James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nerves_of_ice) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
milliways_bar2017-02-01 06:01 pm
nerves_of_ice) wrote in milliways_bar2017-02-01 06:01 pm
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(no subject)
Another day, another city. He's not sure how long he'll be in this one - weeks, maybe a month or two, if he's lucky. He hasn't been lucky for a half-year or so now, but there's nothing to do about that except stay ready, and move when he needs to.
He'd picked the apartment because it was high up in the building. He prefers it that way; it lets him watch from various angles and lines of sight when he needs to, and gives him quick access to the roof and escape.
Not that he can see much from inside at the moment, of course, having just finished taping newspaper -- multiple thicknesses -- over the windows. It helps; the lines of text and distortion of blurry newsprint photos disguise any shadows that he might cast from within.
James takes a moment to look around. It's got everything he needs; sleeping bag unrolled on the cheap mattress in the corner, the windows (now covered), washroom no bigger than a closet, kitchenette barely bigger than that, even complete with the unimaginable luxury of a full-size fridge...
... ah. Food. Right.
He's not hungry, but food's the fuel that's necessary to keep going. It's too late to go to the market now, though. Instead, he goes to the apartment door, and opens it into Milliways.
He'd picked the apartment because it was high up in the building. He prefers it that way; it lets him watch from various angles and lines of sight when he needs to, and gives him quick access to the roof and escape.
Not that he can see much from inside at the moment, of course, having just finished taping newspaper -- multiple thicknesses -- over the windows. It helps; the lines of text and distortion of blurry newsprint photos disguise any shadows that he might cast from within.
James takes a moment to look around. It's got everything he needs; sleeping bag unrolled on the cheap mattress in the corner, the windows (now covered), washroom no bigger than a closet, kitchenette barely bigger than that, even complete with the unimaginable luxury of a full-size fridge...
... ah. Food. Right.
He's not hungry, but food's the fuel that's necessary to keep going. It's too late to go to the market now, though. Instead, he goes to the apartment door, and opens it into Milliways.
no subject
"Understood. You can reach?"
She's already moving in that direction, looking for the closest dumpster that will let her reach the pulled-up fire escape ladder.
"I will come up, too. From below. I do not know if he will be fooled by a pincer."
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He's already moving, strides lengthening into a run across the rooftop, then up and over to the next building. He tucks and rolls through the landing, then picks up the pace a second time.
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X takes her own running jump, leaping up onto the half-closed lid of the dumpster and grabbing the first fire escape platform and pulling herself up.
Climbing the building wall may actually be quieter than using the stairs. Hmm.
"He likes that."
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"... you've got to be kidding me." A beat. "I'll leave that part to you."
He approaches the top of the fire escape with care, making no sudden movements that might alert the feline below.
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(Spider-man would be proud.)
"Too. Practice helps."
Steve McQueen, meanwhile, lolls out on the fire escape, absorbing every particle of heat in the metal and in the sun shining directly on this spot.
Heaven.
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Descend from above or stay where he is and adapt if the cat flees? Hard to say. He settles for easing over the parapet wall and onto the top of the fire escape, stopping on the first platform.
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Beat.
"Please."
There's no grunt of effort in her voice. Shockingly.
"I will be there soon."
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Steve McQueen doesn't seem alarmed, and from this vantage point he has an excellent line of sight in case of unexpected events.
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She is very quiet.
"Steve," she says at last, voice patient and a little softer than usual. Just around the edges.
"Please do not make me chase you."
Steve McQueen yawns. Widely. Hi, X. This sun is much warmer than what your apartment offers.
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Sudden tension threads through his tone, although he remains perfectly still.
"Ground level, to your left. Stray dog, heading towards you."
But surely a cat up in the air above a dog won't worry about it, right?
Right?