Bucky pushes himself up to his feet slowly. The old girl hears him get up and comes padding over from the kitchen, nudging at his flesh hand. He can't even be angry at her, rubbing her head gently. Some more human company might be good for her, even if Zemo's company is always. Questionable.
"I can make space in the barn. Cover it up with some tarp," Bucky offers. He would have rescinded that offer with all that shade Zemo was throwing on him and his place but Zemo has wisely chosen not to speak any of those things out loud. It does mean that his little rescue farm will have slightly less space but it's a big enough barn that it shouldn't bother them too much.
Of course, the place is so run down that it doesn't look like it can survive a strong gust of wind. But the barn, like everything else here, has seen some shit and is sturdier than she looks.
"Unless it's not good enough for you." Bucky can't keep the scowling juvenile sarcasm out of his voice.
He hides a roll of his eyes at that petulant response. Really. See if he tries to spread any generosity. "I'm certain it will suffice."
There's a brief, stiff smile as he moves to the kitchen for now, peering through cabinets to see what sort of food, if any, that Bucky has squirreled away.
"... You seem fond of animals," he starts casually.
There's only boring staples on those shelves. He needn't bother looking for anything nice. The bottom shelves are reserved for dog food. The food fit for human consumption includes half a bag of rolled oats, the last stash of rice, some herbs that look like dried lawn trimmings, scattered small boxes of dried goods like different coloured beans, and several emergency cans he hasn't touched. Tomatoes, tuna, little bit of fruit. But if Zemo accused Bucky of eating only plain rice the last two weeks he wouldn't have denied it. If he's expecting something better than prison food he's only setting himself up for disappointment.
"No one else would take them in." He thinks he isn't good with them. Needs a gentler touch. More research. But most experts are farmers, and rescues or whatever old age/palliative operation he's found himself running are fewer and further between.
He couldn't have done it when he was younger, if he'd come back from the war. He would have wanted his old city life, with all its conveniences, surrounded by people. Now he's finding he doesn't like people very much. Especially not this one nosying around in his kitchen.
"What're you looking for?" he tries to change the subject.
I hate when that happens! You swear you answered, but nope!
"Something to eat," he answers, just a bit of a pout on his lips. There really-- isn't much, is there? Even his cabinets were likely more stocked in Latvia. But he's made it on less in his life, in far more dire circumstances than having a roof over his head. So he'll just go about collecting the oats and poking around for pans to begin it in.
"You haven't eaten yet, have you?" It's not really a question. "I will handle breakfast, but the least you can do is come and join me."
It won't be anything terribly fancy -- just the oats with some milk if Bucky has it, water if he doesn't. He can top it with the bit of fruit he spotted in the pantry. It will certainly be a bit different from plain rice at least.
At least I turned on my phone screen and there it was 😆
"I told you, I didn't have much food." He also just woke up, so. Kind of a shitty animal caretaker. Most responsible folk would have been up by now, fed their four-legged friends, accomplished more than breakfast. Bucky is on his feet, so. Expecting anything more than that might be asking too much.
The offer of breakfast is met with a suspicious, wary look. But Bucky eventually relents and nods.
"Fine. I'll go get cleaned up." He could probably shave a bit. Put a shirt on. Make himself look marginally more presentable. Although other than a couple of formalwear pieces he's not sure he has anything that doesn't have a hole in them.
If he wanted to poison Bucky, he wouldn't be so sly about it. He'd kill him in a far more forward fashion anyway. So for now, he makes the oats and uses a bit of the fruit to top it and flavor it.
He's glad to find at least a couple bowls for their breakfast and actual utensils. By the time Bucky is done dressing, Zemo has set the table and seems to have contented himself with the dog who seems to be hopeful she'll get a scrap or two.
Or maybe she's just enjoying the head scritches she's getting.
The temptation to crawl out the window and make a run for it is there, juvenile and not well thought out and shortsighted though it might be. He'd be leaving the old girl behind. He'd have to leave them all behind. And who's to say that Zemo won't simply leave and track him down again?
Bucky spends a long time hunched over the sink, brushing his teeth and half-assing a shave. If he climbs into the shower he might not climb back out again so he settles for wetting a towel and rubbing himself clean that way. Well, not as clean as a shower. But that can wait.
He emerges with a fresh shirt on and gym shorts, glancing at Zemo and the happily panting dog stepping left and right, relishing in the attention. He shows up out of the blue, makes Bucky upset, tries to win the dog over. And claims he's just looking for breakfast.
Sure.
Fine.
He pulls a chair out and sits and glares at Zemo for a while before touching his food, pulling the bowl in a little closer. Then he seems a bit more content with staring into his bowl and nudging the fruit around with his spoon.
"Don't feed her anything weird," Bucky warns. "She's old and decrepit. You'll make her throw up everywhere."
"I would never." He gives the dog another pat on the head before he gives a smile. "And what about you... are you too old and decrepit to eat something as simple as oats and fruit, James? It does seem you rather enjoy the plain rice more... hardly enough to sustain you though."
Pathetic, really, but he bites back that remark.
Instead, he decides to make a casual conversation in another way-- "What other sort of animals do you have here, James?"
"I haven't been to town in a while." As if he's actually left the confines of his property recently. He'll go when the feed runs out, or when he needs more dog food. In fact the animals are the only reason he doesn't starve through winter. He ends up getting some food for himself on his way back after he gets their needs sorted. Living alone has the added benefit of not getting guilted about his self-neglect.
"There's a cow and a chicken in the barn. Occasionally you'll find an egg." They're all rescues, so they're not meant to produce anything that could sustain one person, let alone two. Needless to say, Bucky will be Very Displeased if something happens to one or both of them. Even though it's a miracle they've lived this long given Bucky's periodical cycles of unintentional neglect.
"We used to joke about retiring on a farm," he offers after a pregnant pause even though he doesn't really much want to talk. Especially not about Steve. "I had goats, in Wakanda."
He doesn't have to ask who the other party is in this 'we'. Bucky doesn't have a terribly large social circle and somehow he doubts he's speaking about the current king of Wakanda. Although the mention of goats has him cracking the slightest smile. "How fitting. I hear they're stubborn."
And what is this shell of a man if not stubborn? To even still be here after all the horrors he's seen. Zemo is equal parts baffled and envious of his will to get up and do even as much as he does.
"They snap, but their bite doesn't hurt." Funnily enough, they don't respond well to prodding either. Zemo likely wouldn't like them.
"It was quiet. Peaceful." Took some getting used to, especially trying to do everything with one arm, but Bucky had loved it in the end. He never thought he would ever be that safe around children, but the whole community had embraced him. Would have lived out the rest of his days there if he could, if they let him stay. He suspects the elders wouldn't have minded, but it wasn't his path in the end. And he didn't want to bring them any trouble.
It was the kind of place where the nightmares had stopped, for a while. He misses that most of all. He's got the peace and quiet out here, some shambles of a routine. Having a few animals that depended on that routine didn't turn out too disastrously. The nightmares came back, though. And he didn't really have anyone to talk to frankly about them. Receiving counsel from an elder isn't the same as a therapist's 57 step program.
"Thinking of a holiday?" That'll be a bit awkward. Zemo's kind of persona non grata there.
There's an amused huff at the question. Wouldn't that be quite the holiday... "Curiosity."
Maybe he's just trying to suss out more of what Bucky has done in Zemo's absence. He shifts his weight a bit, looking Bucky over. "Did many know of your-- history there?"
If they did, it doesn't sound as if they judged him overly harshly.
"They knew enough." Shuri and T'Challa wouldn't have just airdropped Bucky into the village and not warned them that he's dangerous, mentally unstable. At least, he wouldn't believe that they didn't tell anyone that they need to be ready to put the crazy one-armed foreigner down if he starts spiralling.
"Didn't seal me into a mud hut and leave me to rot, if that's what you're worried about." Even if that's the kind of fate he deserves. They might be eyeing something less pleasant than that for Zemo though. They won't be happy to know that he's out and about. Especially the fact that he's here, after all that time they spent trying to help Bucky.
"Oh, I can certainly see that." He tilts his head thoughtfully, those words on the tip of his tongue. How would he react to those old words? Would there be a spark of the soldier in him, or are they useless? He doesn't try yet, of course. It seems in poor taste.
Besides, no doubt Bucky may physically throw him out if he tried. It's easier to play pleasant guest for now, he supposes.
"My father lived in the country, you know. In his old age. He enjoyed the solitude... the time spent with just himself in his garden."
That's... unexpected. Like being slapped with an olive branch when he was expecting more poking and needling. For a moment Bucky doesn't seem sure what to do with that information. And then he just returns to spooning his oats into his mouth with a small little scoff.
"I'm older than him," Bucky points out. He's not going to speak on behalf of all old people but living that relatively uncomplicated life in solitude has its appeal.
Maybe... it is a little lonely. But Bucky feels safer too, out here. Nobody's looking for him - or so he thought. He can't hurt anyone. Nobody would know if he died out here. Maybe just the Wakandans if they put something in his left arm, letting them know it's attached to a decomposing corpse and they can come pick it up at their convenience.
"You talk a lot for somebody who's spent time in solitude." Don't say Bucky never sugarcoats anything.
"I suppose you do have a point. You don't look it, of course, but I'm sure there are plenty of old fashioned notions that would be startling to hear out of a mouth that looks so young." But it's part of the interest. A relic from the past, brought to modern day, taken apart bit by bit.
And now left alone to his own very poor devices, it seems. A shame.
"Do I?" He arches a brow. "Maybe I've simply missed conversation, James. It's been a very long time."
Old fashioned. Yeah. That's a nice way of putting just how out of touch with reality he is. Both literally and metaphorically speaking. Out here though there's none of that. The strays don't care how he talks, what he thinks, any of those old values he still holds onto.
"Maybe you should get a dog." He's not necessarily mocking Zemo. Okay, well, maybe a little bit. He's a spiteful and bitter grumpy old man, and he's clearly given up on raising his walking stick and shaking it in the air telling Zemo to git off his lawn. What can he say? But he's only half-kidding about a dog. She's helped him a lot through more bad days than he cares to admit he ever has had even though she doesn't talk back.
"Is this what you want? Living in the country in your old age." Of course, Zemo could afford many more comforts and indulgent little luxuries. Assuming he even lives that long. It's not always a blessing. Bucky's continued existence is testament to that.
"I have never been one for pets, really," he answers casually. "Too busy, so much travel... it wouldn't have been very fair. I imagine my son may have changed that, eventually. It was hard to say no to him..."
And children always reach a point where they're insistent on pets and swear that they could absolutely care for them. He supposes that won't be a concern anymore...
There's a bit of a sigh, and then a short chuckle. "I never considered old age, if I am honest. It had seemed far away, and now--"
Well, he hadn't planned on living so long. But here he is, only growing older. "I suppose it has its merits when you want to be left alone. I'm more accustomed to life in bustling cities though. I'm not certain I would know what to do with the quiet."
Well then. With any luck the quiet out here will drive Zemo crazy enough to not want to outstay his welcome (nevermind the fact that he's already outstaying his welcome right now).
"The closest city is a few hours' drive away. Nobody would know you there either." If he feels like leaving to chase greener pastures, so to speak. Don't let Bucky's irritable disposition stop him.
Bucky hadn't considered old age either. He's living what he thought it's supposed to look like. Mixed in with a bit of what had worked for him out in Wakanda. It's not really the same, out here on his own. He doesn't know how many more decades of this he will have. At some point maybe he'll be okay enough to care about the house not falling apart on him. He's not quite there yet.
"Thanks for breakfast," he mutters quietly once he finishes his oats. Yeah it's his own oats, but it's not like he would have bothered cooking them this morning. There are hardly any dishes drying on the rack.
Oh, not likely. Zemo was speaking of his past. Now? He's not certain what he enjoys. The idea of bustling cities, people all around after being locked away by himself for years upon years seems... daunting. Overstimulating in ways. He'd tolerate it, of course. He's remarkably good at tolerating discomforts, inconveniences... but who's to say how much he would enjoy it.
Besides, he's an international terrorist. Surely there is always a chance someone could spot him, or the Wakandans could track him down if he made himself too well-known. No, best to stay put for now.
There's a pleased smile at the small show of gratitude. "Of course, James. It's the least I can do for your... generosity. Allowing me to stay."
He collects Zemo's bowl once he's done and brings them both to the sink. For all the evident self-neglect and the way the state of the house seems to reflect the state of his mind, Bucky is still keeping a few self-care habits. He still dutifully keeps the sink empty instead of letting dishes pile up. He still showers and grooms himself. Brushes his animals and try to feed them on a more regular schedule than he feeds himself. Maybe not all is lost yet.
"I need to do some work in the barn. You can go get a bed and whatever else you need or move your car in." No, Bucky isn't intentionally trying to help Zemo. He doesn't want any more unwanted guests showing up or to be implicated in whatever shit Zemo got himself into, that's all.
"If I leave, will you use your chance to escape? Seems a shame to leave behind these animals that depend on you, doesn't it?" It's perhaps one of the very few things that he thinks will give Bucky pause before he runs off to escape being found.
"But a proper bed, yes, some clothes if I can find anything in the nearest town... that seems a good idea."
Bucky snorts and doesn’t dignify that with a response. Sure, he’ll climb out of the broken window of his own house. Slink away like a runaway teen.
“Sure, you’ll find me on the highway riding my cow out of town.” The better alternative would be for Zemo to leave and then Bucky can decide if he’s rattled enough by his unwanted guest showing up to pack up and leave.
Drying his hands off after drying the dishes, Bucky heads out for the barn. His dog seems to want to follow, but. It also seems rude to leave the only guest in years just sitting there. She looks out the door, then turns back to look at Zemo, then looks back at the door, uncertain if she should sit and stay or follow the grumpy old man out.
The dog doesn't have to wonder for long as Zemo moves to follow Bucky out, himself. He does need to store his car after all, make some plans for the other things he'll need to be comfortable. It's not exactly convenient, living so far out... but on the other hand, it means less a chance for Wakandans to work their way into his business.
Into their business.
"It seems you've made quite a few animal friends, at least..." Now if he can just graduate to other humans, he may be closer to a man than a weapon.
It feels like any amount of Zemo is too much Zemo. Probably the result of spending so much time in isolation. Even if Steve was still around, Bucky might bristle and grumble and squirm uneasily if he stuck around long enough to see the cracks in this veneer of a life that Bucky's carved out for himself.
The barn is not in the tidiest condition, but Bucky's clearly made an effort. He feeds his animals better than he feeds himself and his unexpected guests. He's been cleaning out the stalls, or the place would smell a lot worse than it currently does. He'd rather be left alone to sweep the floor and brush his cow, but, fine, he'll shoot glares and make conversation. It'll take him some time to get used to talking so much.
"They were due to be. Retired." He wouldn't claim to be so heroic as to have 'rescued' them. But as an animal that his old owners no longer have any use for, that's not as efficient or productive or easy to keep sedated and under control anymore, he can sympathise. "I had space for them. That's all." And if Zemo has any other ideas about his milkless cow, his puppyless dog and the occasional egg a week chicken, Bucky will most definitely not be having space for Zemo.
Even if the old girl is quite delighted with the company and seems to be giving Zemo heart-eyes whenever Bucky's not looking.
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"I can make space in the barn. Cover it up with some tarp," Bucky offers. He would have rescinded that offer with all that shade Zemo was throwing on him and his place but Zemo has wisely chosen not to speak any of those things out loud. It does mean that his little rescue farm will have slightly less space but it's a big enough barn that it shouldn't bother them too much.
Of course, the place is so run down that it doesn't look like it can survive a strong gust of wind. But the barn, like everything else here, has seen some shit and is sturdier than she looks.
"Unless it's not good enough for you." Bucky can't keep the scowling juvenile sarcasm out of his voice.
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There's a brief, stiff smile as he moves to the kitchen for now, peering through cabinets to see what sort of food, if any, that Bucky has squirreled away.
"... You seem fond of animals," he starts casually.
I wrote half this tag then fell asleep 😆
"No one else would take them in." He thinks he isn't good with them. Needs a gentler touch. More research. But most experts are farmers, and rescues or whatever old age/palliative operation he's found himself running are fewer and further between.
He couldn't have done it when he was younger, if he'd come back from the war. He would have wanted his old city life, with all its conveniences, surrounded by people. Now he's finding he doesn't like people very much. Especially not this one nosying around in his kitchen.
"What're you looking for?" he tries to change the subject.
I hate when that happens! You swear you answered, but nope!
"You haven't eaten yet, have you?" It's not really a question. "I will handle breakfast, but the least you can do is come and join me."
It won't be anything terribly fancy -- just the oats with some milk if Bucky has it, water if he doesn't. He can top it with the bit of fruit he spotted in the pantry. It will certainly be a bit different from plain rice at least.
At least I turned on my phone screen and there it was 😆
The offer of breakfast is met with a suspicious, wary look. But Bucky eventually relents and nods.
"Fine. I'll go get cleaned up." He could probably shave a bit. Put a shirt on. Make himself look marginally more presentable. Although other than a couple of formalwear pieces he's not sure he has anything that doesn't have a hole in them.
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He's glad to find at least a couple bowls for their breakfast and actual utensils. By the time Bucky is done dressing, Zemo has set the table and seems to have contented himself with the dog who seems to be hopeful she'll get a scrap or two.
Or maybe she's just enjoying the head scritches she's getting.
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Bucky spends a long time hunched over the sink, brushing his teeth and half-assing a shave. If he climbs into the shower he might not climb back out again so he settles for wetting a towel and rubbing himself clean that way. Well, not as clean as a shower. But that can wait.
He emerges with a fresh shirt on and gym shorts, glancing at Zemo and the happily panting dog stepping left and right, relishing in the attention. He shows up out of the blue, makes Bucky upset, tries to win the dog over. And claims he's just looking for breakfast.
Sure.
Fine.
He pulls a chair out and sits and glares at Zemo for a while before touching his food, pulling the bowl in a little closer. Then he seems a bit more content with staring into his bowl and nudging the fruit around with his spoon.
"Don't feed her anything weird," Bucky warns. "She's old and decrepit. You'll make her throw up everywhere."
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Pathetic, really, but he bites back that remark.
Instead, he decides to make a casual conversation in another way-- "What other sort of animals do you have here, James?"
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"There's a cow and a chicken in the barn. Occasionally you'll find an egg." They're all rescues, so they're not meant to produce anything that could sustain one person, let alone two. Needless to say, Bucky will be Very Displeased if something happens to one or both of them. Even though it's a miracle they've lived this long given Bucky's periodical cycles of unintentional neglect.
"We used to joke about retiring on a farm," he offers after a pregnant pause even though he doesn't really much want to talk. Especially not about Steve. "I had goats, in Wakanda."
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And what is this shell of a man if not stubborn? To even still be here after all the horrors he's seen. Zemo is equal parts baffled and envious of his will to get up and do even as much as he does.
Even if it could certainly be better.
"What was it like? Living in Wakanda."
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"It was quiet. Peaceful." Took some getting used to, especially trying to do everything with one arm, but Bucky had loved it in the end. He never thought he would ever be that safe around children, but the whole community had embraced him. Would have lived out the rest of his days there if he could, if they let him stay. He suspects the elders wouldn't have minded, but it wasn't his path in the end. And he didn't want to bring them any trouble.
It was the kind of place where the nightmares had stopped, for a while. He misses that most of all. He's got the peace and quiet out here, some shambles of a routine. Having a few animals that depended on that routine didn't turn out too disastrously. The nightmares came back, though. And he didn't really have anyone to talk to frankly about them. Receiving counsel from an elder isn't the same as a therapist's 57 step program.
"Thinking of a holiday?" That'll be a bit awkward. Zemo's kind of persona non grata there.
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Maybe he's just trying to suss out more of what Bucky has done in Zemo's absence. He shifts his weight a bit, looking Bucky over. "Did many know of your-- history there?"
If they did, it doesn't sound as if they judged him overly harshly.
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"Didn't seal me into a mud hut and leave me to rot, if that's what you're worried about." Even if that's the kind of fate he deserves. They might be eyeing something less pleasant than that for Zemo though. They won't be happy to know that he's out and about. Especially the fact that he's here, after all that time they spent trying to help Bucky.
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Besides, no doubt Bucky may physically throw him out if he tried. It's easier to play pleasant guest for now, he supposes.
"My father lived in the country, you know. In his old age. He enjoyed the solitude... the time spent with just himself in his garden."
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"I'm older than him," Bucky points out. He's not going to speak on behalf of all old people but living that relatively uncomplicated life in solitude has its appeal.
Maybe... it is a little lonely. But Bucky feels safer too, out here. Nobody's looking for him - or so he thought. He can't hurt anyone. Nobody would know if he died out here. Maybe just the Wakandans if they put something in his left arm, letting them know it's attached to a decomposing corpse and they can come pick it up at their convenience.
"You talk a lot for somebody who's spent time in solitude." Don't say Bucky never sugarcoats anything.
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And now left alone to his own very poor devices, it seems. A shame.
"Do I?" He arches a brow. "Maybe I've simply missed conversation, James. It's been a very long time."
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"Maybe you should get a dog." He's not necessarily mocking Zemo. Okay, well, maybe a little bit. He's a spiteful and bitter grumpy old man, and he's clearly given up on raising his walking stick and shaking it in the air telling Zemo to git off his lawn. What can he say? But he's only half-kidding about a dog. She's helped him a lot through more bad days than he cares to admit he ever has had even though she doesn't talk back.
"Is this what you want? Living in the country in your old age." Of course, Zemo could afford many more comforts and indulgent little luxuries. Assuming he even lives that long. It's not always a blessing. Bucky's continued existence is testament to that.
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And children always reach a point where they're insistent on pets and swear that they could absolutely care for them. He supposes that won't be a concern anymore...
There's a bit of a sigh, and then a short chuckle. "I never considered old age, if I am honest. It had seemed far away, and now--"
Well, he hadn't planned on living so long. But here he is, only growing older. "I suppose it has its merits when you want to be left alone. I'm more accustomed to life in bustling cities though. I'm not certain I would know what to do with the quiet."
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"The closest city is a few hours' drive away. Nobody would know you there either." If he feels like leaving to chase greener pastures, so to speak. Don't let Bucky's irritable disposition stop him.
Bucky hadn't considered old age either. He's living what he thought it's supposed to look like. Mixed in with a bit of what had worked for him out in Wakanda. It's not really the same, out here on his own. He doesn't know how many more decades of this he will have. At some point maybe he'll be okay enough to care about the house not falling apart on him. He's not quite there yet.
"Thanks for breakfast," he mutters quietly once he finishes his oats. Yeah it's his own oats, but it's not like he would have bothered cooking them this morning. There are hardly any dishes drying on the rack.
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Besides, he's an international terrorist. Surely there is always a chance someone could spot him, or the Wakandans could track him down if he made himself too well-known. No, best to stay put for now.
There's a pleased smile at the small show of gratitude. "Of course, James. It's the least I can do for your... generosity. Allowing me to stay."
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"I need to do some work in the barn. You can go get a bed and whatever else you need or move your car in." No, Bucky isn't intentionally trying to help Zemo. He doesn't want any more unwanted guests showing up or to be implicated in whatever shit Zemo got himself into, that's all.
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"But a proper bed, yes, some clothes if I can find anything in the nearest town... that seems a good idea."
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“Sure, you’ll find me on the highway riding my cow out of town.” The better alternative would be for Zemo to leave and then Bucky can decide if he’s rattled enough by his unwanted guest showing up to pack up and leave.
Drying his hands off after drying the dishes, Bucky heads out for the barn. His dog seems to want to follow, but. It also seems rude to leave the only guest in years just sitting there. She looks out the door, then turns back to look at Zemo, then looks back at the door, uncertain if she should sit and stay or follow the grumpy old man out.
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Into their business.
"It seems you've made quite a few animal friends, at least..." Now if he can just graduate to other humans, he may be closer to a man than a weapon.
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The barn is not in the tidiest condition, but Bucky's clearly made an effort. He feeds his animals better than he feeds himself and his unexpected guests. He's been cleaning out the stalls, or the place would smell a lot worse than it currently does. He'd rather be left alone to sweep the floor and brush his cow, but, fine, he'll shoot glares and make conversation. It'll take him some time to get used to talking so much.
"They were due to be. Retired." He wouldn't claim to be so heroic as to have 'rescued' them. But as an animal that his old owners no longer have any use for, that's not as efficient or productive or easy to keep sedated and under control anymore, he can sympathise. "I had space for them. That's all." And if Zemo has any other ideas about his milkless cow, his puppyless dog and the occasional egg a week chicken, Bucky will most definitely not be having space for Zemo.
Even if the old girl is quite delighted with the company and seems to be giving Zemo heart-eyes whenever Bucky's not looking.
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