They hold hands. She asks questions. Together they walk through the snow back towards the main drag. The town's layout is pretty simple, Rumlow figures he must have missed the grocer on his way to the house -- just wanting to get out of the cold. Easy enough path to memorize anyway, so he won't need the escort next time. Even if the company is nice.
Once the more mundane questions are past at least, Kenzi asks something that actually gets Rumlow thinking. What was the first thing he remembered? He scrubs at his stubble in thought, letting the ambient sounds of their boots crunching in the snow echo around them.
"The first thing I remember is... that I'd been searching for someone." Rumlow doesn't know who. Or even why. Just that he hadn't found them yet. He looks down at Kenzi. "Maybe it was you."
Makes sense, if she's his wife. They'd been in an accident, so there's a chance they had been separated because of it. Whatever had happened to him, to her, the hospital doesn't want to say. It's about the only thing he can put together. Rumlow squeezes her hand a little, opening the door to the grocery.
"No peanuts. Got it. Ruins my plans for Thai food." It's a joke. He doesn't know how to make Thai. And as they step in out of the cold, kicking the snow off their boots on the door mat, Rumlow realizes, with a startling discomfort: he doesn't know how to make anything.
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Once the more mundane questions are past at least, Kenzi asks something that actually gets Rumlow thinking. What was the first thing he remembered? He scrubs at his stubble in thought, letting the ambient sounds of their boots crunching in the snow echo around them.
"The first thing I remember is... that I'd been searching for someone." Rumlow doesn't know who. Or even why. Just that he hadn't found them yet. He looks down at Kenzi. "Maybe it was you."
Makes sense, if she's his wife. They'd been in an accident, so there's a chance they had been separated because of it. Whatever had happened to him, to her, the hospital doesn't want to say. It's about the only thing he can put together. Rumlow squeezes her hand a little, opening the door to the grocery.
"No peanuts. Got it. Ruins my plans for Thai food." It's a joke. He doesn't know how to make Thai. And as they step in out of the cold, kicking the snow off their boots on the door mat, Rumlow realizes, with a startling discomfort: he doesn't know how to make anything.
"Uh."