It's not the first time Bucky's been somewhere unfamiliar, or even been in that place sort of kind of against his will. This is probably more legitimate kidnapping, granted, than being dug out of a block of ice, but he'd kind of intended to stay in that block of ice pretty much forever, so he could say he was sort-of kind-of forcibly removed against his will.
He just won't.
Out loud.
So, just like before - Welcome to the future! - now, it's Welcome to space! It could be worse, sure, but it could be better. And he's not entirely convinced it's as "hopeless" as it seems. Sure, he doesn't know where he is or how most of the shit here works. But he does know that if people are actually being held against their will, then it wouldn't be the first time he's done something to change that.
But first, he needs to gather some intel. And have a damn drink. So the bar just makes the most sense. Honestly, of all the places he's been so far, the bar is definitely the most straightforward. They always are, no matter the decade - or the planet (even if this isn't a planet, whatever) - it seems.
He's in uniform, because he hasn't bothered getting changed yet. The dark blue and silver tac gear isn't the most comfortable thing to wear for days on end, but it could be a hell of a lot worse. The shield just feels like another appendage at this point - he notices more when it's missing than when it isn't. Maybe, if he lets himself admit it, it's like carrying a piece of Steve wherever he goes.
Except - that's Steve. At the bar. It is - he'd know that fucking figure anywhere, that little I'm-not-falling-off-look-at-my-exquisite-balance move anywhere, too. Okay, he's used to seeing a much smaller, slimmer body try to pull it off, but it's the same. He's the same.
It's Steve.
Bucky can't actually say how he got from the door to the bar. It feels like he covered the distance in an eyeblink, like it was only a heartbeat and then he's standing next to Steve's stool, and, "Steve?" is the only thing that can come out, raw and quiet and...
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He just won't.
Out loud.
So, just like before - Welcome to the future! - now, it's Welcome to space! It could be worse, sure, but it could be better. And he's not entirely convinced it's as "hopeless" as it seems. Sure, he doesn't know where he is or how most of the shit here works. But he does know that if people are actually being held against their will, then it wouldn't be the first time he's done something to change that.
But first, he needs to gather some intel. And have a damn drink. So the bar just makes the most sense. Honestly, of all the places he's been so far, the bar is definitely the most straightforward. They always are, no matter the decade - or the planet (even if this isn't a planet, whatever) - it seems.
He's in uniform, because he hasn't bothered getting changed yet. The dark blue and silver tac gear isn't the most comfortable thing to wear for days on end, but it could be a hell of a lot worse. The shield just feels like another appendage at this point - he notices more when it's missing than when it isn't. Maybe, if he lets himself admit it, it's like carrying a piece of Steve wherever he goes.
Except - that's Steve. At the bar. It is - he'd know that fucking figure anywhere, that little I'm-not-falling-off-look-at-my-exquisite-balance move anywhere, too. Okay, he's used to seeing a much smaller, slimmer body try to pull it off, but it's the same. He's the same.
It's Steve.
Bucky can't actually say how he got from the door to the bar. It feels like he covered the distance in an eyeblink, like it was only a heartbeat and then he's standing next to Steve's stool, and, "Steve?" is the only thing that can come out, raw and quiet and...