"That joke was a joke!" How the fuck could he have been born in 1917? Even if all the memories of growing up with him were fake, he couldn't be 100 years old. There's no way. It's just not possible.
... Just like people turning into animals isn't possible. Just like vampires aren't real. Sirens don't wear stupid hats. Hot bartenders don't eat dudes' faces in elevators.
Frozen in a block of ice sounds an awful lot like some kind of fairy tale or weird plot device in an action movie. If Rumlow wasn't soothing her with his hand on her back or rubbing her arms, she'd probably be having some kind of mental breakdown on the ground trying to fit all this shit together and pick out anything with a shred of truth to it. It's not so much that it's jarring or shattering her entire world, because that's been fragmented since the accident. It's just that there's so much to process. So many conflicting scenarios and too much information and she doesn't know if she can rely on any of it.
She clings to the hem of Rumlow's shirt, trying to get her expression back to some sort of neutrality. She ends up staring at her hands, at his chest, anything but his face or the lens of a camera. She's pensive, at least. Not floored anymore.
"So you're not military. You're... the UN on steroids?" An agent. Like the kind that handle things before they get ugly. The ones you don't see in the news. Spy movie shit. And Steve's part of that? Where does Bucky fit in? Where does she fit in?
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... Just like people turning into animals isn't possible. Just like vampires aren't real. Sirens don't wear stupid hats. Hot bartenders don't eat dudes' faces in elevators.
Frozen in a block of ice sounds an awful lot like some kind of fairy tale or weird plot device in an action movie. If Rumlow wasn't soothing her with his hand on her back or rubbing her arms, she'd probably be having some kind of mental breakdown on the ground trying to fit all this shit together and pick out anything with a shred of truth to it. It's not so much that it's jarring or shattering her entire world, because that's been fragmented since the accident. It's just that there's so much to process. So many conflicting scenarios and too much information and she doesn't know if she can rely on any of it.
She clings to the hem of Rumlow's shirt, trying to get her expression back to some sort of neutrality. She ends up staring at her hands, at his chest, anything but his face or the lens of a camera. She's pensive, at least. Not floored anymore.
"So you're not military. You're... the UN on steroids?" An agent. Like the kind that handle things before they get ugly. The ones you don't see in the news. Spy movie shit. And Steve's part of that? Where does Bucky fit in? Where does she fit in?