autocllave:
for a dog that had been something of a stray prior to this, NEMOYA didn’t possess a single feral bone in her body. sure, she ran free on the beach and he probably could have been a little less ‘lax about the ‘keep your dog on a leash’ rule that he assumed all public places had. but, she only really approached those that took any sort of notice to her ( especially if they had food which, given her healthy appearance, he CLEARLY fed her but, that was besides the point ) and kind of bounced around families until she ran back to bucky.
“you can pet her,” he hadn’t looked at whoever approached, sat near enough to him that he could feel their presence. and despite how much he stuck out like a SORE THUMB with a body riddled with scars and a pricey cybernetic arm, he seemed to fully ignore it. instead, he began to place lotion on the child next to him’s back as the dog investigated the new companion. “trust me, you’ve never met a truly friendly dog until you’ve met nemoya.”
“i’m terrified of dogs... you know this.” he still didn’t understand where the root of his fear came from; he had it since he could remember. ( not knowing the root was the process of a hell hound going to destroy the world. ) he held the wine glass in his hand tightly, already on his third one. people had expressed their shock that he wandered out of the shop. he tried to have a life outside the book store... try being the word. he really came by to say hello. he knew it was a worthless notion. for god’s sake hale-- he was married.
he swallowed thickly before he finished off his wine. “she’s pretty-- i must admit....” he mumbled into his glass before his hand reached up to fiddle with his cross around his neck. “does-- does the arm still hurt?” he had always been worried about it. worried if he was ever in pain. stop trying to make small talk. just walk away.
