[ 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
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. ]