"Sounds like a fair bet," Bucky agrees. "People don't take kindly to trespassing around here." At least, they hadn't in the past. But he doubts something like this has changed, even with how big open, rural areas have remained. He's too much of a city boy, even now. He listens carefully in the darkness, for anything suspicious. He doesn't hear anything, just the slight wind through the corn.
"There's always something new for us to look for, isn't there?" he mutters, sighing. "I'm glad I'm not the one who has to sort through all of the data," he admits, swinging his leg over the motorcycle. He revs up the engine, though he doesn't exactly fall silent for long. "Makes me glad I'm one of the ones they send in when they don't want anything noticed."
He's a sniper; Bucky is patient, and capable of keeping still long enough that most people would go insane. But to pick apart the mysteries? He'll never do it.
Natasha snorted a soft chuckle before the roar of the bike's engine obscured it. "You don't have the patience for information triage," she teased lightly, giving his torso a brief, quick squeeze. "We use computers for that nowadays."
But her amusement was short-lived, pondering over this new circumstance. Granted, people out to kill her--and Barnes wasn't exactly a small target, himself--wasn't anything new, but why here, in this backwater town? Suddenly she wanted to get back and analyze the drive that she'd filched as soon as possible.
"Give it all you got, soldat--let's get outta here."
He laughs, a breathy huff of a noise. "No. I'm not really a computer guy," Bucky admits. Because it's true, because he barely uses the strange, flat modern devices that people call phones.
Their situation is too tense, though, for him to make many jokes about it. Natasha is right; they need to get out of here as quickly as possible. He presses his foot on the gas, tensing, ready for a fight, even if in the middle of the night in the dark, the chances of them being ambushed again is pretty remote. He hopes so, anyway.
He doesn't stop driving until he's certain the only sound around them, besides the crickets and wind, is the rumble of the bike's engine.
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maskirovka) wrote2018-04-08 02:44 pm
no subject
"There's always something new for us to look for, isn't there?" he mutters, sighing. "I'm glad I'm not the one who has to sort through all of the data," he admits, swinging his leg over the motorcycle. He revs up the engine, though he doesn't exactly fall silent for long. "Makes me glad I'm one of the ones they send in when they don't want anything noticed."
He's a sniper; Bucky is patient, and capable of keeping still long enough that most people would go insane. But to pick apart the mysteries? He'll never do it.
no subject
But her amusement was short-lived, pondering over this new circumstance. Granted, people out to kill her--and Barnes wasn't exactly a small target, himself--wasn't anything new, but why here, in this backwater town? Suddenly she wanted to get back and analyze the drive that she'd filched as soon as possible.
"Give it all you got, soldat--let's get outta here."
no subject
Their situation is too tense, though, for him to make many jokes about it. Natasha is right; they need to get out of here as quickly as possible. He presses his foot on the gas, tensing, ready for a fight, even if in the middle of the night in the dark, the chances of them being ambushed again is pretty remote. He hopes so, anyway.
He doesn't stop driving until he's certain the only sound around them, besides the crickets and wind, is the rumble of the bike's engine.