[Open with Closed prompts] We are all our hands and holders

[silberfuchs]

Who| Albert and various people
What| Doing various plotted things, and also an open prompt!
Where| Around the Tower and maybe in the city
When| Through this week, after the kid's arena (back or forward dated as desired, but not too far forward)
Warnings/Notes| Main post is a general open prompt, character specific prompts are in the comments.

With that awful and thankfully short children-only Arena behind them, Albert has focused on his physical therapy as much as possible. He's walking without a cane entirely now, working out again in the mornings - or rather, the afternoons. Jet still comes up the second the curfew is lifted and they fall asleep together for a few hours. He still feels on edge, like they're simply biding their time until the next Arena, and then the next, rats running the wheels. It's frustrating.

To keep that frustration to manageable levels he tries to find other things to occupy his mind, worthwhile goals. During curfew hours he spends time writing music again, a practice to re-hone his fine motor function with a pen but also calm his mind. During the unconfined hours of the day, in what little time he spends without his husband (or sometimes with Jet), Albert makes other plans with the friends and allies he's made here as well as potentially looking for new ones.

He can be found nearly anywhere around in the afternoon and evening, most often in the Training Center or at the piano in the lobby, testing the strings of notes and chords he'd written the night previous. If anyone wants to join him for training they're welcome to do so, and even if he does seem a little shy, he doesn't mind an audience to his playing either. He needs feedback, of course, or else how will he improve? And if someone has in mind to go out somewhere, or runs into him on the street while purchasing more paper or more raw ingredients for Bruce's habit of stress cooking throughout the night, then he'll usually be pleased to stop for a chat.

Comments

Bucky (MCU)

[silberfuchs]

Today's time at the piano is a bit more pointed than Albert writing his own compositions. Instead, he has an expected audience for a singular purpose; Bucky Barnes, someone who Albert has come to respect as an ally and even consider a friend, needs some help.

Which is why the bench is covered with printed sheet music instead of that written in Albert's own wavering scrawl. It's things like Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller, the Andrews Sisters, things Albert vaguely remembers from the few records American soldiers left with his mother at the end of the war, gifts to celebrate her new baby boy before they left them all to the Soviets. He'd heard this sort of music again much later, sought it out just as he sought out all he'd missed in forty years of being frozen.

But this exercise isn't for Albert at all so he leaves any lamentations or regrets of his past to lie and instead keeps his attention on his friend. "Is there anything in particular you'd like to start with? Dance hall songs? I found some propaganda songs about the War, if you think those would help."

[tookthewheel]

Bucky doesn't feel like he should be here.

He can't help it, doubts are already plaguing his mind as to whether or not this is going to help at all. The fear if disappointment is strong, made worse by the longing and hope that accompanies it, all emotions that he is trying hard to stomp down. Bucky doesn't know why it's so difficult to do, it shouldn't be difficult to do but at least he hasn't backpedaled out of the room immediately after sitting down. Yet.

After being asked the questions he shakes his head, looping his fingers together before finding his voice. "Anything is fine."

[silberfuchs]

"There's no need to be nervous, no pressure at all. You're not obligated to remember anything and there's nothing wrong if you don't." He plays a short scale, warming up his fingers. Despite their being new from the remodeling, he finds he slipped back into adjusting for the lack of feeling quite readily and his playing doesn't suffer too much for it, even if it sounds a bit more technical than emotional now when he does play.

"We'll start with something I know well, if you have no preference." With little fanfare, he begins to play Stormy Weather. It's maybe a little melancholic, but Albert's always been fond of the bittersweet when it comes to Jazz.

[tookthewheel]

He doesn't shrink back into the chair, instead he hunches forwards and over, the hood of his jacket half over his head while his hair hangs in his face. All the reassurance in the world doesn't help him sometimes, not when he wants so badly to remember the good things -- he remembers plenty of the bad already. Bucky knows there were good times in his life, back before the war, back before HYDRA, if only he can remember them.

A small nod and he tries to relax and let himself simply listen to the music. Metal fingers on keys and the sound of the notes from the piano fill the air around him.

Nothing comes to him, there's no flash of memory, no awakening even though at points he feels like he could hum along to the music. Buck's forced to look up at Albert when he finishes it and shake his head. "I... I might know it, I'm not sure."

[silberfuchs]

"Hmm," Albert gives a quiet noise, thinking. "Maybe something more upbeat?"

He plays out the first verse to Swinging on a Star, something he knows was popular in America at the time. He'd looked up billboard hits from the year of this birth onward out of curiosity once and while he doesn't remember most of what was listed, he does remember being surprised that this song was as popular in 1944 as it was.

[tookthewheel]

In 1944 Bucky had been at war, far away from home, slogging through the battlefields of Europe alongside Steve and the Howling Commandos. Not always though, sometimes they'd return to London between deployments, sometimes they'd go out to bars or dance halls and in some of those there'd be the records, brought over from America by some enterprising US soldier.

Albert plays and Bucky listens. That feeling of familiarity lingers once more and by the end he realises that he's tapping his index finger along with the music against his thigh, still, he gains no images with it, he can't even recall what the song was called.

"I don't know if this is going to work." he can't help saying, looking at Albert. How patient could he be? How long until he'd had enough of trying to wake Bucky's memory?

[silberfuchs]

"It doesn't have to. I know it can be frustrating, but maybe we can look at it another way." He shrugs and plays nothing really, just whatever melody that comes to mind as he speaks to Bucky. It's a little more classical than the music he's been playing. An original composition he's been working on, scratching out on paper during the curfew hours.

"You could just approach it as a rediscovery of what music you like in general. Even if you don't remember anything, that alone is a good thing to come away with, to my mind." He turns his attention back to the keys, guiding the melody back towards the 40's. He moves some sheet music around one handed, pulling another popular song to the front and beginning to play.

Thor

[silberfuchs]

Jogging is all well and good - he's gotten steady as a rock on his metallic feet again and the hydraulics there working his legs have him running faster than he could before - but today he's working his upper body instead. Blow after blow lands on the punching bag, Albert not 'stinging like a bee' but instead like a Mack truck, the bag swinging when each punch connects. It's not far, there's no danger of the thing flying off its chains and hitting anyone, but it's noticeable and Albert has to grudgingly admit that he missed being able to hit harder, move faster. It's comforting, even if the augmentations weren't desired.

He takes a short break to wipe down his face with a hand towel, idly taking in who's around the gym this time of day...

wow sorry i lost this

[worldsaway]

The news of Albert and Jet's fate after their wedding had not escaped Thor's ears and eyes. He shared a district with Jet, and though he wasn't close, he felt sympathy for him. Albert he knew better, but he felt much the same about it. He can't imagine it was something they really wanted simply from watching them, but that's how the Capitol works.

He's often in the training center, with all of his frustration ready to be released on unsuspecting punching bags. It was a good way to soothe anger, but it wasn't very challenging. So, when he watches Albert, he can't help but see a challenge there.

"Something amiss?" He asks when Albert takes his break, quirking a brow at him as he approaches. "I often find myself in want of a more lively target." That is most certainly a challenge.

no worries!

[silberfuchs]

"Sometimes, I can see that, yes. I'm not exactly eager to accidentally break someone's nose, however." He gives a tight smile, but it's somewhat self-deprecating, as if he'd been caught doing something he ought not. It's the thought, honestly. His own thought that perhaps having cybernetics again isn't so terrible. The very idea after spending so many decades hating himself for having them feels 'amiss', as Thor put it.

"It may be best for me to keep the bag as my partner until I can master control again."

[worldsaway]

Thor snorts at Albert's worries, shaking his head with his trademark grin. "Perhaps you ought to fight those who have seen worse than a broken nose" His tone is amused, certainly the mark of a man who has suffered worse scrapes in the past. He's sure Albert means to ward him away, but he's intrigued and it shows in his expression.

"A bag will earn you no control. There is no lesson learned where there is no risk." And that's something he's discovered himself many, many times. It took great mistakes to make great changes. "Fight me." He says finally, straightening himself up to his full six feet and six inches with a smug look.

[silberfuchs]

Thor has more than half a foot on him and they're equally as broad so Albert can't say it wouldn't be a challenge. Plus he's seen clips from the Games of Thor in action; cybernetic limbs or not, it's entirely plausible that he couldn't hurt Thor even if he were to try. Still, it's not his opponent that makes him reticent but his own hangups. Here, his limbs are not at best a curiosity and at worst an abomination. Instead he just happens to have metal parts. No one seems to really care very much.

Maybe he should try to live with that.

"Alright, you've convinced me," he leaves off the punching bag, moving to a more open area of the training floor, tiled with firm mats that offer footing but are still designed to cushion a fall. "I'd love to see a demonstration of what Asgard has to offer."

[worldsaway]

Thor is confident that he won't be in too much trouble. Even if he does manage to wound him somehow, it seems as if they're adept enough with medicine here to have him feel reassured. That said, he doesn't know much or Albert, nor of his limbs. He's admired Bucky's from time to time, but he hadn't thought much on the psychological impacts of it. All he saw was a man who looked like he needed a little help adjusting.

"So soon?" He quirks his eyebrow, a wry smile on his lips as he flexes his fingers and rolls his shoulders. "With weapons or fists?" He's sure Albert would prefer to make use of his arms, but it may also ease his mind to have Thor fight him with a sword or something similar.

Stephen Reagan

[silberfuchs]

Going through his routine is one thing, but there's something else that's been pressing at the back of Albert's mind. Cyrus hadn't said it overtly, he's too smooth for that, but it seems to Albert that the man had orchestrated them getting remodeled. He has no proof though, and when the cyborg happens to catch sight of the younger Reagan on the street, he decides to find out.

"Excuse me, Mister Reagan?" He jogs over so as not to miss the other man, making absolutely no threatening motion at all. Not unless Stephen does first. He has no idea if the brothers are as disparate as Thor and Loki or if they're of like mind and he intends to find at least that out first before giving anything much away.

Re: Stephen Reagan

[capitolprivilege]

Stephen turns and, when he sees who it is, breaks into a smile. Of course he knows who Albert is -- anyone who was anyone came to that wedding.

"That's my brother," he says cheerily. "If you're looking for him, good luck. He's not always easy to get ahold of."

--says Stephen I-Can-Drop-In-To-Cyrus-Reagan's-Apartment-Any-Time-I-Please Reagan.

"But if you're looking for me, I'd love to know how I can help you."

[silberfuchs]

If he knew his and Jet's wedding was the social event of the season, Albert might have been too mortified to approach. Luckily, he'd been too tied up in what the day actually meant to him and his partner to think about that too much. Still, this has at least a little to do with that. At least, that night.

"No, I think I've impinged on your brother's time more than enough. Actually, that's something I'd like to talk to you about. Rumor has it you have his ear, is that correct?" Of course it is. They're brothers. Granted brothers can be estranged but even with what little he knows of the Reagans he has no reason to believe that's the case.

[capitolprivilege]

Concern flickers across Stephen's face. He has two reactions at once: the first and strongest one comes from years of being Cyrus Reagan's brother. It's defensiveness, wariness, a question of what are you really after? It's not the first time someone's tried to get to his brother through him, and it's not something Stephen likes. Stephen Reagan, who has been unknowingly manipulated all his life, doesn't like being used.

The second, though, is newer: it is both sympathy for the Tributes and recognition that his brother is at the very least complicit in some ugly things. It is the second feeling that keeps Stephen where he is, that makes him willing to hear Albert out. If a Capitolite had tried that, Stephen would have brushed him or her off.

"Is there a problem?"

Nice and neutral: not a promise of action, but not a denial, either.

[silberfuchs]

"No, no a problem. I just wanted to know for certain whether he coordinated my husband and my wedding present or not." By way of explanation, Albert removes his sunglasses, revealing the metallic crescent under his left eye.

"My conversation with him after the, um... delivery proved unreliable to finding out if it was his idea or not. He can apparently be a little bashful." A slight grin at that, inwardly knowing that it's not bashfulness that keeps Cyrus speaking doublespeak, but an honest belief that he doesn't have to answer to anyone but himself and President Snow.

[capitolprivilege]

Ah. That.

Stephen's brows furrow. It's true, Cyrus had made an offhand comment to him about being involved with the decision, but why is Albert so interested in finding out for sure whether or not Cyrus had been involved?

Is it a good idea for Stephen to say anything? he wonders. Sympathetic or not, Stephen doesn't want to put Cyrus in any danger. An angry Tribute with nothing to lose is very dangerous.

However...Stephen doesn't think Albert has nothing to lose. Quite the opposite. And besides, the way Cyrus had talked about it made it seem like it wasn't a secret. Cyrus wasn't trying to hide it.

"I wouldn't say it was his idea," says Stephen slowly, "but I won't pretend he wasn't involved with the decision. I don't know who proposed it -- he hasn't discussed it with me in any kind of detail -- but from what he has told me, he was in favor of going through with it." It's the truth: spoken cautiously, of course, but without any attempt at deception.

Jet, and later Terezi

[silberfuchs]

The start of curfew is always a damper on Albert's day. After Jet had gotten rejected for a pass, the German hadn't even thought to try considering he doesn't want to owe the Capitol any favors. They say goodnight as always, Albert's kiss perhaps a little too lingering than is chaste for the hall outside the District 2 suites, then he takes the elevator up to 3 with a drawn out sigh, preparing for another sleepless night.

[metalicarus]

Jet can still feel the kiss on his lips even as he walks away and into his suite. He wanted to run over and kiss his husband senseless for leaving his lips tingling like that...but Jet had a surprise for his German and that would ruin it, so he resisted. All in good time.

Jet gathered up his stuff again -just enough for the night and tomorrow, the rest he could get later- and slung the bag over his shoulder. A gentle purring started up from the corner of the room and a grin bloomed on his face. One last thing to gather. The little purring bundle safely tucked away inside his jacket pocket and the papers giving him his freedom held tightly in his hand, Jet followed Albert up one level.

Jet was a little pleased to see the German hadn't quite made it to his room yet, instead having stopped into the kitchen for something. It worked just fine for Jet. He snuck up while Albert's back was turned and leaned against the counter with a smug little smile on his face.

"Hey there, come to this joint often?"

[silberfuchs]

Startled, Albert closes the fridge with a loud bang.

"Heaven, ass, and fathom, Jet what are you doing here?!" The curse just sounds comical in English but Albert is too worried about his husband being caught breaking curfew to notice at the moment.

He strides over to Jet, breathing between his teeth in an urgent near-silent hiss. "Are you insane? They've already made us cyborgs again, do you want to end up like Alex?"

[metalicarus]

The mangled curse Jet knew was supposed to be in German made his smile grow. He wasn't above laughing at how strange some of the things that came out of Albert's mouth sounded when he was being auto-translated.

That smile faltered ever-so-slightly at the remark about Alex, but his spirits were too high to be dampened very much. Jet reached up to trace his metal fingers against Albert's cheek. He didn't blame his husband for his reaction, considering the potential consequences, but this time Jet wasn't just being reckless like Albert clearly thought.

Jet pressed the papers into Albert's hand as a way of explanation. "Thanks for the vote of confidence but, for once, I do know what I'm doing. I got a pass."

[silberfuchs]

Papers crumple against his metal fingers but Albert straightens them out and reads after a warning look at his husband, mouth moving as he reads the words in the page.

"...grant a pass for curfe- Oh!" The look he gives Jet after tearing his white eyes away from the pass is joyous and somehow accusatory even in its mirth. He doesn't like being scared like that just for Jet's amusement. "That's... well, that's alight then."

He coughs, clearing his throat and handing the pages back. In the process, another worry unfortunately occurs. "What did you have to do to get this?"

[metalicarus]

Jet groaned and wrapped his arms behind Albert's neck to press a quick but hard kiss on his husband's lips. Once he'd pulled away a moment later, his smile had turned into an amused smirk. Albert had a knack for making the sharp edges around a situation seem more menacing rather than making them shine like a silver lining. It was frustratingly endearing.

"You're such a wet blanket. I get a pass and the first thing you ask me is if I've sold my soul." He shook his head and pulled away to fold the papers and stick them in his pocket. "I just promised to do some promotional stuff, nothing life or limb-threatening."

Truth was, he didn't know what it entailed fully, just that he'd have to do something for the Capitol in return for this, the uncertainty was what he got for not being specific, but he thought it was worth it. For Albert, whatever it was, it was worth it.