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[heavensreader]

[It was much too much to ask, Kesara reflects, she wildly overstepped to hope for so much so quickly. But she knows and can fall back on the bazaar logic. First ask a price that your man can't meet; else how would you seem kind when you haggle? He's not gone. He wants what she knows. He'll haggle, all right.

Though she needs to hurry. Before long he might find out that the information can be had all but for free.

With a less suspicious man, she might take more daring stab. But with him, she decides, she'll bargain the more traditional way, which means it's his turn to name the low price. Her face continues to move in small nervous tics.] What can you give me - so I know I'm safe telling you things?

[advanced]

Nothing.

[His own face is set in a bitterly wry smile, an expression without any actual humour behind it, as his fingers move on the tablet. He can't give her what she needs to trust him, because she shouldn't trust him. He doesn't trust himself.

It's not a comforting answer, but it's an honest one.]

You can never be sure anyone is safe.

[heavensreader]

[Well. That is certainly not an answer she's been banking on. Nothing? One can bargain from nothing, but how does she answer this claim, which she knows perfectly well might be true?

She knows it might be true because she has heard it before, it occurs to her, and from very particular kind of people. So there is an opening. She looks wide-eyed at the camera.]

Are you not safe to talk to, sir?

[advanced]

[If he answers honestly then people may start hunting him-- ha. Start. As if he isn't already being hunted.]

Is anyone safe to talk to?

[heavensreader]

[If she were suspicious before, now she is positively burning with curiosity. She needs to know who this man is. She needs to know what danger he's hiding from - or what prey he's stalking.]

Some - some are, [she mumbles with genuine uncertainty.] There are people I trust, but - I won't name them. No. Those names are not for trade.

[advanced]

[He doesn't want to know the names of the people she trusts, because he's willing to bet on one name featuring prominently. If everyone here doesn't trust Steve Rogers then something is more wrong than can be fixed.]

I'm not asking for them. You have the knives, that's what I want.

[heavensreader]

[The odd thing is, Kesara certainly likes Captain Rogers, but her trust is a more tangled thing. People who are too kind upset it just as much as people who are too suspicious. She bites her lower lip and hugs her arms to her chest, a defensive gesture.]

I can't give them away for nothing. I can't - if you do something terrible with them, it'll be my fault, won't it? Give me something... some talisman, some way to guard against you, at least!

[advanced]

[He does feel for her, but not enough to compromise himself. There's no guarantee he can give her that she'll be safe from him, no matter his wishes.]

No. Whatever I do with a weapon in my hand is not on you.

[Not always on him either, but that's not for her to know.]

Food and clothing, that's what I have. That's all I have.

[heavensreader]

It is if the weapon is mine. If I might've stopped it. Isn't that true?

[She talks to keep him talking, now. He won't bargain. She won't get it directly. She has to think in slippery ways - other paths, other things.]

Do you really need weapons more than you need clothing? Now isn't as cold as it gets.

[advanced]

[He could argue that the weapon ceases to be hers as soon as it falls into Bucky's possession, absolving her of any responsibility for whatever the knife is used for after that. But it's getting dangerously close to a proper conversation and he's too wary of revealing pieces of himself to get drawn into that now. Even with a kid.

There's a long pause as he debates just hanging up. It would be the safer thing to do. But he does want those knives.

So when the reply comes he ignores her attempt to draw him in, focusing just on the question of clothing versus weaponry.]

I've been colder.

[heavensreader]

[As hints to pounce on go, it's the very tiniest. But she pounces. He's been colder. If he means that, beyond just deflecting her again. She does not know many places in the world that are colder. And she does not know many kinds of men who go to these places.

Maybe a little more of a line, a bigger bait? He's obstinate, and it's downright impossible to do this when he insists on using writing. If only they were truly speaking, why, she's sure...!]

There won't be help if you're frostbitten. There used to be this... but it's stopped now. One man had to cut his own toes off.

[The chronology is a little off, there, but he won't know it.]

[advanced]

[He's not surprised to hear stories of frostbite. He's lived decades in Siberia among the coldest of weather, he's seen men and women lost body parts just for being unlucky enough to get caught ten minutes too long out in the snow.

He could tell her that he is used to these conditions. He could tell her that he has pushed through worse. He won't. He's revealed enough already, so he brusquely pulls the conversation back to where it should be.]

Are you going to trade me the knives?

[heavensreader]

[Blocked yet again. Kesara could just about explode. For all her efforts, the smallest hint of frustration slips through to show on her face. And once she realizes that, she knows she's lost the game.

She hates losing. There is nothing in the world that she hates more. So she decides to be brusque right back.]

You're not safe. I can't trust you. I should keep the knives to defend myself from people like you.

[At least, she thinks, he can't tell her that she's wrong.]

[advanced]

[That's a no.

And she's not wrong, he is a dangerous man. But he doesn't need a knife to be dangerous, he could kill any target given to him with his bare hands and the materials strewn around.

It's pointless to keep going down this route, though, as he's also lost what he wants. Possibly more irritating for her, and very rudely, he just hangs up without answering.]