(no subject)

[nerves_of_ice]

Another night in another city; another night in which he finds himself once more lying awake and staring at the ceiling.

At least this time not all the dreams were nightmares.


After a while, he gets up. Moving silently in the darkness of his rented room, James Barnes heads for the door, taking his journal from the top of the fridge as he goes.

He opens it to Milliways, and scans the room briefly before taking a seat at a table off to the side. Frowning with concentration, he flips to a blank page and begins to write - slowly, with frequent pauses for thought.

Eventually a waitrat brings him a cup of coffee. He thanks it absently, in Russian, and continues his painstaking work.



[ooc: Bucky is still several months before Civil War. Yes, I have seen it, but there are no spoilers here, I promise.

Open to all until it scrolls or I note otherwise. Thanks!]

Comments

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve pops into the bar sometimes, looks around*, and pops out again.

Today, that pleased little smile crosses his face, and he closes the door to his apartment behind him.

"Hey, Buck."


*for Bucky. Shh.

[nerves_of_ice]

He stops writing with the pen still on the page and looks up at Steve.



"Hey."

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

He's about to pull out a chair when he says instead, "Mind if I join you?"

Because there's best friend privileges and then there's being an obnoxious pain in the butt.

...not that Steve minds being an obnoxious pain in the butt. Sometimes it's very useful.

[hasthehighground]

[ooc: Just rewatched Winter Soldier to prep for seeing Civil War tomorrow. ;___; Buckyyyyy. *hugs him, and you*]

[nerves_of_ice]

[ooc: yyyyyyyyyyep. know the feeling! *hugs back lots*]

[runningred]

Jay looks up from his own pot of coffee and notebook at the sound of James' voice. He gives him a nod but doesn't disturb him. Unless he's in the mood for distraction.

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods back, and raises his eyebrows at the sight of the other man's notebook.

"Hey."

[runningred]

"How's it going?" He ask, pouring some more coffee. Of the thick back Turkish kind that the spoon almost stands up in.

[cutting_edgex23]

X approaches, quick and quiet until she's within twenty feet, then starts making noise.

Just a few footfalls, honestly.

"James."

Beat.

"Hello."

[nerves_of_ice]

He looks up from the page where he's crossed out three words and blotched the ink, and gives her a nod.

"Joe. Hey."

[cutting_edgex23]

She barely hesitates before sitting down.

Carefully.

"You have been busy?"

Beat.

"At home."

[2goodarms]

During one of those pauses for thought: "Hey, man."

Curtis, bearing his own cup of coffee, pauses by James's table. (Notebook, look of ocncentration like Painter'd get sometimes when he was working on a really complex sketch -- yeah, he's gonna hold off on sitting down for a minute.) "How's it going?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Curtis. Hey."

He glances down at his journal, grimaces at it, and looks back up at the other man.

"Slowly."

[onceaviking]

A vampire walks by and then stops, seemingly amused by the Russian.

[nerves_of_ice]

James casts a flat look at him.

[starrydome]

There is an elf lord coming in through the door. He's dressed for hunting in what is still a cold and long winter at home, so the Bar is not an unwelcome sight.

He looks around for someplace to sit and remove his winterwear, but he is loathe to disturb someone at work.

[nerves_of_ice]

The flicker of movement catches his eye, and he looks up from the page where he's struggling to find the right word.

After a second or two, he nods to the other man, then glances pointedly at the empty seat across from him.

[harryhotspur]

[ooc: if you're still taking more!]

Here's a person you definitely always want around for painstaking work: Harry Percy, stamping in from outside with a not-inconsiderable amount of dirt on his person and a distinct aroma of horse. He tugs off his gloves and tosses them onto a table as he passes en route to the bar, not really noticing (with that exquisite sort of carelessness surely only the aristocracy possesses) that someone may already be sitting there.

[nerves_of_ice]

[ooc: absolutely!]

He doesn't startle. His cool, assessing glance moves from the gloves on the table up to the man who's tossed them there.




"You dropped something."

[i_am_your_host]

At some point, a pale, slight man with kohl-lined eyes and ink-black hair in an undercut glides up to the bar. He's wearing a black leather trench coat and beat-up German-issue army boots. And when he orders a glass of gin, it's with a rough Berliner dialect.

It's not exactly clear what year he's from, but the where is obvious.

[nerves_of_ice]

Yes. Yes it is.

The accent gets his attention fast. He watches the other man closely -- and openly -- taking in everything about his appearance.

[electro_kinetic]

Bucky is forgiven for not knowing who the hell the blue-haired Asian boy curled into a chair is--though try not to overthink it, the hair and the gloves are a giveaway--as they're both writing fairly studiously. (The sex change experiment hasn't been as smooth as she assumed it would be, it's been a little thought-provoking.)

"What're you writing about?" she--different body, same brain, still thinks like a girl--asks, looking up from the list she's making.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Whatever comes to mind."

He studies the young man, noting the hair color and gloves, and his eyes narrow.

"You look different."

[dejah_thoris]

[ooc: Room for one more?]

[nerves_of_ice]

[ooc: yes, absolutely!]