[It's his target, his mission. Captain America. Steve Rogers. It's so strange, the man in front of him is all four of those things at the same time, and yet none of them, and it makes Bucky's head hurt with it. Maybe he's made the wrong choice in coming here, the tension already feels like fingernails digging under his skin.
He doesn't move from the bed, legs still crossed and gloved hands clasped loosely in his lap, but there ends the facade of calm. His every muscle is clearly tensed, and his eyes watch Steve with the intensity of prey that's spotted a predator and isn't sure whether fight or flight is the correct response.]
Walked.
[His voice sounds rough and too quiet even to his own ears, but it's been a long time since he's used it last.]
no subject
He doesn't move from the bed, legs still crossed and gloved hands clasped loosely in his lap, but there ends the facade of calm. His every muscle is clearly tensed, and his eyes watch Steve with the intensity of prey that's spotted a predator and isn't sure whether fight or flight is the correct response.]
Walked.
[His voice sounds rough and too quiet even to his own ears, but it's been a long time since he's used it last.]
I'm good at not being seen.