[ she's grateful when he does so without demanding explanation, the question coming off more as curiosity than anything else. an argument is something she'd really rather avoid right now; everything hurts enough as it is. ]
It's a genetic mutation. [ but mutants don't exist here, do they? not in the same way. people with powers, yes, but... they're different. everything is so different in the most unsettling, small ways. ] I have powers that are activated by touch. I can't control it.
[ her eyes stay firmly away from his expression as she elaborates, some part of her afraid to see his reaction to her words. she's trusting him and that trust can so easily be broken with just a simple look. ]
[ his expression remains placid, focused on the task of carefully cleaning the wound, especially without applying too much pressure. it only needs to be cleaned, not scrubbed, and the vibranium, even fine tuned, lacks the nerves that would help him better control the minute actions. he said he didn't want to hurt her more, and he meant it.
while bucky openly accepts how fucked up his whole kidnapping and brainwashing situation had been, he can't deny that the compartmentalizing he was forced to take on to survive doesn't come in handy. it helps with missions, letting him sort through information later without letting it affect him in immediacy, and here too, he only lets himself wholly react once his hand is clear of her face. ]
Sounds like a riot, [ he offers flatly, tucking away the spent wipe carefully back into the wrapping for easier cleanup. it's of course assuming one finds people who inherit epileptic fits something fun and joyous to pull the lottery of. ] Should I put my glove back on? [ he'd taken it off when they'd boarded to more easily enter the return coordinates. ]
I'm not sure that needs stitches, by the way. But it does need tape at the least. You got a preference? You'd still look stunning either way, really. Just a bit more badass if it's with the stitches.
[ she doesn't even flinch as he cleans the cut, the sting of each touch nothing like what she'd experienced only a few weeks ago. for years, she'd experienced so much worse than this, and there's a distant part of her mind that contemplates whether she'll ever truly feel anything again or if everything now will be a dull pervasive ache. physically, emotionally, everything she feels is covered with a thin veil of numbness that she's steadfastly ignored in deference to all the work that needed to be done.
shaking her head at his question, she tries to take a deeper breath and finally winces just slightly. too much too fast. ] You're fine without the glove. And I don't need the stitches, I'm badass enough without them.
[ the sad attempt at a sassy joke falls flat but still feels good in the attempt. it's an echo of who she used to be but she's determined to get back to that person. somehow, no matter how long it takes, she will overcome her past and become the woman she's supposed to be, attitude and all. ]
[ bucky raises his brows at that, corner of his lips quirking upward as he meets her gaze again. ]
Oh, I don't doubt that. [ he doesn't bother hiding his amusement. the grin widens briefly before he moves to pluck a pack of surgical tape from the emergency kit. ] Tape, then.
[ bucky undoes the top, tugging out a few strips to work with. as he starts ripping them into workable sizes, he asks: ] So does the badass have a name?
[ the smile looks good on him; she's glad to see it. she can't remember the last time she'd smiled so freely herself and really meant it. one day. until then, she'll just have to keep making him smile instead. ]
She does. [ there's a pause there that's accompanied by the ghost of a smile and a hint of all the mischief she's capable of. it's only for a moment though, then she's answering him properly, reaching up with a bare hand to tuck away a wayward strand of white hair. ] I'm Rogue.
[ well, that certainly is a name. his brow quirks the slightest bit as he leans back in to tape the wound, carefully again with only the left, the vibranium hand. ]
Bucky.
[ it's all he offers back before he's focused in again on carefully taping the gash. it's not really a difficult process, but there's always that annoyance of misplacing the strip the first time and the stickiness growing weaker when you have to replace it, so it's still best to do it right the first time and not have to worry about it later. that and tearing the sticker away could just agitate the wound further anyway, which does nothing to help with the healing, so. really, it's just the practical thing to do.
blood seeps as he tapes, which is inevitable, and though it mostly stays controlled, a bead forms just as he finishes the last, and it trickles down the side of her face. ]
Shit-- [ he quickly cups the edge of her chin to keep it staining her clothes as he uses his right hand to dig for a square of gauze. ] Sorry. Probably should have. Erm. I'm not so used to patching up others. And not making a mess.
[ it's vaguely put, but he seems to imply that he's hardly this clean about it when it comes to patching himself.
he uses the gauze to carefully soak up the drop, though the trail has already mostly dried and his attempt to clean it up only smears it and makes it worse. a faint knit forms between his brows, a flash of a frown directed at himself as he grabs another disinfectant wipe to rip open. ]
[ Bucky. it's not a name that's used much anymore, at least it wasn't in the world she came from. it's... old-fashioned, a name the boy next door would have had. the guy who got into all sorts of good-natured trouble but could be counted on. she knows without knowing just how fitting that description is for him. after nearly two decades of having hundreds of other minds inside her own, she's gotten pretty good at reading people and judging their character. she doesn't need to have him in her head to know he's a good guy at heart.
that trickle of blood is unnoticed until he's holding her chin, his touch careful despite (or because of) the metal of his hand. it's both strange and comfortingly familiar for him to have a metal arm that seems to function just like the real thing. she's reminded bittersweetly of Piotr, of their days back at the mansion and all the ones that had followed. the bitterness outways the sweet, though, so the memory is brushed aside in favor of concentrating on the man before her. ]
It's okay, sugar. I appreciate you doing this at all. Helping me when you don't have to. I can deal with a little mess in exchange for that.
[ she could deal with a whole lot of mess in exchange. they're both lucky that he'd shown up when he did and she hadn't been injured further, because then she'd either be dead or he'd have had a heck of a lot more patching up to do. which, while it's clear that he's done this before, probably many times on himself, she'd have hated to be even more of an inconvenience. ]
About that. [ there's a pause as he frees the alcohol swab and moves back in to clean up the smear. ] Can't really take credit for that, much as I want to. Technically, I wasn't even supposed to show my face, so.
[ he offers a sheepish smile. ] Guess I fucked that up, huh?
Wanda's the one that pieced together your movements though. I'm just the errand boy.
[ bucky shrugs, tucking the wipe back into its packaging after he's done wiping up the smear of blood. then he starts cleaning up the rest, collecting what needs to be tossed in one pile and replacing items that can still be used back into the emergency kit. ]
[ Wanda. They'd been tracking her movements? She frowns as he works, frantically turning over in her mind all that could mean. She'd thought she was being careful. If they'd been able to find her, then who else... ]
Then what were you sent to do?
[ She doesn't hide her wariness, a hint of fear in her expression for the first time since he'd shown up to save her. Turns out, he wasn't supposed to do that part. ]
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no subject
It's a genetic mutation. [ but mutants don't exist here, do they? not in the same way. people with powers, yes, but... they're different. everything is so different in the most unsettling, small ways. ] I have powers that are activated by touch. I can't control it.
[ her eyes stay firmly away from his expression as she elaborates, some part of her afraid to see his reaction to her words. she's trusting him and that trust can so easily be broken with just a simple look. ]
no subject
while bucky openly accepts how fucked up his whole kidnapping and brainwashing situation had been, he can't deny that the compartmentalizing he was forced to take on to survive doesn't come in handy. it helps with missions, letting him sort through information later without letting it affect him in immediacy, and here too, he only lets himself wholly react once his hand is clear of her face. ]
Sounds like a riot, [ he offers flatly, tucking away the spent wipe carefully back into the wrapping for easier cleanup. it's of course assuming one finds people who inherit epileptic fits something fun and joyous to pull the lottery of. ] Should I put my glove back on? [ he'd taken it off when they'd boarded to more easily enter the return coordinates. ]
I'm not sure that needs stitches, by the way. But it does need tape at the least. You got a preference? You'd still look stunning either way, really. Just a bit more badass if it's with the stitches.
no subject
shaking her head at his question, she tries to take a deeper breath and finally winces just slightly. too much too fast. ] You're fine without the glove. And I don't need the stitches, I'm badass enough without them.
[ the sad attempt at a sassy joke falls flat but still feels good in the attempt. it's an echo of who she used to be but she's determined to get back to that person. somehow, no matter how long it takes, she will overcome her past and become the woman she's supposed to be, attitude and all. ]
no subject
Oh, I don't doubt that. [ he doesn't bother hiding his amusement. the grin widens briefly before he moves to pluck a pack of surgical tape from the emergency kit. ] Tape, then.
[ bucky undoes the top, tugging out a few strips to work with. as he starts ripping them into workable sizes, he asks: ] So does the badass have a name?
no subject
She does. [ there's a pause there that's accompanied by the ghost of a smile and a hint of all the mischief she's capable of. it's only for a moment though, then she's answering him properly, reaching up with a bare hand to tuck away a wayward strand of white hair. ] I'm Rogue.
no subject
Bucky.
[ it's all he offers back before he's focused in again on carefully taping the gash. it's not really a difficult process, but there's always that annoyance of misplacing the strip the first time and the stickiness growing weaker when you have to replace it, so it's still best to do it right the first time and not have to worry about it later. that and tearing the sticker away could just agitate the wound further anyway, which does nothing to help with the healing, so. really, it's just the practical thing to do.
blood seeps as he tapes, which is inevitable, and though it mostly stays controlled, a bead forms just as he finishes the last, and it trickles down the side of her face. ]
Shit-- [ he quickly cups the edge of her chin to keep it staining her clothes as he uses his right hand to dig for a square of gauze. ] Sorry. Probably should have. Erm. I'm not so used to patching up others. And not making a mess.
[ it's vaguely put, but he seems to imply that he's hardly this clean about it when it comes to patching himself.
he uses the gauze to carefully soak up the drop, though the trail has already mostly dried and his attempt to clean it up only smears it and makes it worse. a faint knit forms between his brows, a flash of a frown directed at himself as he grabs another disinfectant wipe to rip open. ]
no subject
that trickle of blood is unnoticed until he's holding her chin, his touch careful despite (or because of) the metal of his hand. it's both strange and comfortingly familiar for him to have a metal arm that seems to function just like the real thing. she's reminded bittersweetly of Piotr, of their days back at the mansion and all the ones that had followed. the bitterness outways the sweet, though, so the memory is brushed aside in favor of concentrating on the man before her. ]
It's okay, sugar. I appreciate you doing this at all. Helping me when you don't have to. I can deal with a little mess in exchange for that.
[ she could deal with a whole lot of mess in exchange. they're both lucky that he'd shown up when he did and she hadn't been injured further, because then she'd either be dead or he'd have had a heck of a lot more patching up to do. which, while it's clear that he's done this before, probably many times on himself, she'd have hated to be even more of an inconvenience. ]
no subject
[ he offers a sheepish smile. ] Guess I fucked that up, huh?
Wanda's the one that pieced together your movements though. I'm just the errand boy.
[ bucky shrugs, tucking the wipe back into its packaging after he's done wiping up the smear of blood. then he starts cleaning up the rest, collecting what needs to be tossed in one pile and replacing items that can still be used back into the emergency kit. ]
no subject
Then what were you sent to do?
[ She doesn't hide her wariness, a hint of fear in her expression for the first time since he'd shown up to save her. Turns out, he wasn't supposed to do that part. ]