[ Bucky's lips quirk at the mention of him being black ops. He just lets it go, because it's easier than trying to explain it, anyway, and he's not a bad liar, but he's not really trying to hide much right now, anyway, at least not on the surface.
Talking about Howard leaves him feeling a little raw and exposed, especially now that he's been told Howard is in one of those tubes. One day he's going to wake up and he's going to remember that Bucky killed him and he's going to know that Bucky killed his wife, too. Bucky doesn't know what he'll do, but it won't be good. ]
Two jacks.
[ He lowers his cards to the table and man, he hadn't thought the hand was that bad, but it isn't enough. ]
Alright. What first?
[ Cards. A distraction. He really needs it right now. The conversation's getting a little too close to home for him. Probably for both of them. He's pretty sure he's more comfortable than Brock is right now, but it's hard to tell when he knows they're both pretending so hard to be mostly fine.
[Maybe, just maybe, they had revealed a little too much to each other too soon, the rawness of a soldier's life that only another soldier could understand. Sacrifice, loss, pain, and bottling it all up neatly because letting it show was the kind of weakness they had all been trained never to expose to the world. They were their country's defense and offense, so they had better root themselves in that position and hold it together.
It was interesting to think that he and the Soldier might have a few similarities. He could see Barnes in the man now, far more than the bitter cold efficiency of the Winter Soldier fresh into action. At their base, they were two old men in a profession where men were supposed to die young, and they bore the scars of their service quietly.
Put on a mask. Be who the world needed to see. Don't burden others, especially not one's friends or family with the experience.
He plastered a smirk on his face and leaned his elbows on the table, looking the Soldier over as if trying to decide which article would be best to have in his possession first.]
Let's start simple: jacket.
[He made a grabby hand motion, pulling all the previous pain up and away, burying it as he was supposed to. They both needed the distraction, needed the simplicity of being just two guys enjoying a game that would likely expose a completely different set of scars.]
[ Bucky starts to shrug out of his jacket. Focus on the game, he reminds himself.
Even before, he was good at compartmentalizing and putting on a brave face. He'd been the oldest and he'd had Steve to look out for. It had always seemed important to be okay so that he could be there for everyone else and that skill had served him well in the war. It had let him be strong for the men around him and later it had helped him to hide what he'd been through at Azzano from Steve. Sure, Steve had had some ideas, but Bucky would never tell him about the worst of it. He still hasn't, though he's sure Steve knows now.
He pushes it across the table at Brock with a smile that probably still has a few cracks in it, but he thinks they understand each other enough that Brock won't call him on it. ]
We tried to play this once in the snow. Got about a layer down before half the men bailed.
[ Bucky had been fine, but in retrospect it's easy to tell why now. ]
[They probably should have been drinking, what with this kind of commiserating going on. He suspected that neither of them had expected it would happen and now that it had, they both seemed quietly uncomfortably with all that they had revealed. At the same time, it was the kind of trust that he hadn't expected and knew would be insult to injury when the truth came out.
Some men just couldn't handle one another's pain. Some men could. It seemed that leaning on each other might just be a thing before the HYDRA backstory was revealed in them both.
He took the jacket, folded it up neatly and set it next to him. He forced a smile on his face, but he did genuinely chuckle at the story.]
What's a little cold in the middle of the war, right? It's better than being shot. When I was being trained for a stint in the winter of the North, we used to have contests to see who could piss the furthest in the snow and if it would freeze midair.
[He grinned and then gathered up the cards and shuffled them before dealing another hand relatively quickly.]
Socks were the worst, weren't they? Never enough of them, but if your feet sweated, you were just as screwed as if you didn't have any.
[ Bucky laughs as he gathers his cards and it's an honest thing. ]
Weren't you afraid of getting frostbite on your dick? I'll lose a few toes before I'd let that happen.
[ He means it, too. Even if he's not using his dick lately, he wants it to function and he wants to be able to pee and also not feel what has to be the immense pain of losing a part of it. The thought has him wincing. ]
God, my feet were always sweaty, even in the snow, but no socks were worse. Trust me. I had to walk a couple of miles without mine and my feet were bleeding by the end.
[ It's funny how memory works. Sometimes he remember these little details of the war so vividly, but he still can't remember what his youngest sister's doll had looked like. It's not like he values the war more, either. His memories from his time with HYDRA are the same. Some moments are more vivid than they have a right to be. Others are so fuzzy he can't be sure how real they even are. ]
Well yeah, but that was half the challenge honestly. You had to aim, piss and cover up all at the same time.
[Rumlow had never been one to stop from any kind of personal risk though, especially not when he was so young and full of himself. Plus, it was HYDRA, so pushing the recruits to one-up each other was just another test of their loyalty and what they might be willing to do for the organization.]
To be fair, I was far more worried about polar bears. Those bastards are nasty! They will hunt you down, rip you out of your tent and eat you without hesitation. For a city kid, they were like a nightmare.
[He nodded his head, aware that the Second Great War had that problem in the winters. He had experienced it too and sometimes there was no escaping how much winter wars were the worst. Too hot or too cold, not enough food or ammunition, bad weather or horrible weather. It was easy to find something so simple to reflect on and experience of fun but miserable memory.]
I had a medic tell me I had to take my boots off and air out my feet and socks to dry them, but I was like, 'Dude, I will freeze my toes off.' and he just told me if I didn't dry them, I'd freeze my toes off anyway. Me and this chap I served with took turns with our feet tucked against each other so we could air out our boots and socks. The shit we do to serve our countries, right?
[It was almost too easy to just be a soldier around The Soldier. This common ground would have been unheard of in HYDRA when they briefly associated. But soldiers... they knew this shit and had lived it. He couldn't have this with Steve, never had. The guy had been too bury mourning what was lost and looking over top of their heads.]
You'd think Uncle Sam could give you an extra pair of dry socks as a thank you.
[ It amazes Bucky the shit people still go through. Back in the 40s, good warm socks had been a luxury for him even at home. Now, anyone can get a pack of them for a few dollars and soldiers are still freezing their toes off like they're in last century.
From what Bucky can tell, even when they come back missing toes or worse, they're barely cared for, too. He's not bitter, though. He can't be, because he never came home and he wouldn't be welcome there now. ]
You ever think about joining some kinda army again here?
[ Bucky wouldn't. Not unless it seemed absolutely necessary. That he's even considering the guard has an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't want to be anyone else's tool ever again. ]
He tried, but walking all day and night meant they were both wet and needed a good drying. They were damn stiff and could walk on their own after that.
[With limited space in a gear bag, sometimes it was the little things that had to be forgotten. Food or another pair of socks? Well, he'd need energy and his socks would have to last after all. Sometimes there was no getting back for more, so they just had to look forward and continue the mission.
Rumlow knew the state of veterans. Sometimes he even helped make them whole. Sometimes there was no making that whole again. Recruitment was up and down as far as veterans were concerned; some had to have the right personality and bitterness to make it work.
He snorted as he dealt them another hand of the cards.]
No, not once. I don't believe in either city, so why would I fight for them? I haven't even joined the Guard. Again, why would I? They aren't my country, so they haven't earned my loyalty to the regard I would give it for my country.
[He could tell that the idea of combat or joining up was sour for Barnes. Guy probably needed some down time.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Talking about Howard leaves him feeling a little raw and exposed, especially now that he's been told Howard is in one of those tubes. One day he's going to wake up and he's going to remember that Bucky killed him and he's going to know that Bucky killed his wife, too. Bucky doesn't know what he'll do, but it won't be good. ]
Two jacks.
[ He lowers his cards to the table and man, he hadn't thought the hand was that bad, but it isn't enough. ]
Alright. What first?
[ Cards. A distraction. He really needs it right now. The conversation's getting a little too close to home for him. Probably for both of them. He's pretty sure he's more comfortable than Brock is right now, but it's hard to tell when he knows they're both pretending so hard to be mostly fine.
Strong.
Like that means anything anymore. ]
no subject
It was interesting to think that he and the Soldier might have a few similarities. He could see Barnes in the man now, far more than the bitter cold efficiency of the Winter Soldier fresh into action. At their base, they were two old men in a profession where men were supposed to die young, and they bore the scars of their service quietly.
Put on a mask. Be who the world needed to see. Don't burden others, especially not one's friends or family with the experience.
He plastered a smirk on his face and leaned his elbows on the table, looking the Soldier over as if trying to decide which article would be best to have in his possession first.]
Let's start simple: jacket.
[He made a grabby hand motion, pulling all the previous pain up and away, burying it as he was supposed to. They both needed the distraction, needed the simplicity of being just two guys enjoying a game that would likely expose a completely different set of scars.]
no subject
Even before, he was good at compartmentalizing and putting on a brave face. He'd been the oldest and he'd had Steve to look out for. It had always seemed important to be okay so that he could be there for everyone else and that skill had served him well in the war. It had let him be strong for the men around him and later it had helped him to hide what he'd been through at Azzano from Steve. Sure, Steve had had some ideas, but Bucky would never tell him about the worst of it. He still hasn't, though he's sure Steve knows now.
He pushes it across the table at Brock with a smile that probably still has a few cracks in it, but he thinks they understand each other enough that Brock won't call him on it. ]
We tried to play this once in the snow. Got about a layer down before half the men bailed.
[ Bucky had been fine, but in retrospect it's easy to tell why now. ]
no subject
Some men just couldn't handle one another's pain. Some men could. It seemed that leaning on each other might just be a thing before the HYDRA backstory was revealed in them both.
He took the jacket, folded it up neatly and set it next to him. He forced a smile on his face, but he did genuinely chuckle at the story.]
What's a little cold in the middle of the war, right? It's better than being shot. When I was being trained for a stint in the winter of the North, we used to have contests to see who could piss the furthest in the snow and if it would freeze midair.
[He grinned and then gathered up the cards and shuffled them before dealing another hand relatively quickly.]
Socks were the worst, weren't they? Never enough of them, but if your feet sweated, you were just as screwed as if you didn't have any.
no subject
[ Bucky laughs as he gathers his cards and it's an honest thing. ]
Weren't you afraid of getting frostbite on your dick? I'll lose a few toes before I'd let that happen.
[ He means it, too. Even if he's not using his dick lately, he wants it to function and he wants to be able to pee and also not feel what has to be the immense pain of losing a part of it. The thought has him wincing. ]
God, my feet were always sweaty, even in the snow, but no socks were worse. Trust me. I had to walk a couple of miles without mine and my feet were bleeding by the end.
[ It's funny how memory works. Sometimes he remember these little details of the war so vividly, but he still can't remember what his youngest sister's doll had looked like. It's not like he values the war more, either. His memories from his time with HYDRA are the same. Some moments are more vivid than they have a right to be. Others are so fuzzy he can't be sure how real they even are. ]
no subject
[Rumlow had never been one to stop from any kind of personal risk though, especially not when he was so young and full of himself. Plus, it was HYDRA, so pushing the recruits to one-up each other was just another test of their loyalty and what they might be willing to do for the organization.]
To be fair, I was far more worried about polar bears. Those bastards are nasty! They will hunt you down, rip you out of your tent and eat you without hesitation. For a city kid, they were like a nightmare.
[He nodded his head, aware that the Second Great War had that problem in the winters. He had experienced it too and sometimes there was no escaping how much winter wars were the worst. Too hot or too cold, not enough food or ammunition, bad weather or horrible weather. It was easy to find something so simple to reflect on and experience of fun but miserable memory.]
I had a medic tell me I had to take my boots off and air out my feet and socks to dry them, but I was like, 'Dude, I will freeze my toes off.' and he just told me if I didn't dry them, I'd freeze my toes off anyway. Me and this chap I served with took turns with our feet tucked against each other so we could air out our boots and socks. The shit we do to serve our countries, right?
[It was almost too easy to just be a soldier around The Soldier. This common ground would have been unheard of in HYDRA when they briefly associated. But soldiers... they knew this shit and had lived it. He couldn't have this with Steve, never had. The guy had been too bury mourning what was lost and looking over top of their heads.]
no subject
[ It amazes Bucky the shit people still go through. Back in the 40s, good warm socks had been a luxury for him even at home. Now, anyone can get a pack of them for a few dollars and soldiers are still freezing their toes off like they're in last century.
From what Bucky can tell, even when they come back missing toes or worse, they're barely cared for, too. He's not bitter, though. He can't be, because he never came home and he wouldn't be welcome there now. ]
You ever think about joining some kinda army again here?
[ Bucky wouldn't. Not unless it seemed absolutely necessary. That he's even considering the guard has an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't want to be anyone else's tool ever again. ]
no subject
[With limited space in a gear bag, sometimes it was the little things that had to be forgotten. Food or another pair of socks? Well, he'd need energy and his socks would have to last after all. Sometimes there was no getting back for more, so they just had to look forward and continue the mission.
Rumlow knew the state of veterans. Sometimes he even helped make them whole. Sometimes there was no making that whole again. Recruitment was up and down as far as veterans were concerned; some had to have the right personality and bitterness to make it work.
He snorted as he dealt them another hand of the cards.]
No, not once. I don't believe in either city, so why would I fight for them? I haven't even joined the Guard. Again, why would I? They aren't my country, so they haven't earned my loyalty to the regard I would give it for my country.
[He could tell that the idea of combat or joining up was sour for Barnes. Guy probably needed some down time.]
Someone pressuring you to join?