#readapt

BROW FURROWED, FINGERS PUSHING against his temples. The BACKGROUND NOISE of the birds in the city was worse than normal. A sound Sam could tune out, after years of practice. But now their cries filled his brain with STATIC, making it difficult to concentrate on what Bucky was saying.

it comes at a surprise to be met with the scene inside the cantina. the veritable massacre of bounty hunters at his feet aside, the man's face looks familiar enough to tug at something in her brain. though she's not one to make snap judgements based on blurry security camera footage, it could be barnes -- or just some sentient who happens to look a bit like the man they suspect he may be. either way, his identity has nothing to do with her op ; she's not here on a recruit anyone to the cause. for the time being, she disregards his presence beyond the facts that he's likely the only other living soul in the cantina and that he's undoubtedly the one who'd killed everyone else.

jyn keeps her face impassive as she observes the scene, though one of her eyebrows tick upwards at his comment. instead of saying anything in response to that ( because no unremarkable person would be able to take down this many people in such a clean and practiced manner and stay standing ), she instead crouches down next to the body closest to her and begins the unpleasant task of looking through their pockets for some form of verification. without looking up, she asks mildly, " you have any idea if one of these sentients is darro anen ? "

but he might. to speak about himself is something he does not do, not for a lack of wanting but more from a lack of habit. found by the mandalorians, made to be a warrior, his identity was a thing to be forgotten, his past buried like his face. helmet put on, din djarin was to be forgotten. but he couldn't, a red fabric and a necklace, hidden away, the lines that don't belong to him he tries to find the few times he meets his reflection.

there's a silent agreement between them she feels, something about his identity being known but not discussed. a desire to appear normal she guesses, something about this place maybe a bit like peace among the chaos for him. so she smiles and does small talk, she lets the hints and mistakes roll off, never picking them up to gather the truth. it does not really matter, she does not really matter in the intensity of his life, a friendly face at most.

still, there is surprise as he speaks, never having been so forward about his past before. her past traumas save her though, the way she's so tense because always ready for the unexpected allows her feet not to stumble, her smile not to falter. deer like eyes evade his as she opens a beer for him, head slightly tilting, ' we've all done bad things, ' it seems like lana cannot escape her mistakes and errors, all that guilt that weights her down, every mistake collected like pebbles. a shrug, ' i don't know, maybe what matters is if we feel bad about it, if we learnt from them. ' teeth worry the inside of her cheek, digging in the flesh of it, she's pretty sure she hasn't learnt a damn thing since she still finds herself right there.

peter doesn't have a lot of friends. he keeps his circle close, partially out of fear & mostly because it's already been pruned. the people he touches are marked for death, one way or another. it scares the weak away. ( keeps him alone in the darkest moments. )

so here, on the apartment fire escape, after a day of walking around & showing an old man some new streets; it's quiet, & it's not bad. he hears the TV from an apartment somewhere above them, the bustle of creaking wood & footsteps. cars at the lip of the alley.

@readapt says : ❛ you know me. i don't let my guard down for just anyone. ❜

peter nods before he understands the words, then glances unsubtly at the other man. for just anyone, as if peter is special, & a small part of him very loudly wants to ask how long that'll last. bucky'll find something annoying eventually, some piece of peter that's too tiresome. another, familiar part of him smothers that moment of weakness. this is a good thing, after all. & he needs to stop making it about him, peter.

❝ you can tell a lot about someone by the way they fight. ❞ you'd think his childhood was to blame - it usually was - for this kernel of insight, but really, he'd picked up this particular skillset from his time in the ring. when a single jab-cross could be the difference between a championship belt and falling on your ass, you learned to pay attention to the little things. some guys fought for the love of the game - putting on a show, playing with their food, savoring the journey. others fought with brutal efficiency. for them, it was about the destination - the sooner they got there, the better.

and some - people like diego - fought because they had no other choice. because they needed it. because it was the only thing that had ever worked. ❝ you throw punches like you've got something to prove. ❞ pot, meet kettle. he'd had something to prove his whole life. leaving home should have helped - escaping the hargreeves mold, the number that had been his identity, was still his identity - but it hadn't. no matter how many assholes he took off the street, the work was never done. most nights, he was glad for it, the consistency of it all. always a new ghost to chase.

gloved covered hands, watchful eyes, a regular that looks nothing like the sort of people that comes to her workplace. @readapt makes her cheeks warm and her heart trips sometimes, her laugh is louder when he's there, her eyes a bit brighter. it's the stupidest crush she's ever had and boy did she have stupid ones. but he talks about his neighbor with stars in his eyes and there's only happiness for him at the thought, her own disappointment one she is too used to to actually care about it.

lion wrinkle they call it, the dip between his brows when something tugs at his brain, when seriousness is to be conveyed. lana usually finds it endearing but his words are too earnest, too close to a truth she would never admit out loud. not good enough, not pretty enough, not smart enough. lana is never enough. there's a study that shows that, if you speak badly and regularly to rice grains, they will turn black, they will spoil. she thinks they all are rice grains at the end : if you hear enough time how bad you are, you can only be that.

steve remembers hours spent in bed with only @readapt by his side, remembers him being there when his ma died, remembers him finding him a date, kicking idiots' asses when he couldn't finish the job -- which was every time to be honest. bucky has always been looking after him, friendship is not owing one another but there is a debt there that he cannot ever repay. even when he had nothing, he had bucky.

there is guilt weighing him down, leaving a sour taste on his tongue, remembers reaching for his friend and finding empty air, a fall that lasted seventy years : one that he could have prevented if he had been more like bucky, BRAVER, STRONGER, BOLDER. but steve let bucky down and that's on him.

now he has a chance to be there for his best friend, for his last remaining family. and if it means letting go, if it means not being by his side to ensure his safety then he will do it. bucky has sacrificed a lot for him, steve feels like this friendship never cost him a thing. ' you've been looking after me my whole life, buck. think it's time i look after you now. ' there is a smile, one that he offers with complete sincerity.