I am my own best friend

Bucky smirked, somewhere between amused and interested. “Emma,” he repeated. “Beautiful name. Don’t know if I expected anything different, mind you.” Briefly he wondered if his flirting was a bit out of date; it was like an old outfit he could throw on at will. It felt more like home than his clothes did now. Although they sat well on him, they didn’t feel like his. They were starched and stiff and warm, but everything was warm now. Sometimes he missed the cold, which was insane, but he missed it, like a lot of other things.

“You would, eh?” Bucky said, leaning in a little closer to both Emma and the bar. He tried to cast his mind back to… It must’ve been ‘79, the last mission he’d had where the Soviets trusted him to use his words instead of his gun. Then he thought about ‘42, the last time he bought a girl a drink before war was a constant in the back of his mind. Finally he settled on the Stork Club’s Commando Cocktail, where Dum-Dum had decided on the name for their squad.

Certainly seemed to work just fine for most men within the Hellfire Club. And most men in general, with more than a few women and other genders thrown in. Emma practically soaked in the compliments, verbal or mental, loving the attention paid. Almost made up for being ignored as the middle daughter of the Frosts for so long. 

The drink was unusual, getting a suitably impressed noise from Emma as she grinned, “I like it. Anything with bourbon and triple sec has my complete attention though, I must admit. And it’s different than the usual classics most will order for me - which generally boils down to different kinds of martinis. Not bad, but new is always nice. I find it’s difficult to be surprised, these days. But you, James, are managing it quite well, I admit.” 

There was something there, something in his mind that wasn’t him, at least he didn’t think it was. If he hadn’t been so sensitive to even the slightest loss of self, he wouldn’t have noticed. It was probably just his old self coming back to haunt him.

“You caught me,” he said with a smile. “I’ve been trying to work out how to ask for a while. Never had a woman call me out for it, though.” He didn’t really mind, in fact, he enjoyed the fact that in the future (or the present, rather) more women felt free to speak their mind. During the war, there was Peggy, and not many others.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Frost,” he said smoothly. “I’m…” He hesitated for a moment. Bucky was a bit of an unusual name; immediately the connection might be made to Captain America’s wartime sidekick, who was undoubtedly in the news after D.C. “James,” he settled on. “James Barnes.”

Emma found herself smiling along with him, actually interested for the first time that evening. “No need to try and work it out, darling, I’m always happy to have money spent on me - and I don’t bite. Until asked.” Or begged, as the case might be.

“James,” her smile was warm, “In which case, Emma, please.” The pause was even more intriguing, indicated a false name. Which usually meant the type of man who wanted to have sex and never be contacted again - so strange, then, that it wasn’t the kind of vibe she’d gotten from his mind. Something else, then. Well, at least she was far from bored. 

Nice Winnie, gold star. 

“But I promise I am well-equipped to understand the sentiment perfectly well, so I can appreciate it, wording aside.” 

i chose to leave home. i’d already gotten everything i’d ever need: namely the frost will. will to power. will to thrive. unbeatable, unbreakable. perfect like a snowflake, strong like a diamond. the will to live. the will to teach. the will to teach children - to teach mutant children, like me - how to find… somewhere, within themselves… the will to do whatever it takes to survive. to save and protect those who can’t save and protect themselves… from whatever apocalypse in which they might find themselves… protection from whatever fires… from whatever flames… no matter how painful… and from whatever hells they find themselves burning in. no matter how they got there. that’s how i survived. time and time again, that’s my secret. i survived because i willed it to be. time and time again iv’e seen tyrants crush the powerless. i’ve been crushed by them myself.