He opened his mouth to object, because even though he didn't remember everything, he was sure there was some rule in there about not letting a lady take a couch if there was a bed to choose from. His gaze shifted to the window momentarily. It would need to be covered up, of course. The likelihood of anyone finding them out here was small, but not impossible, and while a cover wouldn't stop someone from coming through the glass, it would at least make them wonder if it was worth the trouble it might cause if they couldn't be assured their target was inside.
Bucky glanced back at her when she started telling him about the books she owned. Reading was one of the few things he still did regularly. There were enough free book boxes around the world that he'd managed to read nearly two hundred since he escaped from HYDRA. He found himself drawn to science fiction and reading War of the Worlds had left him with strong feelings of deja vu, which he assumed meant he'd read it at some point before even if he had no recollection of doing so. None of the books appeared to be sci-fi, but that was okay, too. He liked variety just fine.
It wasn't that he disliked the clothes that she'd tried to talk him into. It was that he'd learned that the best way to blend in and go unnoticed was to go with the neutral and darker shades of clothes. Baggy made it easier to hide the arm. He wondered, idly, where she'd gotten the money to buy everything from, but he also figured it wasn't really any of his business.
Bucky met her eyes when she smirked and winked at him, suggesting he bathe, and well. She had a point. Another way he'd managed to fly under the radar was by not bathing as often as he wanted. People, after all, didn't tend to look directly at anyone they suspected was homeless or poor.
"Right," he muttered, crossing the hallway and slipping into the bathroom. Locking the door was instinct, and he spent nearly the full half hour standing under the hot water. When he emerged, he was dressed in clean clothes -- jeans and a dark navy Henley, no socks or shoes on his feet, hair still wet, but clean.
no subject
Bucky glanced back at her when she started telling him about the books she owned. Reading was one of the few things he still did regularly. There were enough free book boxes around the world that he'd managed to read nearly two hundred since he escaped from HYDRA. He found himself drawn to science fiction and reading War of the Worlds had left him with strong feelings of deja vu, which he assumed meant he'd read it at some point before even if he had no recollection of doing so. None of the books appeared to be sci-fi, but that was okay, too. He liked variety just fine.
It wasn't that he disliked the clothes that she'd tried to talk him into. It was that he'd learned that the best way to blend in and go unnoticed was to go with the neutral and darker shades of clothes. Baggy made it easier to hide the arm. He wondered, idly, where she'd gotten the money to buy everything from, but he also figured it wasn't really any of his business.
Bucky met her eyes when she smirked and winked at him, suggesting he bathe, and well. She had a point. Another way he'd managed to fly under the radar was by not bathing as often as he wanted. People, after all, didn't tend to look directly at anyone they suspected was homeless or poor.
"Right," he muttered, crossing the hallway and slipping into the bathroom. Locking the door was instinct, and he spent nearly the full half hour standing under the hot water. When he emerged, he was dressed in clean clothes -- jeans and a dark navy Henley, no socks or shoes on his feet, hair still wet, but clean.