[ He takes the correction in stride. No obligation, no, but he doubts they would simply part and never be drawn back by each other's respective gravities. Bruce knows what he can walk away from. ]
Alan.
[ The names don't matter. They know who they are. He follows, watching the man's six. ]
['Alan,' the man says, like he's been saying it all his life. Could be true. Not a deal-breaker if it isn't.
This one, though — he went through too much to seize the right to say 'Bucky' back in his tight, flesh-bound fist. He's not relaxing his grip anytime soon.
We're talking more than just one perishable resource, here, after all. We're talking networks. Which ones to keep live and electric, which ones you sure as hell cut the feed to before setting the motherboard alight.
Less than a quarter-mile, and they're there, moons bright over the dappled current, cutting countless little crescents into his vision. Bucky sees Alan's shape form beside him, disturbing the pattern. He examines them both, a shoulder's width apart, in the surface of the water. ]
See anything that looks like fish?
[ In other words — looks like water. Smells like water. Is it really? ]
[ Where the water ripples and it's not the wind. There are more than he's seen previously, and he gestures for Bucky to circle around and see if there's anywhere they stick to, or avoid. It's water, but this is an alien world. He doesn't have a damn testing kit on him, and Clark wouldn't be a good litmus even if Bruce shouted for him all the way out here. Sometimes it's a pain to have an invulnerable man on speed dial. ]
Take it from near the lilypads.
[ The benefit of daylight is having time to watch animals drink at the small pools they passed before. This water seems cleaner, but Bruce takes no chances. His attention flickers to Bucky, ]
[ He follows Alan's signal wordlessly, narrowing his scope of focus to the area indicated — sure enough, a small school of... something fishy, at the very least, has made itself at home near the bank where a large patch of blood-red lilypads have set up camp.
Bucky bends down, takes a knee, examining their behavior. Licks his lips as he tries to frame a good way to answer that question. ]
...Human-squared, I guess.
[ If something's poisonous, there's a chance he'll burn through it. There's also a chance it'll kill him. Not the most helpful, he knows.
(Bit of a been there, done that feel to it all. 'You used to wear newspaper in your shoes.') ]
[You guess. Something close to him, he can understand. Clark and Diana, tipping the scale towards gods on earth, have made him redefine what he knows of physics. The world was getting less simple, too fast. ]
[ Bruce hands him the canteen. ]
How'd you lose that arm?
[ A higher healing factor that can't replace limbs, that's obvious. ]
[ More and more complicated. He flicks his eyes back up to Alan, takes the canteen, and the space of a moment or two — fiddling with the lid — before deciding on his response. ]
Protecting my best friend.
[ Concise and true enough as anything else. Alan doesn't need to know he'd murdered the parents of the man whose armored suit blasted it directly off his body. ]
[ He could have chosen any answer. There's a patient game they have going — one step at each other, prodding at the shifting darkness they see reflected in the other person. Those who walk close to the abyss are the ones most likely to lose their footing. Harvey Dent fell. So did he, not so long ago. ]
Sounds like someone I should meet.
[ Meet, stalk, technicalities. A friend is an anchor where there should be. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Exchanging.
[ Minor correction. 'Sharing' implies they'll be obliged to keep a tether, one to the other. We don't know if we're that Friendly or Funny just yet. ]
Name's Bucky. Creek bed's at your two o'clock.
[ Two fingers summon the man to come with, fall back in step. A pretty good offer for a first trade. ]
no subject
Alan.
[ The names don't matter. They know who they are. He follows, watching the man's six. ]
no subject
This one, though — he went through too much to seize the right to say 'Bucky' back in his tight, flesh-bound fist. He's not relaxing his grip anytime soon.
We're talking more than just one perishable resource, here, after all. We're talking networks. Which ones to keep live and electric, which ones you sure as hell cut the feed to before setting the motherboard alight.
Less than a quarter-mile, and they're there, moons bright over the dappled current, cutting countless little crescents into his vision. Bucky sees Alan's shape form beside him, disturbing the pattern. He examines them both, a shoulder's width apart, in the surface of the water. ]
See anything that looks like fish?
[ In other words — looks like water. Smells like water. Is it really? ]
no subject
[ Where the water ripples and it's not the wind. There are more than he's seen previously, and he gestures for Bucky to circle around and see if there's anywhere they stick to, or avoid. It's water, but this is an alien world. He doesn't have a damn testing kit on him, and Clark wouldn't be a good litmus even if Bruce shouted for him all the way out here. Sometimes it's a pain to have an invulnerable man on speed dial. ]
Take it from near the lilypads.
[ The benefit of daylight is having time to watch animals drink at the small pools they passed before. This water seems cleaner, but Bruce takes no chances. His attention flickers to Bucky, ]
Metabolism?
[ For practical knowledge, naturally. ]
no subject
Bucky bends down, takes a knee, examining their behavior. Licks his lips as he tries to frame a good way to answer that question. ]
...Human-squared, I guess.
[ If something's poisonous, there's a chance he'll burn through it. There's also a chance it'll kill him. Not the most helpful, he knows.
(Bit of a been there, done that feel to it all. 'You used to wear newspaper in your shoes.') ]
no subject
[ Bruce hands him the canteen. ]
How'd you lose that arm?
[ A higher healing factor that can't replace limbs, that's obvious. ]
no subject
Protecting my best friend.
[ Concise and true enough as anything else. Alan doesn't need to know he'd murdered the parents of the man whose armored suit blasted it directly off his body. ]
no subject
Sounds like someone I should meet.
[ Meet, stalk, technicalities. A friend is an anchor where there should be. ]