milliways_bar | (no subject)

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"Go. Go! Take this journal and write down everything you can remember. It will help, I promise you."

"Princess--"

"Do not argue. Find somewhere quiet, where you won't be bothered."

"The kids aren't a bother."

"They are also not quiet."

* * * * * * *

It's been a long time since he's been here, enough that if pressed he couldn't actually say how long. He hadn't exactly meant to come, either, but he'd been thinking about finding somewhere out of the way when he walked out of Shuri's lab, and there's no question that Milliways fits that description better than anywhere else.

About ten minutes later, Bucky Barnes is settled in at one of the quieter booths in the back, the journal open in front of him. (A close observer might notice that each page is subtly embossed with the logo of the Wakandan Design Group.)

He's holding a pen in his right hand and tapping it against the blank page. From time to time he sets down the pen and picks up the cup of coffee waiting beside him instead. A swallow or two later, he repeats the process, swapping cup for pen.

His left hand is immaterial to the whole process, as it's entirely absent. A series of gauze bandages are barely visible under the collar of his shirt, and his left sleeve is neatly pinned shut over where his arm used to be.

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"Floating prison in the middle of the ocean," he says. If Peter doesn't know about this, he needs to, given his own powers. Even if Bucky's beginning to feel like he's kicking a puppy, what with all the rotten news.

"Built for people like the Avengers. People with special abilities. It's a hellhole."

He manages an answering, slightly wry smile of his own.

"Yeah, I'm doing okay."

"Why do they need a prison for the heroes?" Since it sounds like what they've built. Sure, they'd need a place to possibly hold bad guys with powers, but they shouldn't be putting the heroes in there. That sounds like a bad plan.

Shifting to a different topic, he nods toward the missing arm. "Are you gonna get a new arm? Or go like this?"

"Ross doesn't think that anyone who helped me and Steve--"

Who helped Steve, when it comes down to it. Who trusted Steve enough to let him make the call. He's under no illusions that any of them would have put themselves on the line like that for him. Nor should they.

"--is one of the heroes."

He glances at his left shoulder.

"I don't know."

"Who the hell is Ross?" It's just a last name, it doesn't mean a lot. He'd recognize the full name of the Secretary of State. "And what does he know? Was he there? In the field?" Someone may be a little protective of the group of people who saved New York, even if he was in a fight against some of them.

"I do think the metal one is pretty cool. But, anyway - what are you not-writing?"

"The Secretary of State," Bucky tells him. "Personally I think he's a jackass."

He looks down at the journal, then back at Peter.

"Supposedly, everything I remember."

"He sounds like it. I already don't like him."

He nods. "Does this mean you don't remember anything or the things you remember you don't want to?"

"Knew you were a smart guy."

He stares at the blank page for a moment, then looks up at Peter again.

"I remember things. Just not sure how to begin."

"Probably doesn't matter. Just make bullet points. Notes. If you wanna elaborate, do that later." Science nerd - notes first, more stuff later.

"Huh. That's not a bad idea."

He smiles, a little.

"Thanks."

He grins. "Sure. Sometimes just getting the stuff out of your head is the important part."

"So I hear."

He studies Peter for a second.

"So are you free to come and go, or are you stuck here?"

He glances across the room, then back to Bucky. "Looks like I can still leave if I want."

"Good. Being stuck sucks."

"Yeah? I guess. Though, I guess it would depend on how long you're stuck."

Come to think about it, the kid's right. Likely, it's his own issues that make his skin crawl at the thought of being trapped.

"Maybe," he allows. "Could always treat it like a vacation."

He nods agreement. "I mean, this place is pretty awesome. It has hot and cold running milkshakes and places to sleep and cool planes you can fly. And, you never know who might walk in." He makes a motion toward Bucky.

He looks faintly amused at the last, and then the rest of it registers.

"Wait a minute. Planes?"

"I've only been here two minutes and I know. There's like a whole garage - it's huge. And maybe bigger than the Avengers compound? It's got cars and planes and spaceships and stuff. You've never been?" If not, Bucky hasn't met the right people yet.

"No, I've seen the garage." Mostly Jay's workshop and the sparring ring, but still. At the thought, it occurs to him to wonder how Jay's going to react to the loss of his arm.

"I just haven't gone messing with any of the vehicles there."

"Yeah, this guy - uh, Cassian - showed me around and taught me how to fly speeders. Pretty cool." Way more than pretty cool, but he's playing it kinda cool.

Bucky nods.

"I think I ran into him, a while back." He smiles, a little wryly. "Think I could fly a speeder with one arm?"

He sure can't handle a motorcycle very well that way, he's discovered.

"Uh - the land speeder, maybe, but probably not the bike," he answers honestly. "The speeder bike is kinda vaguely bike-ish shaped - obviously. It has handlebars. But the land one is kinda like a car."

"Good to know."

He finishes his coffee and waves down a waitrat for a refill.

"So how'd you end up slinging spiderwebs around, anyway?"

"I made them," he says, cheeky. He knows what Bucky is asking.

"Short version? Bit by some escaped experimental spider."

He mutters something uncomplimentary about careless scientists under his breath.

"Just your luck, huh?"