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[nerves_of_ice]

The new armor fits well under his clothing, which is good for when he needs to blend in.

It also works perfectly well on its own, which is good for days like this when he wants to get in a significant amount of work in the gym. He can't afford to lose his edge, not for an instant.

(At least this time he's set up his own practice dummy for the throwing knives, to go along with the heavy bag for the rest.)



Some time later, he settles down in a corner of the bar with a cup of black coffee and a sandwich. He keeps an eye on the room as he eats, just in case.



[ooc: catch him in either location.]

Comments

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve is also in a workout mood today, with his shield on his back and a bag with his street clothes slung over his shoulder.

It's good to see Bucky in the gym. He puts his things down on a bench and waits there until there's a break in the knife-throwing to say, "Hey, Buck."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Steve. Hey."

He straightens up and turns to face him.

"How's it going?"

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"World's still standing. The new team's coming along great.

"How are you doing?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Still standing," he agrees, and leaves it at that.

"How's that one girl holding up - the one who lost her twin?"

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"Wanda," Steve says and moves to the punching bag nearest Bucky. "She seems to be okay, all things considered. I think it's good she's got something to keep her occupied. She's got -- what's it called -- telekinetic powers, so we spend a lot of time working on that. Control, mostly."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Uh-huh. So long as you're not the target."

He collects the throwing knives, stowing them in the hidden places in the new armor before the next round. It helps, to be able to test how easy it'll be for him to access them on the run.

"Figure you know what you're doing, though." A beat. "You always seemed to with us."

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve neither confirms nor denies whether he is usually the target during practice.

*cough*

"Thanks," he says simply. Then, "What've you got under your clothes?"

[wayward_sun]

A new guy walks up and orders a Vietnamese sandwich and a large whiskey.

He's expensively dressed, well groomed, and his smile - when he looks around the room - is blinding.

He also empties his glass lime it contained water and has a refill straight away.

(His movements are smooth and elegant. )

[nerves_of_ice]

He watches the newcomer carefully, sizing him up.

(It's a useful thing to do with anyone he doesn't recognize. You never know who's going to walk into this place.)

Some sort of businessman, maybe. Or politician.

[wayward_sun]

The guy catches his eyes and directs the bright smile at him.

"Hi."

British. Pleasant voice.
Really carefully groomed stubble.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Hi."

In contrast, his American accent is clear, if unmarked by any regional indicators, and his manner is ... well, neutral.

[wayward_sun]

Lucifer settles down and says, "I don't think I've seen you around before. New?"

Affably.

[nerves_of_ice]

"I come and go," he replies.

"You?"

[katyafeline]

There's a jingle of silver bangles, the creak of stretched jeans, a slosh of (very) alcohol liquid in its bottle.

And now a Katya sat sprawled across from him, flicking a frosty bottlecap from her equally frosty bottle of vodka across the table towards him.

"Hullo, Lyosha."

[nerves_of_ice]

He catches it in his right hand and tosses it back at her with a quick grin.

"Katya. Been a while."

[katyafeline]

"I bet you haven't even missed me." She mock-huffs, catching the bottle cap again and setting it to spin on the table top. "It is terribly tragic, there should be poetry."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I should take that bet."

He seems amused.

"I'm not much of a poet. How about a drink instead?"

[katyafeline]

"You want me to add vodka to your coffee?" She asks, a bit dubiously, as if this were a crime against the vodka.

Because it is.

[nerves_of_ice]

He gives her a disbelieving look.

"Are you kidding?"

She must be.

[notapilot]

Sam comes in the gym after his run for some stretching, and freezes when he spots Bucky. Letting the weighted dummy pack slip to the floor, he leaves the armor on for now.

Then sighing, and shaking his head, he says, "I guess you might as well know, I'm not on your tail any more. Back home."

Sam isn't even sure if he was making enough headway to even be noticed by Bucky, truth be told.

[OOC: Hope it's not too late. I watched CA:CW over the weekend and was reminded of the frenemies.]

[nerves_of_ice]

He eyes the other man.

"No?"

The single word is somehow dry as dust.

[ooc: never too late!]

[notapilot]

[OC: OMG, how did I forget this? Bad mun. I understand if you want to drop.]

"Yah. Steve's got me working with new group of Avengers." Then, because he's Sam and annoyed, "Of course, I could just be saying that. False sense of security and all that."

[nerves_of_ice]

"It wouldn't be false," he drawls. "After all, you didn't find me when you were looking."

A beat of silence, as the corner of his mouth quirks -- very slightly.

"But don't beat yourself up about it. You're not the only one."


[ooc: not a problem at all. let's see where this takes us!]

[notapilot]

Oh, is that how it is?

Sam's eyebrows knit and wrinkle.

"It's not like I was trained for that kind of thing. Or had some super soldier juice or, you know, a metal arm."

So unfair.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Just metal wings."

He's not quite smirking.

"Eyes in the sky, as it were."