it's for the best you aren't him. He had no sense of humor.
[ But maybe that was because Buck blew a hole through the helicarrier and freed every imprisoned Invader in just under 32 seconds. That'd sure take the wind out of your sails. ]
[Tony lets out a breath as the kid's body language unwinds -- not fully relaxed, maybe, but enough that he probably won't start smashing glasses against the bar counter, which is where they were at before.
Tony considers this for a second -- juxtaposes the angry hellion he just witnessed against the cold, robotic motions of the man in the German holding facility, on the airport tarmac, in the images of the horrible, grainy video he wishes he could wipe from his head. So completely different that Tony wonders if one could lead into the other -- if it's possible to harness anger and hurt, and freeze it in the shape of a weapon. Could you take a boy on fire and make him your winter soldier?
Tony motions the bartender over. He pauses, then refills their drinks when Tony swipes his wrist device over the payment sensor.
Tony picks up his tumbler and stares down at it for a second, watches the way the ice clinks against the glass.]
Yeah. [The side of his mouth twists into a half-smile, strained and distant.] I know the type.
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industries) wrote2019-05-15 09:19 pm
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Or, no. Perhaps that's harder. For him it would be, to bury the hatchet with someone he felt slighted him. He doesn't do that. He razes the other man to the ground until there's nothing left. Until Buck can feel like the stronger, better man and then salt the very earth before he leaves.
But then that doesn't happen with friends. Or a potential friend. Someone he felt a kinship with at the very least—someone quick-witted and a little immature. So, what tactic should he take with Stark? That's the dilemma. ]
........ Fine. Your turn to pay, though. [ And that's that. His brown eyes no longer hold their lively shine, but the fiery rage is gone at least. ] Guess it's for the best you aren't him. He had no sense of humor.
[ But maybe that was because Buck blew a hole through the helicarrier and freed every imprisoned Invader in just under 32 seconds. That'd sure take the wind out of your sails. ]
no subject
Tony considers this for a second -- juxtaposes the angry hellion he just witnessed against the cold, robotic motions of the man in the German holding facility, on the airport tarmac, in the images of the horrible, grainy video he wishes he could wipe from his head. So completely different that Tony wonders if one could lead into the other -- if it's possible to harness anger and hurt, and freeze it in the shape of a weapon. Could you take a boy on fire and make him your winter soldier?
Tony motions the bartender over. He pauses, then refills their drinks when Tony swipes his wrist device over the payment sensor.
Tony picks up his tumbler and stares down at it for a second, watches the way the ice clinks against the glass.]
Yeah. [The side of his mouth twists into a half-smile, strained and distant.] I know the type.
[They drink.]