bakerstreet | the picture prompt meme

[Choice made, Bucky falls into step easily. The cane only confirms his conclusions, and he's careful to stay a little behind and a little to the left of Matt, well out of the way. But the name draws him up short.

Barnes is out of the question. There were plenty of news reports detailing every aspect of the leaked HYDRA files - his name among them. James, too, for mostly the same reason. And Bucky... well. He's not really Bucky anymore, is he? He's as much the Soldier as he is anything else, but that's no name he can give.

Brow furrowed, he paces along. It'll have to do.]

It's Bucky.

[It still feels... wrong. Unsettling. He was wearing a dead man's face, and now his name, too.]

[Matt notes where Bucky stands and how he keeps a relative distance as they begin walking out of the alley and back onto the street. People move away for him as always, though he still uses the cane. It's necessary in order to conform to how the public perceives someone like him, otherwise people will ask questions.

He really doesn't want to answer those questions.]

Nice to meet you. I'm Matt Murdock. Maybe you've heard of my firm, Nelson and Murdock?

[They were certainly in the news enough after taking on the Fisk case, but someone outside the city or who doesn't keep up with those sorts of things might be unaware. Might be better if he doesn't know, honestly.]

[The name sounds vaguely familiar. Bucky doesn't watch a whole lot of TV, but newspapers are cheap and newsstands dot street corners all around the city. He can't recall if he's ever read anything about Nelson and Murdock, but then, he doesn't recall a lot of things. Too many things.]

In passing. [He stuffs his hands in his pockets, tugs the coat a little tighter around himself.] In the papers, I think.

Of course. I'm sure the papers have a lot to say.

[He smiles as they walk, very well-aware that everyone around the city has something to say on the topic. What he doesn't hear on the news he learns from Foggy or Karen, not to mention the various clients who come to the office, hoping for their assistance now that their fame has spread much further.]

So, where are you from?

[He wonders how much information he'll be able to pry from this man. If nothing, that's alright too. At this point giving him some help is more important than sating his own curiosity. If offering some time in the office, a place to clean up and a bite to eat is how he can help as Matt Murdock rather than the Devil, he'll take it.]

[His head says Russia. Сиби́рь. Snow and wind and ice so frigid that it is as much a part of him as the arm is, now.

But the museum said America. New York. And something in him can remember sweltering summer heat and ice trucks and the odd jobs that scarcely paid the bills before the War.

He doesn't know which is safer to say, so he picks the one that is most true.]

Brooklyn.

Brooklyn! A bit of a trip, but not too far.

[Now, what was a guy from Brooklyn doing beating guys up in an alley? No... he should stop asking himself these questions for now, especially since they've arrived at the firm's building.]

It's in here.

[He opens the door and lets them both in, keeping up a relatively brisk pace to hopefully avoid being seen by someone else who might ask questions. Matt doesn't feel like explaining what he doesn't know himself, or making up a lie on the spot.

Fortunately he doesn't hear anyone nearby, and as he expected, the office is empty. After opening the door up with his keys, he lets Bucky walk in first, then shuts and locks the door behind them.

Hopefully bringing this guy here won't turn out to be a mistake, but he's ready to fight if he has no choice... as well as making it clear he knows Bucky has a good deal of blood on him.]

There's a small kitchen to your left, bathroom to your right, and a closet across from there. After you wash up you can borrow some of my clothes.

[The wariness that bled off while they walked returns, full-force, when they step into the building. Bucky allows himself to be ushered in first, footsteps unusually light for someone his size. He notes the kitchen, the bathroom-- and also the windows, the fire escape, the proximity to next building, and the lack of anyone else present.

It's the latter that eases his nerves the most, and he breathes out a breath, moving aside.]

Thanks. [There's a furrow in his brow, though, unease still scratching at the back of his mind.] ...why are you helping me?

[Not that he's ungrateful. But the city's not known for its hospitality - it's why he's here. It's easy to be anonymous when no one gives a damn.]

[Matt shrugs off his coat and hangs it up before walking over to Karen's desk and sitting on the edge. He collapses his cane again and places it carelessly down next to him. Not like he actually needs the thing.]

I like to help people.

[It's what he does, both as a lawyer and as the Devil. Not that most people have a great impression of lawyers, and barely anyone knows about his vigilante identity. It makes sense that someone would be wary.]

Why do you ask? Is there something I should know about other than the guys in the alley?

[Wishful thinking that he might actually get an answer.]

[Bucky's gaze darts up. There is, absolutely - but how can he say 'you're harboring an international fugitive and hydra's favorite weapon'? It's absurd. No. If he's quiet and careful he'll be on his way soon enough, and this man will never have to know the truth. He'll slip out of his life, and never to realize the Winter Soldier darkened his doorstep.]

Most people would think that's a good reason to keep walking.

[Bucky shrugs off his jacket, folding it carefully. The sleeves are speckled with blood, but something in him rebels at the thought of throwing away a perfectly functional coat. Waste not.

The gloves, on the other hand, are a lost cause. He's careful when he pulls the one off his left hand - it's noisy in a way public prosthetics aren't - but there's blood dried between the plates of his knuckles. It needs cleaning, definitely. Probably maintenance, too.]

I'm not like most people.

[He smiles, though he can hear Bucky's reaction to his comment. There's obviously something he's hiding, but how to explain that he can clearly hear peoples' heart beats and shifts in breathing, even from many feet away?

For now he just continues to listen. He can hear every sound coming from that arm, and it just spurs on his curiosity. He'll have to try and find a roundabout way to bring it up at some point. Being too direct might make the guy nervous.]

Is there anyone at all I can call for you?

[One whisper that he's in New York, and Rogers-- Steve would come running. He knows that. He also know he's not ready for that. Not now, maybe not ever. But there's no one else. No one safe.]

No.

[It's quiet but firm. He won't risk it.]

I'll be out of your way soon.

[Just as soon as he gets a little cleaned up. He eyes the sink, then his shirt (too bloody - he'd broken one of their noses, he thinks), and starts to pull it off.]

[He can hear the lie, he always can. Nonetheless, Bucky is obviously sincere about not wanting to call whoever that might be, so he lets the issue drop.]

It's fine. I don't have anything to do until later tonight.

[And he doubts this should take very long, certainly not long enough to interfere with his work on the streets. Matt wonders if whatever Bucky got up to will have a ripple effect at all once those men wake up and contact their friends.

Maybe that would be how he learns about him. Possibly. The thought is a bit discomforting, because he has to wonder just who he might be releasing into the public here.]

You seem pretty calm, considering what happened.

[It's just as well that Matt's blind - the ugly mess of scar tissue that surrounds the arm would prompt horror from any civilian. Horror, and far too many questions that he's not prepared to answer. At least, not honestly.

Bucky wraps the cleanest part of the shirt around his flesh hand, then twists the tap on. No fingerprints. He won't repay Matt's kindness by leaving evidence behind - evidence that, if discovered, would put the man in far more danger than he'd ever deserve.]

Just a back-alley scrap. Not the first time.

[He's not sure why he says it. It wasn't in the museum exhibit on James Buchanan Barnes. He's not sure it's even a real memory. It just... feels right. Like it's an immutable fact.

(If there's a word to describe the Winter Soldier's fights, a scrap isn't it. Relentless murder is more accurate.)

He dips the shirt under the stream of water, then starts scrubbing the dried blood from his hands. Flesh is easy-- metal is harder. It drips and pools and dries in the crevices between the plating, and he cleans it with a mechanical thoroughness.]

Well, I can understand that.

[Some people just attract trouble, while there are others who are attracted to it. Which one was Bucky? He probably would never find out.

He can hear him scrubbing at the metal, and decides that the noises are loud enough that he wouldn't be questioned too much for mentioning it.]

Is your prosthetic metal? That's unusual.

[He isn't thinking in terms of evidence at all, not right now. Whatever his curiosity about this guy, he doesn't expect him to be some sort of wanted criminal. Maybe another vigilante, actually. Wouldn't that be something?]

[The methodical scrubbing pauses, Bucky's hand briefly stilling on the cool metal.]

Yes. [The truth.] How'd you know?

[He hadn't been exceptionally quiet, no, but it's still a leap from a blind man.]

[And the noise stops. That tells him more than anything else would have, probably. It tells him that it's probably not something he should know.]

I could hear it. [Also the truth.]

I was just curious. Is this a new thing?

[He tries not to look too interested. Not like he wonders if this is a crime-fighting thing.]

[And now he can't help but wonder just how deep Matt's curiosity runs. There were photos, reports, newspaper articles-- the soldier with the metal arm on a freeway in DC. At the Triskelion. On the helicarriers. It's not a secret, not any more. It's only a matter of time before he figures it out.]

Not new. [Not by a long shot.] Just... an experiment.

[Matt hasn't made the connection yet, but the fact that he's thinking along the lines of vigilante shows that the tidbit is whirling around somewhere in his subconscious.

He's heard the news- everyone has. It really is only a matter of time before the details add up. Maybe another word or fact related to the story and it'll all click together.]

An experiment?

[That's an odd way to put it.] You mean a new prosthetic technique?

[He needs to leave. But bolting is suspicious, will only result in the police being called - the man's a lawyer, after all. He can-- he can stall, maybe. And edge for the door.]

Something like that. [Bucky can't quite keep the bitter edge out of his tone.] Too dangerous for the public.

[Too dangerous for the...

That's when it clicks.

Matt rises abruptly to his feet, moving much more quickly to block the door. If he has a most wanted criminal here, an assassin and a spy, then he can't just let him go.]

You're him. The one that was all over the news.

[Damn. Bucky halts, gaze darting between the door Matt's now blocking and the window. He could survive the fall. He's done it before.]

Yes.

[He can already feel the Soldier settling back into his bones. He could handle this. No one would ever know--

No. He can't-- he's not Bucky, but he's not Soldat either. He can't be.]

It's not-- not what you think.

It's not? You just confirmed it.

[And now Matt is on edge, more than before. He listens closely to any signs in the man's heartbeat or breathing that he might be preparing to attack or make a run for it.

Shame if the office had to be damaged because of this, but... some things are just too important to let go. Matt has to keep up with his principles, and if what he's heard is true, the Winter Soldier is by far the most dangerous criminal he'd ever faced before in his life.

Not an encouraging thought, that one.]

What do I have wrong?

[Bucky takes a careful sidestep, trying to edge towards the office proper. He keeps his front to Matt, back to the wall and hands loose and open at his sides. ]

I'm not here to hurt anyone.

[It's the truth. His heart rate is elevated, skittish, but he's not lying. He doesn't want to hurt anyone-- but he won't let himself be taken again. ]

I'll go. No one else needs to know.

[Matt remains firmly in front of the door, listening very closely to Bucky's movements and heart rate.

Interesting that he isn't lying, but not necessarily enough to just let him go.]

I need more reassurance than that.

[What does he need? Matt isn't even certain. What he really wants is to keep an ear on him for a little while, make sure he honestly isn't up to anything. Find out why he isn't. For a spy and assassin, he is awfully open about many things, after all. That can't be ordinary.]

[Of course it's not that easy. It never is. He's a little surprised Matt hasn't called for the police yet, though - he's on the Most Wanted list in this country, probably others. He'd been filmed in DC. Any sane person would have been out the door already, with the cops and the FBI and every other three-letter agency hanging on their every word for a chance to catch him. The fact that Matt hasn't... Bucky's not sure what it means.

(Matt hasn't yet. Bucky can't afford to do anything but prepare for the worst.)

He chances another step to the side.]

What do you want to know?

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