poly_chromatic | (no subject)

Entry tags:

captain america - bucky barnes

(no subject)

[ The room is a bar.

It's old - peeling posters and dusty glasses against the walls - and the only two souls inside are the soldier sitting on a stool and the bartender who's face is obscured by shadow. Rows of doors are lined up on the other side of the room and occasionally the bartender takes a halting step towards it, dragging his leg slightly. There's a gun on the counter and the filled tumbler in Bucky's hands is red in the dull light.

Every beat or two and the room shakes with the sound of an explosion and he doesn't look up, doesn't flinch, but his hand moves to the gun beside him, fingers dragging along the barrel. ]

( ooc: so i figure this can be as surreal and strange as we want it, and i'm pretty happy to go along any route. come dream hop. make him go through a door etc. )

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Depends on the door I guess. [ He holds the glass for a second longer than puts it down. ]

I try not to go through them.

Really? I like doors. I tend to go through them.

[And, as someone once said, that is the truth.

As such, he's heading for one now...]

[ He twists and moves away from the stool, following the man towards the door. ]

Could be anything behind there.

Sure could.

[He's reaching for the doorknob--and doing so dramatically, obnoxiously slowly... (As proved by the half-grin over his shoulder.)]

[ He hears the train whistle through the wood and Bucky has the presence of mind to slip forward and slam his palm against it so it won't open. ]

Not that one.

No?

Is that train a pain?

You could say that.

[ He frowns at the door. ] So we don't go through that one.

Okay. So. Another one.

[And he's gleeful going for another door already.]

[ Behind that door is an orphanage. Bucky's less worried about that, mostly because there's the childish stamp of feet and laughter through it. ]

C'mon Buck, I'll race you.

[A charming scene, truly...

He peers into it.]

Are you in here?

[ Bucky points to the darker haired boy that races down the street with the blond. ]

Yeah. Long time ago now though.

Aww. Ain't you a trig-looking cully.

[That means "smart-looking kid." Hush. Even he's feeling the strain from being in dreams all day.]

[ He gives him a look out of the corner of his eye and then shuts the door. ]

Where're you from?

Nowhere to speak of. A kingdom. A country.

You a riddle guy? I never liked 'em.

Mayhap. It's a pity you don't. I've always liked them.

Is this just a big riddle to you?

Why--I think it is!

Maybe you shouldn't go through anymore doors.

Should I not?

No.

You should leave.

But I think I rather like it here.

Well, I don't like you here.

Too bad.

Don't you need to ask first?