I think you did whatever suited you...when you bothered to interact with them.
[ Zemo comes from wealth, and that brings a certain silver-spoon upbringing and mentality. But he also hails from a largely war-torn region of Europe, where small villages and tight-knit communities are the norm.
Zemo likely spent much of his time indoors with tutors, but learned to interact more in secondary school or university (if he went). ]
I thank Your Grace for socializing with a commoner like myself.
Please, James... [That earns an amused huff, lips curling up into a slight smile.]
My country is gone... I am hardly still a baron.
[And there's no Sokovian royalty left anyway, is there? With the country long gone and forgotten.
But perhaps he had been-- mostly kept away from other children in his younger years. Education had been an important goal of his father's, prepping up his son to one day take his place.]
There were other children I befriended, but-- I was kept rather busy growing up. I would say Oeznik had to deal the most with my childhood antics.
Antics? [ now it's Bucky's turn to chuckle. ] Okay, so tell me about them. Did you put gum in the hair of girls? What about greasing the kitchen floor so it's slippery?
How childish, James. [and truly, if he had made any such mess that made its way back to his father? He's certain the punishment would have been worse than any temporary amusement.]
[ Bucky follows Zemo into the shop, frowning at how high-end it is. Everything is designer, bespoke; certainly nothing he'd pick for himself if left alone. He idly brushes a fingertip over some sleeves as they walk among the racks of jackets. ]
Don't worry about the price, James. It is my treat after all.
[And Zemo seems quite in his element at the moment. It's been a very long time since he's been able to add to his wardrobe from a tiny little cell. It's almost... a strange, having this sort of freedom again. If he allowed himself to dwell, it may even be overwhelming.]
Everyone should experience a properly fitted suit at least once, and I imagine you have never had the opportunity.
Nothing like this. I had a nice suit in the 30s and early 40s but it wasn't tailored the way these are.
[ Most guys like him had at least one good suit and maybe a spare if they were lucky. Post-Depression economics didn't really allow for a lot of luxuries, but he got by.
Bucky still feels weird having someone spend so lavishly on him. In a lot of ways, he's still the Brooklyn kid scraping by or living a meager existence. His eyes drift to basic blacks and dark grey, but the shop attendant approaches them mid-thought to offer a tastefully pleasant greeting and the opportunity to be measured.
Bucky looks to Zemo for cues, and the employee graciously defers to him. It's actually surprising not to feel judged for being new at this, or for being lower class than the type of person who would frequent such a place. (At least in Bucky's estimation.) ]
[Spending on Bucky isn't really an issue he considers -- Zemo hasn't ever been greedy about spoiling those he... cares about. And against all logic, he cares about Bucky. It's certain to be a disaster when this very sweet dream is all over, but it's far from his mind at the moment.
Instead his attention is focused on the attendant and getting Bucky fitted for a suit -- nothing outlandish. Sensible, black... something he'll be able to keep for a very long time. There's no judgement from Zemo, certainly, and the employee seems gracious enough to keep it to themselves if there is any at all.
Although Zemo does hope that by the time Bucky is being measured, he's at least marginally more comfortable... or at least won't be too uncomfortable enduring it.]
[ This is absolutely going to end in emotional disaster for them both, but you only live once (as the kids say). It is better to have l—well. Better to have experienced something eh? Even if only for a time.
Bucky stands quietly, extending his arms or straightening his posture when prompted. The measuring is done in short order, and their attendant is off to gather various suits to present for their picking. All are black or charcoal, slim in the hips but accommodating for Bucky's shoulders.
"Should I expand the colors, or would you prefer a splash of something in say, a tie?"
Bucky presses his lips together, considering. The expression looks a bit dismayed, but his resting face can appear somewhat...dour to the uninitiated.
"A pocket square, perhaps?" The attendant quickly supplies, attempting to put Bucky back into a more comfortable zone. ]
Yeah. I'd like that. [ An awkward snort ] Not really a "tie guy."
[ "Of course." Then he's off to procure a menagerie of silken fabrics, each one more flamboyant than the last, save a collection which are muted patterns or single solids in mostly warm shades (to contrast with the black).
Bucky eyes them, starting to get that overwhelming feeling when presented with too many options. His eyes flick to Zemo, silently pleading for help. ]
[For his part, Zemo lets Bucky handle his business, have his choices. He resists the urge to suggest their attendant bring more suit colors out after all -- even if Bucky might end up detesting them.
But he also makes that decision for himself. Zemo can appreciate the ease Bucky is making choices for himself now, although he is quick to step in when Bucky seems to need it.]
Red is your color, or perhaps navy.
[He suggests helpfully. Nothing too flamboyant, but something at least.]
[ Just the sound of Zemo's voice gets the ground back under Bucky's feet, and he steadies. He does select some darker reds and a couple of navy kerchiefs, even with patterns! Once he's gotten started selecting things, it's easier to keep going.
[There's a smirk tugging at Zemo's lips as he steps closer to Bucky, hardly caring if anyone finds it a bit suspiciously close or not as he idly looks over the selection.
He tries not to be possessive... Bucky isn't any quite his after all, but-- there's a thrill that goes through him at the thought of the man in his color. Just a private little statement where they could never declare anything without others thinking them absolutely mad.
A private reminder to Bucky who he is returning to bed with for the foreseeable future.]
It would suit you as well, of course... [He tilts his head up, meeting Bucky's eyes.]
[ Bucky's chin mirrors the motion of Zemo's, a slight movement nearly imperceptible. The comment about dinner- that did it, that sold the whole shebang.
Bucky indicates one kerchief in that specific reddish-grape hue that most closely matches Zemo's asymmetrical tunic. ]
I think I'll definitely go with that one.
[ it takes immense will not to slide one arm around Zemo's waist and pull him in. Branding himself with a color sends a thrill through him; their own little secret. ]
[His fingers slide up to Bucky's shoulder, making a show of smoothing out material but it's mostly an excuse to touch in a way that won't garner them too many looks. He smiles to himself.]
Now give me a moment to pick up something a little more... appropriate as well. Then I think we could both use a few more... casual items as well.
[He's not going to be in prison garb the majority of the time, so he needs some items at Bucky's home at least.]
[ When the attendant isn't looking, Bucky winks and steps away. That moment between them had been palpable, a brimming sort of frission laden with promise of After Dinner.
Maybe Zemo will take that pretty pocket square and tie it in a pretty bow around Bucky's neck--
He stops the thought, not wanting to get riled up too early in the trip. (Or to make Oeznik retract the probationary good will.) ]
[He has little doubt his old friend will play nice with Bucky -- perhaps share an old story or two. Zemo can only imagine what sort.
Not that he dwells on it with so many more pleasant thoughts of their upcoming date (and after) springing to mind.
After he's made his own selections for the evening, he's off to find them anyway. When he does, they're both greeted with a short nod of his head and a pleasant enough look.]
I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important.
[ Oeznik has been...laconic. His replies to Bucky's questions have been incredibly brief, almost overly succinct (even terse) in the absence of the Baron.
So when Zemo reappears, Bucky is scrolling through his phone playing Candy Crush when he hears the footsteps. ]
Oh yeah I got the whole life story, dirty details and all.
[ Oeznik huffs, "Certainly not, sir," in Sokovian and Bucky snickers. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Zemo comes from wealth, and that brings a certain silver-spoon upbringing and mentality. But he also hails from a largely war-torn region of Europe, where small villages and tight-knit communities are the norm.
Zemo likely spent much of his time indoors with tutors, but learned to interact more in secondary school or university (if he went). ]
I thank Your Grace for socializing with a commoner like myself.
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My country is gone... I am hardly still a baron.
[And there's no Sokovian royalty left anyway, is there? With the country long gone and forgotten.
But perhaps he had been-- mostly kept away from other children in his younger years. Education had been an important goal of his father's, prepping up his son to one day take his place.]
There were other children I befriended, but-- I was kept rather busy growing up. I would say Oeznik had to deal the most with my childhood antics.
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[ All devilment, but largely benign. ]
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Are these things you may have done?
lyingggggg
lying liar
For right now at least.]
You'll have to tell me more about your childhood at some point, James.
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I've already told you the high points. Everything else is history.
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[He doesn't quite believe that, but he's willing to put that aside for now. They do have clothes to find -- Bucky especially.]
You need a suit.
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These cost more than my bike...each.
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[And Zemo seems quite in his element at the moment. It's been a very long time since he's been able to add to his wardrobe from a tiny little cell. It's almost... a strange, having this sort of freedom again. If he allowed himself to dwell, it may even be overwhelming.]
Everyone should experience a properly fitted suit at least once, and I imagine you have never had the opportunity.
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[ Most guys like him had at least one good suit and maybe a spare if they were lucky. Post-Depression economics didn't really allow for a lot of luxuries, but he got by.
Bucky still feels weird having someone spend so lavishly on him. In a lot of ways, he's still the Brooklyn kid scraping by or living a meager existence. His eyes drift to basic blacks and dark grey, but the shop attendant approaches them mid-thought to offer a tastefully pleasant greeting and the opportunity to be measured.
Bucky looks to Zemo for cues, and the employee graciously defers to him. It's actually surprising not to feel judged for being new at this, or for being lower class than the type of person who would frequent such a place. (At least in Bucky's estimation.) ]
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Instead his attention is focused on the attendant and getting Bucky fitted for a suit -- nothing outlandish. Sensible, black... something he'll be able to keep for a very long time. There's no judgement from Zemo, certainly, and the employee seems gracious enough to keep it to themselves if there is any at all.
Although Zemo does hope that by the time Bucky is being measured, he's at least marginally more comfortable... or at least won't be too uncomfortable enduring it.]
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Bucky stands quietly, extending his arms or straightening his posture when prompted. The measuring is done in short order, and their attendant is off to gather various suits to present for their picking. All are black or charcoal, slim in the hips but accommodating for Bucky's shoulders.
"Should I expand the colors, or would you prefer a splash of something in say, a tie?"
Bucky presses his lips together, considering. The expression looks a bit dismayed, but his resting face can appear somewhat...dour to the uninitiated.
"A pocket square, perhaps?" The attendant quickly supplies, attempting to put Bucky back into a more comfortable zone. ]
Yeah. I'd like that. [ An awkward snort ] Not really a "tie guy."
[ "Of course." Then he's off to procure a menagerie of silken fabrics, each one more flamboyant than the last, save a collection which are muted patterns or single solids in mostly warm shades (to contrast with the black).
Bucky eyes them, starting to get that overwhelming feeling when presented with too many options. His eyes flick to Zemo, silently pleading for help. ]
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But he also makes that decision for himself. Zemo can appreciate the ease Bucky is making choices for himself now, although he is quick to step in when Bucky seems to need it.]
Red is your color, or perhaps navy.
[He suggests helpfully. Nothing too flamboyant, but something at least.]
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His finger hovers over one specific kerchief. ]
I was thinking maybe purple.
[ add a wry smirk. ]
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[There's a smirk tugging at Zemo's lips as he steps closer to Bucky, hardly caring if anyone finds it a bit suspiciously close or not as he idly looks over the selection.
He tries not to be possessive... Bucky isn't any quite his after all, but-- there's a thrill that goes through him at the thought of the man in his color. Just a private little statement where they could never declare anything without others thinking them absolutely mad.
A private reminder to Bucky who he is returning to bed with for the foreseeable future.]
It would suit you as well, of course... [He tilts his head up, meeting Bucky's eyes.]
Especially for our dinner tonight.
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Bucky indicates one kerchief in that specific reddish-grape hue that most closely matches Zemo's asymmetrical tunic. ]
I think I'll definitely go with that one.
[ it takes immense will not to slide one arm around Zemo's waist and pull him in. Branding himself with a color sends a thrill through him; their own little secret. ]
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Now give me a moment to pick up something a little more... appropriate as well. Then I think we could both use a few more... casual items as well.
[He's not going to be in prison garb the majority of the time, so he needs some items at Bucky's home at least.]
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[ When the attendant isn't looking, Bucky winks and steps away. That moment between them had been palpable, a brimming sort of frission laden with promise of After Dinner.
Maybe Zemo will take that pretty pocket square and tie it in a pretty bow around Bucky's neck--
He stops the thought, not wanting to get riled up too early in the trip. (Or to make Oeznik retract the probationary good will.) ]
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[He has little doubt his old friend will play nice with Bucky -- perhaps share an old story or two. Zemo can only imagine what sort.
Not that he dwells on it with so many more pleasant thoughts of their upcoming date (and after) springing to mind.
After he's made his own selections for the evening, he's off to find them anyway. When he does, they're both greeted with a short nod of his head and a pleasant enough look.]
I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important.
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So when Zemo reappears, Bucky is scrolling through his phone playing Candy Crush when he hears the footsteps. ]
Oh yeah I got the whole life story, dirty details and all.
[ Oeznik huffs, "Certainly not, sir," in Sokovian and Bucky snickers. ]
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Are there any requests on where you would like to go next, James?
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[ It's out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and his cheeks flush a slight shade of pink. ]
What do we do until dinner?
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I had no plans beyond clothes. [And those have been aquired, so--]
A movie, perhaps? [Isn't that a very American... date? Dinner and a movie? It's certainly something to spend some time doing.]
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[ Bucky perks up, and looks to Oeznik for backup.
"Perhaps sight-seeing could provide a diversion until the tailoring has been finished."
Bucky affects a rather exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows, tempting Zemo with the idea. ]
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Handwave fluffy Liberty Island trip y/n?🗽
y!!
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