(Untitled)

[borncareless]

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[onlyapassenger]

Since settling into his own place outside of the Compound, Bucky's managed to get more than the few fitful hours of rest a night he was subsisting on for weeks, but the fact of the matter is, he's never been much of a heavy sleeper. Though he's not so paranoid as to sleep fully clothed like he would've done on the field, he keeps his combat knife nearby all the same, even if he's enough of a weapon in his own right that it's more for a measure of personal comfort than necessity.

So when the sound of a voice, of movement coming from the other room pulls him awake, he springs out of what he's been trying to pass off as a bed not yet fully alert, operating on instinct instead of reason as he wrenches open his door, fingers curled tightly around the handle of his knife. Barefoot, and wearing only a pair of novelty pajama pants -- one leg covered in red and white vertical stripes, the other with white stars on a blue background -- he doesn't cut the most imposing of figures as he enters the room, though his body language more than makes

[borncareless]

In that moment, there are no pretenses. Delysia is a scared, lost little girl, huddled under what she's pretty sure is a table, and though the presence of someone else should be comforting, all combined factors serve to make that not the case at all. Despite the little attention she's been paying to her new surroundings, there's no denying that they are new, not a place she's ever seen before, and the same goes for the man in front of her now. It's hard to see much in the dark, but she's certain that she doesn't know him, that he shouldn't be with her now. The accent alone, or lack thereof, is proof of that; he's got to be the first American she's spoken to since she left the country at all

[onlyapassenger]

With his suspicions confirmed, he's not too torn up about the fact that she's not so quick to trust him; at least she's not some bastard of a kid refusing to see a doctor like Jason was, so as far as new arrivals go, Bucky knows it could be worse. The adrenaline leaving his body as fast as it came, he wipes the remnants of sleep from his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before he lets both of his hands drop, resting his elbows on his knees as he settles in his crouch

[borncareless]

It's reassuring, at least a little, and Delysia lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The rest of this might still be nonsensical, but while she has no reason to take his word for it, she has no reason not to, either, and it isn't as if there's anyone else around. So sharp in its contrast, the quiet practically proves it, anyway, allowing her to focus on the many other questions filling her head. All this uncertainty, not knowing what to do, she doesn't like it in the slightest, but as much as she'd like to seem totally fine with this, she can't quite manage it, needs to know what the hell is even going on before she can attempt to.

"Alright, then," she replies, a little confidence creeping back into her voice, though not much, and it's mostly feigned, more noticeably so than is customary for her. Drawing in a deep breath, she contemplates, for a moment, what might be best to ask next, but finds that she can't settle on one thing. There's just too much. "If I'm so safe, where am I? And who are you?"