thecapitol | I go to seek a Great Perhaps.

Entry tags:

I go to seek a Great Perhaps.

Who| Bucky Barnes (fem!AU), Peggy Carter (Panem), and Steve Rogers (AU)
What| Some Srsbsns Talk and some Girl Talk with Peggy. And some more awkward Steve time.
Where| Training Center and a bar in The Capitol where Bucky works.
When| A few hours after Tony's execution. And then a few days later after Celebrus was published.
Warnings/Notes| Likely talk of death, violence, torture etc.

Bucky has come down to the central commons now dressed like she belongs in the 21st century, the money for which came from her job she got recently, and is actually leaving to go to. She doesn't have a shift, but the manager forgot to lock up this morning and asked her to do it for him since she was the only one he could reach.

Like anyone would be at this point, she's distracted and grim. The broadcast of that execution has bothered her since she saw it, and not just because a man was shot in the head on camera as a message that really needs no words. That man looked familiar, though she's sure she never met him before, in a place like this with multiple versions of people, it has her feeling uneasy.

She also wants to talk to Peggy after that anonymous message on the "safe post", though she knows she can't talk about that. There's little she can really talk to her about, but she can ask her about the man who was executed. So as she walks through the central commons, she goes at a leisurely place and keeps an eye out for her without actually looking around.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Peggy is also in a grim mood after that execution. She's worried about Linden and discomfited by a man who knew another version of her as an aunt being dead. That, however, doesn't concern Capitolites--she's been accosted by a fan. A man who has dyed his skin blue is talking to her animatedly, moving his hands around with expressive vigor that makes it clear that he doesn't notice the way her eyes have glazed over. This is the face of a woman wondering if chewing her arm off will get her out of the situation she's in.

When Bucky catches her eye, Peggy immediately perks and shoots her a look that borders on pleading. Save her.

Catching the meaning, she slides her gaze over to the blue-skinned man and turns the incredulous look that wants to form on her face into something like physical attraction, sizing him up. It makes it appear as though he's the one she's stopping to look over at and walk over to, not Peggy.

"Excuse me," She says as she comes up to his side and touches his arm gently at the crook of his elbow, a sensitive spot on the human body she knows will have a chill response that has him immediately looking to her. She catches his gaze with the best shy but sultry tilt of her head and small smile she can muster, making a show of side-eyeing him, gaze moving head to toe, "I saw you across the room and just... couldn't take my eyes off that beautiful tint you've got. Blue is my favorite color, you know."

As she distracts his gaze, her other hand goes up to his shoulder while the one on his elbow slides over to the middle of his back, encouraging him to turn more towards her. Should be enough time for Peggy to disappear and she can get away on her own. She's not famous or nothin'.

Peggy is not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As the man sputters and turns his attention to the offworlder, she bolts in the most dignified way she possibly can. She owes Bucky a drink, because that man will drone on and on about what good taste she has and where he had his skin dyed and it's just the height of fashion, you know--

Peggy will be waiting in Bucky's District with a bottle of tequila in thanks. She has been spared from having to start gnawing off her own arm to escape.

She's really good at handling things like that and has done it before a few times for girlfriends back home. More than a few. She's not sure if that says something about men or about her. But she actually turns it to her advantage and tugs him along with her to her place of work suggesting that he's making her feel secure on the street and blah blah blah. She hangs on his arm and lets him get it out of his system while she does what she needed to do anyway and tunes him out. It also has the added benefit of getting him out of the Training Center.

She'll likely regret this after that article about her gets published in Celebrus Magazine.

She ditches him at the bar she works at, pretending that it's open and she has a shift. After he leaves, she goes back to the Training Center, which wasn't far, so it's about an hour later when she comes up the elevator to the 11th floor. She hadn't expected Peggy to be there, but she doesn't look surprised, just raises her brows a bit and then huffs a little in amusement, plopping down to sit in a nearby chair in the common area.

"... Why would anyone dye their skin blue?" She says with a perplexed tilt of her head, though she's exaggerating her confounded reaction to draw some humor out of it. It's not really that confusing to her. Though still really out there.

"Anything for fashion," Peggy says quietly. She had waited in the District and passed the time by doing some paperwork, which she shuffles away into her purse. "Thank you, by the way. I can never tell people like that when to buzz off or they might stop sponsoring my Tributes. I hope he didn't cause you too much trouble."

She's been gone for an hour, so the man probably bored her to tears as well. Peggy tries to focus on that and not on the real reason it feels like she has no patience for anyone from the Capitol right now. Peggy picks up the tequila and holds it out to Bucky.

"I got this as thanks."

She smiles a bit with a grateful look as she accepts the offered bottle. "No problem." She shrugs casually, "It wasn't much trouble. I just let him escort me to where I was going like a gentleman and left him scratching his head on the street corner."

She looks at the bottle label and then back at Peggy with a more anticipatory edge to her smile. "It's even easier to string men along when they're lit." She stands, placing the bottle on the center table "I'll get some glasses."

Not even gonna ask if she wants one, she's 99% sure the answer is yes. She hasn't forgotten the video or the conflicting way it's made her feel. And she suspects they're both gonna need something to drink when she asks Peggy what she's wanted to since it broadcasted. She finds a couple shot glasses and comes back to start setting them up and twisting the cap off.

Edited 2015-09-07 05:04 (UTC)

Peggy smiles at the thought of sharing a drink. She'd be lying if she said she didn't like having the company. It's been... she's not sure when the last time was that she had a girl to spend time with.

The smiles relatively quickly, though. She wishes she could be happier, but a heavy feeling has settled on the Tribute Center, and she can't shake its effect on her. "It's not just men. I wouldn't be able to do half of what I do if I couldn't string along men and women."

And that's more literal than she makes it out to be. She wouldn't be any good at getting any information without her charm.

Long after drinking with Peggy earlier in the day, and after she's sobered up and spent some time on the deck of the District 11 suite to morbidly reflect by herself, Bucky goes down to the Training level of the Training Center. She decides to spend the rest of the afternoon stabbing and hitting things until she can't move anymore. Since arriving in Panem, she's spent a lot of time here, but in moderation, tightly controlling how she feels about all this by putting it in a box and focusing on practicing everything she's learned in the last year.

But today is a day where a crack forms in that box and she needs to work it out. Her body was growing restless up on the 11th floor as her mind just got nowhere and kept swirling right back to the same spot. She walks in wearing typical training attire in blacks and grays and her hair tied at the nape of her neck. Since they have no guns, she's been honing knives, though it's a weaker skill and she prefers long distance. She's eyed the bow and arrows in the area a few times, but she doesn't think she has the luxury of time to try and teach herself a new weapon. Not without a really good teacher.

So while she's here, she'll alternate between knife throwing practice and kicking the asses of the randomly arranged human-shaped punching dummies like they're a group of enemies. She's in good shape, so she won't start breaking a sweat right off the bat, but she doesn't stop much at all for anything, but if she notices Steve, she might. Or he can come pick a fight with her, she would be open to that. But he'll have her on the floor in like less than a minute, that's for sure.

Stark. Not the man that Steve knew, but someone related to him. His investigating hadn't gotten too far before he had to stop.

He's been walking all day through the Capitol, eyeing the peacekeepers on the streets. Looking for a fight. He manages to make it back to the Training Center with his head down - no trouble, like he promised he'd try for. The trade off is that he feels like he's going to burst out of skin by the time he makes it down the elevator, still looking for a fight.

Unfortunately, the only person down here is one of the last people he wants to fight with. Steve watches her from the sidelines, not announcing his presence but not slinking away either.

It only takes her a minute to feel the crawl on her back that comes with being watched and she stops, looking over at him. There's a light sheen of sweat on her face, she's noticed, and of course everywhere else, making the fabirc of the zip-up long-sleeve shirt she has on cling to her arms. But she doesn't take it off, just makes a bit of a face, looking down at her forearm and picking at the fabric. Then she looks back at him, placing her hands on her hips as she catches her breath.

"Contrary to popular belief, women don't like being watched from afar." She teased him sometimes about knowing nothing about women despite being friends with her for years. She reaches up to re-adjust her hair-tie. "It's unnerving."

Edited 2015-09-07 01:32 (UTC)

He recognizes the teasing in her voice, a hand raising to brush through the front of his hair as he looks at the weapons rack instead.

"Didn't want to interrupt." Didn't know how to approach her and didn't want to let himself give in to retreating again. She's the one to always initiate conversations - he's perpetually stuck trying to catch up (her more visibly comfortable, him not able to fake it as easily). Pushing forward is what he does, whether he's functional or not, and she's a massive roadblock that he can't just force himself past with the usual brute force methods he employs to deal with his problems.

It's frustrating, but then he just turns that frustration back on himself.

He starts to head to the opposite side of the gym, setting up some training dummies for himself without a plan that goes any further than: I want to hit something.

She watches him go arrange the dummies, the sweat on her body starting to cool uncomfortably and an itch forming in her hands, a bubbling pressure inside her ribcage full of restless, frustrated energy she hasn't finished getting out. A short moment of contemplation and she's walking over to him, pulling down the zipper of her tunic as she goes and shucks it off her shoulders to reveal a white sleeveless workout top.

"Hey. I'm kinda tired of motionless dummies. I think I need to upgrade to one that moves." She balls up the black top as she gets closer and puts it on a bench. "What d'you say?"

He stops what he's doing to give her a sidelong glance - the teasing starts to tug a faint smile out of him, but it quickly twists into a grimace that he turns on the dummy in front of him.

"Not sure that's a good idea."

Having entirely something to do with her being much smaller and him not entirely trusting his ability not to hurt her. It's been a long time since he's sparred with anyone - and with that comes the realization that he's been kept out of anything resembling a combat situation since he was let loose in SHIELD's basement - since he murdered a defenseless prisoner and nearly killed two of his friends.

At first, the beginnings of a smile on him have her hopeful, and not for a fight, that goes out of her mind entirely for that brief second. Smiles on him are like tiny victories in a situation where she feels utterly powerless... she'd never wanted to feel like that again. But then he answers and she definitely doesn't look pleased with it, though definitely not surprised either. After a tightlipped frown, she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

"I know damn well you could hurt me. If you wanted to. But I trust you won't." She says it like this should be obvious information and fixes him with a level stare.

Edited 2015-09-07 07:48 (UTC)

With his back still turned to her, he grits his teeth. I'm not your friend, is what he's thinking. You don't have any reason to trust me (I don't trust your trust in me is what he really means). But the way she's talking has him cornered and that part of him that can't back down from a challenge has pressure put on it, overriding fear and caution.

He abandons the weapon rack and steps toward to a section of the gym with the floor padded, returning her level stare with one of his own, shoulders squared and eyes narrowed - a quick flash of fear or uncertainty flickering through his expression before it's forcibly extinguished. He's already committed.

"Whenever you're ready."

That's definitely a response that distinguishes him even more from the Steve she knows. Her Steve never would have relented, at least she's pretty damn certain he wouldn't. She never asked him to spar with her because it had always been obvious as they were growing up, and especially after the hydra factory, that he didn't feel comfortable with her being around or involved in his fights in Brooklyn and certainly not with her sticking around in the army after her rescue. No way would he agree to fight her himself if she wanted to test the skills she was learning from Peggy with him.

It has her studying him closely as she walks over to the mat, not in any way suspicious or confused, just interested and kind of cautiously eager to see what happens next. She'd be crazy not to be cautious and crazy not to be a bit nervous, but she stands by what she said just now, even if he's different, she's not afraid of him. Not even with that look, one she's never seen on that face before, but still it doesn't scare her. Especially not after she catches that flicker on his face, and that has her even more curious and also concerned. She hides the worry, but it does have the effect of her body language loosening up a bit as she stops to stand in front of him.

She knows he can't be afraid of her, so that leaves only one other thing: himself. For a moment she rethinks this, not wanting to force him if he's afraid... but selfishly, she wants to learn more about him and get the pent up frustrations of everything out. Hit something, fight with someone because neither of them have any power here, and once again, they're shackled and forced to silently endure or scream. She doesn't want to do either.

So she starts off the fight with a feinted jab to his left side and then quickly drops down to send a low sweeping kick from the right, looking to kick his feet out from under him.

Edited 2015-09-08 08:04 (UTC)

He identifies the feint and shifts out of the way of her kick, effectively dodging it with what would be a lazy sort of ease if his expression wasn't so tense the entire time. Before she gets back on her feet he takes a couple of steps back, forcing her to close the distance between them again with however she decides to attack next.

That has her annoyed and it shows on her face as she smoothly gets back on the balls of her feet in a crouch. But since he's widening the distance, she can't really stop to be aggravated, otherwise there will be too much distance and she'd be chasing him like this is some kind of cartoon. What ends up happening in the next few minutes is just her attacking and him dodging. Of course, she starts getting more and more irritated, though it doesn't make her sloppy, more determined and calculated if anything. She organizes the flow of her attacks to get him within five feet of a wall and she knows he's not dumb enough to let himself get up against it, but she's given up now and just wants end with making a point. An impression. And so, her final move is a concealed knife from behind her belt on her lower back getting thrown hard just past his ear and into the wall several feet behind him.

It's then that she lets her anger show, glowering at him and standing still as stone except for the slight tremble in her arms and hands. They aren't tense fists or shaking with rage like the rest of her is expressing, but a haunted pain. She hates feeling powerless, she hates being led by the nose and having her mind and feelings toyed with. There's a measure of hurt in her eyes that seeps in a minute later as her breathing starts to calm more. She's usually so good at putting on the right face and keeping this in a box...

And belatedly, that's what she does, tearing her eyes away and looking to the ground, feeling self conscious and almost ashamed. Shocked at herself, too. Then she takes a shaky step to the side and walks around him to go pull the knife out of the wall. "Sorry."

She pulls the knife out and turns around, pulling in a breath and letting it out in a huff, eyes still downcast. There's a lot of thoughts turning in her head, things she abruptly has an urge to say and ask, but having no idea of she should after that or how.

Edited 2015-09-09 05:22 (UTC)

He gets no enjoyment out of forcing her to chase him around the pad either, but he can't get himself to engage her properly.

The flash of metal catches his eye just before it whizzes past his ear. He freezes, blood pumping in his ears as he registers the anger on her face and waits for her to come at him with a second weapon. She doesn't - just walks right past him and pulls the blade out of the wall - and he's still waiting up until the moment she says sorry. Sounds like a foreign word through the buzzing in his ears.

"Why?" His tone is flat but it feels like someone else using his mouth. "You missed."

For a moment she wonders if he's trying to be funny. But with a pang she quickly realizes he isn't and looks up at him with a difficult to read expression. For the most part she looks like she's struggling to piece something together in her head while studying him with a dawning realization of how deeply damaged he really is.

"You think I was aiming for your face?" Then she looks down at the knife in her hand before shoving it back into its sheath behind her. "... No, I didn't miss."

The knife goes back in the sheath and with it slowly goes the white noise in his ears. He makes a wordless sound to acknowledge (or dismiss) whatever she says and starts to walk away from their padded ring - coming down from that hyperaware state has him feeling like he's sleepwalking without a specific destination.

She's at a loss for a moment and then spurs herself to start walking after him. "Steve."

She comes up from behind him on one side and puts a hand on his bicep to get his attention, looking up at him, her face tense with concern.

He doesn't stop until the hand touches his arm, she can likely feel as his entire body goes tense (and he's a hairsbreadth away from yanking her arm by the wrist).

"What?" But he can sort of tell what, by the look on her face. He tries not to grimace and shrugs her hand away. "It's fine."

No one got hurt.

(no one got what they wanted either though)

She lets her hand drop, a thought that she'd been trying to stave off wiggling its way into the forefront of her mind. She had been captured and tortured and sees an extreme version of how she feels after that in him. What if it was him in that role and not his Bucky...?

"Was it HYDRA?" She asks quietly, abruptly, body tensing and teeth clenching hard after it's out of her mouth. And she's immediately surprised by herself again, though she doesn't take the question back. She's not asking for details, she doesn't need them. It's a yes or no question if he needs it to be.

It's not a yes or no question for him, not when he's taken off guard and has no half-truth prepared. She might as well have struck him across the face with the way his body goes completely rigid this time.

"HYDRA's done." His voice goes flat again. "Schmidt destroyed himself and Zola's dead." A pause.

"I killed him myself."

There's an unmistakable grim satisfaction in his voice, helping to mask the fear and self-loathing that tends to follow any thoughts of that incident. His Bucky hadn't been sorry to see Zola dead - only effect it had on Steve later. Peggy was the only one frustrated by the doctor's death, but that was because it made rooting out the rest of Zola's agents and co-conspirators more dangerous in the aftermath.

Well, that sort of answers her question, she thinks. She doesn't want to push him to say more after seeing him go rigid like that, though. So she nods, moving to face him better, but also give him a bit more space. "... Good."

She understands the satisfaction and glances at the ground. And she decides that if she's not going to push him to say more, she owes him an explanation for blindsiding him into talking about it. "I've imagined killing him more times than I can count."

Then she lifts her gaze back to him. "Let's just say that. A lot of the time, you look how I feel." For a moment she considered saying something more specific than that but she's never directly talked about it before, and she has no reason to start now. He can get the picture pretty easily without her spelling it out.

Her approval and assessment of his appearance has his stomach churning. What he knows of his own Bucky's experience with HYDRA is limited. He remembers finding his friend on the table in the factory, but little of what they might've spoken about on the subject. From the way Bucky talked about it more recently, he got the sense that they talked about it more in that one conversation than in all the months directly after the rescue happened.

He looks away, eyes fixed on the ground as his brow furrows. There's a long pause.

"You wanna go again?"

Sparring. He can try again.

She's watching him out of the corner of her eye as he processes that, heart in a vice. The question surprises her, though, and her eyebrows go up just a bit, before she reverts to considering how to answer, gaze lowered to the ground again. She knows she doesn't want to make him fight her again, even if he's offering like this.

After a pause, her mouth shifts into a bit of a small smile that comes with an idea forming, one that feels right and it's funny that it didn't pop up until that moment. "No."

She crosses her arms and raises her chin a bit as she looks at him, the corners of her lips curling. "I want you to teach me something."

Edited 2015-09-11 01:04 (UTC)

He glances at her, eyebrows raised.

"Teach you what?" Nothing immediately springs to mind at her request. He's never taught anyone... anything.

She shrugs. "I've been learning how to fight from Peggy for a year. That's not a ton of experience."

Her Steve was in the same kind of position, but she's more aware now than ever that this Steve has had different experiences and after their fight (if you can even call it that) just now, it seems like he knows more. "So. You saw me just now, what would you have done differently if you were me? Let's start there."

His fighting abilities owe more to his enhanced reflexes and instincts than extensive instruction, everything he learned came from a week of basic or lessons in between missions from his former unit and Peggy. His time with HYDRA gave him a dozen more missions under his belt,, but they never bothered with that sort of instruction, just turned him loose in the field after rewiring his memories.

His arms move to cross over his chest and gives a thoughtful frown at the ground again, canting his head to one side - it takes him almost a minute to answer.

"You're keeping too much distance. You wanna be quick, but I can read what you're planning to do halfway before you can get close enough to do it."

Well, that's an interesting point right after she just consciously gave him some space. She thinks about it for a second and steps forward, gets closer than she was when she was fighting him. It makes her nervous to consciously do it. Then she takes a stance and slow punches towards him, her knuckles just stopping short of his middle, very clearly not a real attack. She's tense all over and frowns thoughtfully.

"It's still strange to say, but I only come up to your damn nipples. You could take my head off this close." Strange because he used to be shorter than her. And she's not forgetting about weaving and dodging, but he's faster than her too. She's trying to reason out how she can be quicker. She supposes "reading" him like he just said, maybe. It's hard to think this far out of her comfort zone, though.

His eyes follow her fist and he lets out a soft, quiet huff through his mouth, squinting at her. He's not quite relaxed, but he's not as tense as he was before either.

"Then you hit me somewhere it's really gonna hurt before I can." Not his middle.

There's a pause as that sinks in, and then she can't help it, she lightly snorts in amusement, some of her tension leaving her body as she lets her head drop and shakes is a bit. Then she raises her head and gives him a bit of a mischievous look.

"Be careful who you give that advice to. You might get a punch below the belt for your trouble."

Basically: you'll get kicked in the balls, Steve.

He shrugs, taking a step back and lowering his eyes again with a ghost of a smile.

"Whatever works." That's kind of what he was going for. Not that he's looking for a kick in the nuts.

"But you better make sure your target goes down." Otherwise you're just going to end up with a pissed off opponent.

Edited 2015-09-11 06:19 (UTC)

It's not smart to make friends with Tributes, even less so if they're part of another District. Peggy tries to keep Tributes at arm's length, even her own. Even so, she'd be a fool to deny that some get under her armor.

It's hard to not spend time with Jamie. She has the same magnetism that all Buckys seem to have. Peggy wants to talk with her and relax and let loose, and she'll argue that there's no conflict of interest because Jamie isn't her Tribute so she can't show her favor or disfavor. As long as she doesn't give her any advice on how to deal with the Games or the media, she can pretend she can keep her work and her personal life completely separate.

They agreed to meet up for drinks. She's waiting at the bar, having gone a little early so she wouldn't have to keep Jamie waiting.

When Peggy walks in, she's on the other side of the room bringing drinks balanced on a platter over to a table. She spots her and smiles a bit before heading into the back to clock out. Her shift's over, but might as well stick around and take advantage of employee privileges for the drinks. She could work in a hospital, but she's chosen to not talk about being an NP... don't want to make anyone listening in wonder why she's not interested in healing Capitol citizens.

She comes back out not long after, now with a bit of trepidation in the set of her shoulders, the kind that someone would have when they're self conscious and doing pretty good at hiding it, but not perfectly. Because, well, in the time between they talked about meeting for drinks and now, Celebrus was published... and she has a shift with Steve tomorrow, goodie.

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you walk into mine." She quotes and cocks her head a bit with a grin as she sits at the bar next to Peggy. It's overcompensating for how she feels and she knows it. Like hell Peggy would know Casablanca, but she says it in that recited tone a person uses when quoting and making a reference to something, so at least there's that.

Edited 2015-09-07 07:26 (UTC)

Peggy raises an eyebrow as she turns to look at Jamie. "That sounds like a reference, so I'm going to pretend I understand and congratulate you on cleverness." Otherwise, it wouldn't make much sense. Of course she went to the bar they agreed to meet in.

Jamie is holding herself a little oddly, but Peggy doesn't blame her. Peggy also has a vague unease when she's with Jamie, but the woman's company is good enough that she overlooks it. Still, it seems a little odd.

"How was your shift?" she asks, signaling another bartender over with a smile. She's getting whiskey.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I go to seek a Great Perhaps.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

For Steve. After Tony's death and after drinks with Peggy

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Post-Celebrus

no subject

no subject