[ They sit a while, Bucky's hand absently petting and Steve's tails serving as a sentry behind his back. Adamant as he might've been about needing to get stuff done, about how a twenty minute rest wouldn't do anything to ease the ache, he takes it anyway.
Just twenty, though, because he's got things he's gotta do to make this safe. Make it less miserable. He's gone for about an hour and a half, a rifle slung over his back while he blacks out windows with whatever he finds around. Paper or blood or soot. He heads back to that PRESERVE set-up to pack up something to make a couple bedrolls.
Gets twice what he might normally bring Steve to eat, because whatever species he is right now is goddamn large.
A box of checkers, because why the hell not?
Still puzzling out the logistics of how in the hell he's gonna drink, but they'll cross that bridge when they come to it.
He sets up camp in the furthest corner from that door with broken glass. Tops it off with a small battery powered lantern, and there's no denying the setup's better than some of the ones they've had in the past. Maybe some of the ones they've had this week, considering the lack of a dozen muttering, nervous people.
Sometime after sundown when he's run out of quips like think they make collars your size, after they've eaten and the sounds off distant chaos drifting over the building tops has decreased with nightfall, he settles up against the wall with his left arm propped up on his knee again.
It's quiet.
He searches through the implant for news, updates, anything relevant. Doesn't look much better now than it did two days ago. ]
no subject
Just twenty, though, because he's got things he's gotta do to make this safe. Make it less miserable. He's gone for about an hour and a half, a rifle slung over his back while he blacks out windows with whatever he finds around. Paper or blood or soot. He heads back to that PRESERVE set-up to pack up something to make a couple bedrolls.
Gets twice what he might normally bring Steve to eat, because whatever species he is right now is goddamn large.
A box of checkers, because why the hell not?
Still puzzling out the logistics of how in the hell he's gonna drink, but they'll cross that bridge when they come to it.
He sets up camp in the furthest corner from that door with broken glass. Tops it off with a small battery powered lantern, and there's no denying the setup's better than some of the ones they've had in the past. Maybe some of the ones they've had this week, considering the lack of a dozen muttering, nervous people.
Sometime after sundown when he's run out of quips like think they make collars your size, after they've eaten and the sounds off distant chaos drifting over the building tops has decreased with nightfall, he settles up against the wall with his left arm propped up on his knee again.
It's quiet.
He searches through the implant for news, updates, anything relevant. Doesn't look much better now than it did two days ago. ]