nozhi: (they'll inherit your soul)
The Winter Soldier ([personal profile] nozhi) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet 2014-10-12 09:46 pm (UTC)

Better than sharing a room with diseased sheets and old bed pans.

[His unspoken fear drives Bucky's decision, but it holds water for other reasons. The bedridden never stood a chance against all this; they either expired without doctors to care for them or couldn't defend themselves against the infected. Either way, as quiet as the hospital seems, they can't have any expectations about vacancies.

Bucky quietly watches Rosalind go about collecting what she thinks she needs. He takes a few things for himself: a few stray rolls of bandages, a bottle of baby aspirin from which he immediately takes triple the dose, and a few scalpels should he ever run out of knives in a pinch. However, when she suggests what sounds suspiciously close to surgery, he bristles.

Just a big splinter, he tells himself. Nothing invasive, nothing near his vitals. Because of course she's right, of course he needs it out of him.]


That's the only way you can think of?

[And in here? What he intends to be a teasing dig comes out much less flippant than he would have liked.]

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