spoopy meetcute

[counterstep]

Passengers: Grace Gibson and Bucky Barnes.
Location: Bucky's Room, Warden Room 104
Date: Jan 29
Summary: Spook and Spooky have a meetcute.
Warnings: n/a


( as promised, bucky spends the rest of the day in his room going over the materials he's downloaded to his communicator and continuing his research. while he isn't in any particular rush to meet this grace gibson that has joined their number, he can't help but also wonder what exactly she means about her abilities.

could it be that in the time she was dead something had been done to her? that a secret was withheld in her absence, and so all she knows is what was told to her? would the people around her be honest enough? her naïveté seems to indicated otherwise, a restricted life that left her trusting, easy enough for silco to twist the truth and for her to believe it. though the circumstances are nothing alike, bucky can't help but feel defensive on her behalf, as he would were she rebecca. adults taking advantage of the young never sits well with him.

he's still reading whenever she chooses to come by. )

Comments

[counterstep]

The other thing of note about his room is really how untouched it looks aside from the bed not being made.

She wrings her hands, and he spares a glance, not having seen the gesture in a while. Whatever she's gone through must have left this mark, fraught apologies and wary self-consciousness driving her thoughts and actions. The poor thing. She's certainly far too sweet to have deserved something so damning.

"You're not another to the pile. Don't worry." Bucky offers an easy smile, a friendly cant of his head. "Everything in there already is far worse than anything you've made me feel."

Reaching forward, he tries to offer a reassuring touch to her shoulder, though whether or not it actually comforts is a question of its own. Bucky doesn't let it linger, afraid he might scare her off or offend her by taking the liberty so freely. It's impolite, anyway.

"They're not too bad, though. Strangers. They're different, but they don't have expectations either. Of who I'm supposed to be, or who you should be. We have blank slates here, yeah, and no one is familiar right off the bat. But we have more control of who we want to be here than somewhere where we're already known. At least, that's what I think."

[expectaspectre]

He alludes to something negative in his mind, and she's about to shut down that kind of talk immediately-- he's been nothing but considerate and kind to her, after all-- but then he thoughtlessly reaches out, a reassuring tap on the shoulder.

She freezes in place. It's all she can do to keep from flinching back out of reach. Normal people do that, she thinks, he doesn't know. He doesn't know. It's a moment before she remembers to breathe again. She turns, pretends to be fascinated by a fake plant or something, while her face turns a selection of unflattering colors.

"People know you, then? Back home?" She clears her throat a little-- it comes out slightly croaky. Like the ghost of a frog. "Or who they think you are?"

[counterstep]

He swallows at the question, wonders if it even matters at this point. "I had someone who really knew. Before. He's. He left, though."

The problem of it all, really. Maybe if Steve hadn't gone, he would have stayed, wouldn't have wanted to be elsewhere entirely when the opportunity presented itself. Even the lure of space pales at the sight of seeing Steve happy. Nothing brought that anymore though. Not really. Not since the war. Bucky's own safety was a necessity, and they both know they're far too different from the men they were before the war to go back to what once was.

"The rest think they know. But they don't."

[expectaspectre]

He left. The way he says it speaks volumes more than the words themselves. Is this why he came? Was there nothing-- or no one-- left for him, back home? Grace turns back to face him, to look him in the eye.

"And you'd rather nobody know you at all than everyone knowing the wrong thing. I get that." Grace smiles, tucks her legs up underneath her in a curled-up sitting position, hands laid gently in her lap-- which now hovers in midair. As if it's the most normal thing in the world. As if knowing a truth about James has allowed her to relax, somehow.

But she'd already told him over the network what she could do, and he wasn't afraid of her (yet, always yet), so what did she have to hide? It's how she'd like to be known. The reality of her. He should understand that.

[counterstep]

"Yeah. That's. Yeah." He chuckles to himself, offering a smile. It takes a moment for the fact she's now floating in air to register, and when he does, Bucky just raises a brow, chuckles again, and admires the space between where she sits and the ground. She had warned him after all.

"Damn, that's real neat. Can you fly and all that too? Like Superman or something." His gaze flicks back to meet hers as a fascinated beam starts to split his face.

[expectaspectre]

It's half a beat before she realizes he's not freaked out (and actually seems to be reacting with a little bit of wonder, childlike, which is charming and she's trying not to think about that). Sheepishly, she smiles down at her hands.

"Not exactly the same, maybe, but I can go pretty fast. They clocked me at 65 miles an hour once!" It's not often she gets to brag about her abilities-- people are usually so unsettled, it's hard to convince them that no, actually, it's extremely cool, what I can do when they're trying to get away from her as quickly as possible. In fact, it's a little uncomfortable, as evidenced by the color that just won't leave her cheeks-- time to redirect. "What about you?"

[counterstep]

Sixty-five is damn fast, especially for someone who grew up with cars that maxed around that. Her enthusiasm only adds to his, and he feels rather giddy, being able to discuss anything like this at all. Truly a wonder, when it's been years since he's been awake for only a few to have managed. Shuri being the last person who has comes to mind.

"That's nothing to scoff at! You could race a cheetah at that speed! You ever, y'know, fly along with birds just to see what it's like? Join the v-formation? It's not flying, but I can top out running about eighty to ninety." Miles per hour. "Improved reflexes and muscle control. That kind thing."

[expectaspectre]

The idea of racing cheetahs and joining in on a bird migration makes her laugh-- genuinely, because it's literally never occurred to her before. But likely she couldn't; animals tend to react poorly to her presence, and the last thing she'd want to do is scare some birds off course or piss off a hungry cheetah. Still, the image is something.

"That's amazing! And useful! I didn't get any of that. Nothing physical, anyway. I mean, besides this..."

Grace unfolds her legs (she could float in her sitting position, it doesn't make a difference, it just feels wrong, somehow) and hovers over to a side table. She spares a glance over her shoulder, hesitating.

"Don't freak out."

And she shifts, the edges of her form becoming wispy, dissolving, like smoke into the air. Her colors fade out, the details of her blur, and the contrast of her cranks up, like slipping into shadow in a dimly lit room, but she hasn't moved.

Then she does; she floats, uncannily, directly through the table. Once on the other side, she sticks her arm through the wall and wiggles it around, just for emphasis. She smiles-- wider, a line pulling across her stark face-- and just like that, she's back, normal, just a girl hovering a few inches off the ground, like nothing happened.