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[notapilot]

 Sam's thoughts have been chaos lately and so he is sitting by the fireplace and knitting. Conversations are welcome, however.

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[herr_bookman]

Autor spots him from across the room. He tucks his book--The Long Shadow by David Reynolds--under his arm and gestures to the knitting as he approaches. "That's good work. How long have you been knitting?"

[notapilot]

Sam looks up briefly to identify the speaker and then returns to the row. Can't loose count, right?

"A few years actually. I picked it up as a sort of therapy and found I rather enjoyed it. Helps clear the head. You?"

[OOC: Disclaimer, I know little of knitting.]

[herr_bookman]

"A couple of years," the boy says, nodding at his work. "I've never thought about it as a therapy, though I suppose it would work that way. I am Autor, a music student."

[OOC: You're in good company, then. I know nothing.]

[notapilot]

"Music can be another good release," Sam replies, finishing his row. He sets the needles aside on the table so he can offer his hand. "Sam Wilson. Don't know that I'm a student of any...life i guess, though I do like a good song now and then."

[herr_bookman]

Autor doesn't normally shake hands, though he's told himself that he probably should. He shakes Sam's this time.

"Few people around here are students, I've found," the boy says, adjusting his glasses. "What do you do back home?"

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"Sam!" Steve says cheerfully and joins him by the fireplace. He's fresh from a workout, and has the shield on a harness on his back.

The knitting gets a faint smile. Hey, he's darned socks.

"How are you doing today?"

[notapilot]

"Hey Steve," he replies with a smile, half standing for a hug. Who cares if it's only been a few hours or days or whatever since he's seen him. "Pretty good. A little wound up, but working on relaxing so I can think straight. You?"

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve hugs him back. "Much better now that I've beaten a punching bag into submission.

"What are you wound up about?" with an undercurrent of Can I help?

[notapilot]

"Oh, anxious to get started looking for your buddy. I have my affairs in order, though I've still a couple cases I need to find care for. But I'm at a point where I can drop everything when we get a lead."

"I also decided to volunteer here with the Infirmary, and I'm a little worried about how much I can commit since you can never tell when your door's gonna show right?"

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"Your door comes and goes?" Steve looks at it worriedly -- nope, still there.

"I'm anxious to find him out there, too. But we talk while we're here, so that's a start. I kind of hope he'll get comfortable enough with me to find me in our world, but I don't think that's a realistic expectation."

A beat.

"I did tell you he comes here, right?"

[protect_and_survey]

(OOC: So, tagging with this gal - good idea, bad idea, or 'bad-idea-lets-do-it' idea?)

[notapilot]

[OOC: Let's do it! Sam's not thinking SHIELD but if it goes there we can figure something out.]

[protect_and_survey]

"Oh, good evening!" There aren't many people Jemma knows are from here world that come here, so it makes sense to greet the ones that do, especially when they're camped out in one of your favorite spots. She takes the other chair, clinging to her mug of tea.

[notapilot]

He looks up with his tongue poking out between his teeth (counting stitches is important) and raises his eyebrows in greeting. Once he is actually through counting, all is proper, he smiles and looks up at her properly.

"It is a good evening. I hope it's one for you, too?"

[protect_and_survey]

"I finally got one of my drudge projects done, which is always a reason to celebrate." She smiles, settling into the chair.

[notapilot]

"Always," Sam says more warmly now that he recognizes her finally. It's been a few years for him. "It's been a while for me. Simmons wasn't it?"

[protect_and_survey]

"Yes," She smiles, pleased - its always nice to be remembered. "Staff-Sergeant Wilson, correct? I hope you didn't have any further trouble with that head."

She did grin a bit when it showed up at her lab, though she's pretty sure Fury would have kittens if he found out the route that particular head had taken.

[nerves_of_ice]

His arm's operating at full efficiency again; the intel's come through, the target's in place, and the timing's right.

It's time to bite the bullet... or in his case, to fire it.



There's a question of how long it'll be before he makes it back to somewhere that lets him access Milliways. Steve's already on the hunt for him, James knows, but if he just vanishes from the end of the universe as well as from the world they grew up in -- that's a kind of cruelty he doesn't want to commit. Not unless he has to.

But today, he doesn't have to; today, a simple note will do.

He makes it all of two steps inside before the sight of a familiar face brings him to an instant stop.

James moves to the side, into as much shelter as the crowd can bring him, and considers his options.

[notapilot]

Steve moved on about half an hour ago, leaving Sam with his thoughts again. His knitting is turning to something resembling a scarf now and he's pretty focused on it. Which is why he doesn't note anybody disappearing back in the crowd.

Well, that and the fact he's not trained that way.

[nerves_of_ice]

The question -- one of the questions, anyway -- is whether or not the guy's here from the same point in time as he and Steve are.

... or, for that matter, if it's the same guy, given how things around here run.

There's really only one good way to answer that, and he's not inclined to beat around the bush. James maneuvers his way through the bar's patrons until he's able to approach from a better angle.

Silently, he waits for a knot of people to pass... then steps forward into the clear, right in the guy's line of sight, and waits for his reaction.

[notapilot]

Sam's reaction time is decent, well decent if you aren't a meta-human. Once he does spot Bucky, he pauses; thinking of options. Waving a wait rat over, he hands over the knitting (fearing Bucky might think them weapons) and orders a plate of nachos. Food is always good for awkward meetings.

That done, he turns in his seat to face Bucky's head on and opens his hands in invitation, gesturing to either seat nearby.

[hecu_marine]

Sam, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but there's some kind of three legged blue striped ham-shaped creature standing on one foot not far away, and if that shiny mass on its forward end is eyes, it's looking at you.

(There's a human in a bluegray sweater and black trousers and a Marine Corps-regulation high-and-tight haircut not far behind the thing, but he's busy getting something from one of the waitrats just this second.)

[notapilot]

Sam freezes in his knitting and stares at the thing that maybe is staring at him? He's ready to leap over the seat if it makes a threatening move.

Any thoughts of other patrons have fled his awareness.

[OOC: Placeholder until I clean my inbox more at work.]

[hecu_marine]

It blinks at him. At least, a ring of muscle contracts from all sides at once over that wet-blackberry compound eye before retracting again.

"Fuck's sake, Chester, you botherin' people again? Git down and quit starin' at the man, he ain't gonna play with you."

That'd be the man in the high-and-tight, and it seems effective; 'Chester' drops down to all threes and shakes just like a wet dog shedding water from its coat.

"Sorry 'bout that," says the man. "He didn't mean no harm. That there was his kind's version of a dog sniffin' somebody new, is all."

[notapilot]

"That's okay," Sam allows with some hesitation. "Guess I'm still new to the whole alien thing."

He looks up at the speaker than and offers a friendly nod. Gesturing to his hair, he asks, "Marine or just like the look?"