[log] The Hills Have Eyes [closed-ish]

[jumpthegun]

Characters: Watson, Charles, Davesprite, Bucky, Zell, Sora, Kunsel, Homura, and Quark
Location Building 235 (Aquarium) and Building 130 (Pharmacy)
Date: Day 162 - 164
Summary: Eyes appear all around, static and paranoia return, friends arrive with fire, hopefully no one is getting attacked. Later, Bucky, Quark, and John discover evidence of Fiona's murder.
Warnings: References to character death.

[The aquarium has the feel of a small-town tourist attraction, the sort built to give people just stopping to fuel up on petrol a reason to stay for an hour or two. There are various aquariums inside that, according to plaques beside them, once showcased various Alaskan fish; they're empty now. The whole atmosphere is kind of eerie, with the water casting rippling patterns on the walls, ceilings, and floors, but there's hot water in the sinks for anyone who wants it.

What's probably unwanted by everyone is the eyes. They're on the walls, drawn in the frost on the windows, they're on the ceilings, and the static crawls its way over walls and people. The sense of being watched, of being followed, is strong.]

Comments

[advanced]

[There's a moment of silence, and then all of a sudden Bucky starts to laugh. It has the hoarse sound of a man who hasn't done it much or often, but he can't help it.

It's just so absurd.

He's carrying a man he thinks of as a friend that he injured severely, and he's being lectured about brushing his teeth. BRUSHING HIS TEETH.]

--no, I haven't.

[He can't stop laughing, which isn't great because it hurts his shoulder and doesn't make his balance any better.]

More important things to do.

[jumpthegun]

[Bucky laughing sets John to grinning, he can't help it. He does try to tamp down on his own urge to chuckle, just knowing how much that's going to hurt. He puts on his most mock-severe expression.]

Bucky Barnes, you will wash your hair and brush your teeth tonight. I'm not running around with a bloke who doesn't put any sort of care into his hair or teeth. Cavities are real, and the greaser look went out of fashion a few decades ago.

[advanced]

[He stumbles a step from laughing too hard, and that cuts off the merriment pretty quickly as he jars everything just keeping upright. Pain is pretty good for stopping laughter, apparently. But he doesn't lose his smile altogether, even if it's pinched around the edges.]

You have some weird priorities.

[Seriously, man.]

I don't think I can wash my hair.

[jumpthegun]

Luckily, you're walking with someone who has the benefit of two hands and supplies that include soap.

[Dish soap, but it'll do in a pinch.]

And the way you avoid getting sick is good hygiene, mate.

[Or infections from stab wounds. Not mentioning this.]

You can trust me. I'm a doctor.

[advanced]

You're not washing my hair.

[They've done some out there things in the last couple of days, but that's one step too far, thanks.]

And I'm not about to get sick, you can stop trying to doctor me.

[jumpthegun]

So it's settled. You'll be washing it yourself. Good man.

[Thank you for agreeing to this, Bucky.]

[advanced]

[He just snorts quietly.]

You don't know when to give up, do you?

[jumpthegun]

You Yanks might lay claim to it, but no one does stubborn like the British, mate. Reckon we taught you everything you know, anyway.

[advanced]

[He just glances down at John, eyebrow raised.]

You clearly haven't met Steve Rogers if you think anyone can out stubborn him.

[It both hurts and feels oddly like a relief to mention Steve, to even associate himself with knowing and remembering the other man.]

[jumpthegun]

[John tuts.]

Well, he's not fair. And mind you, you haven't met Sherlock Holmes. I'm pretty sure he'll be out-stubborning God himself up in Heaven, demanding a good murder at the pearly gates to stop him being bored.

[Talking about Sherlock like this always hurts a little, but it's getting... easier? That's not quite the right word for it. But the stab in his chest isn't as sharp.]

[advanced]

[He snorts quietly.

The terrain really isn't easy to traverse with a man strapped to his front, but he's falling into a steady rhythm now, going as fast as he can push himself without jolting John too much.]

Plenty of people been murdered up there, I'm sure he has a lot to do.

[jumpthegun]

Only if they don't know how they were murdered. [There's a hint of exasperation in his tone, but he's still smiling.] Or they only give him the clues and make him figure it out. It's about the game for him, the puzzle. If he were here...

[John rolls his eyes.]

Well, he might get us out by driving everyone up the ice walls. But he'd be handy for sorting out some of the things we've found here, even if he was an absolute git about it.

[advanced]

He doesn't sound like the kind of man you'd be friends with.

[So says the mass murdering ex assassin friend.

He doesn't remember much about the books, he slogged through one in high school, but from what he knows of John he seems-- well, a nice guy. Not the sort to hang around with someone that much of an ass.]

[jumpthegun]

He's... [It's difficult to explain without sounding starry-eyed.] The thing you've got to understand about Sherlock is that he wasn't good with people. Not most of the time. He could fake it when he needed to, but that was just an act. He was amazing at reading people, though. He could look at you for half a minute and know things you might not tell anyone but your closest friends... or might not tell anyone at all.

He has a gift. It's truly a gift, a talent, and a skill. The first time I met him, he rattled off one of his deductions, and I was just... it took my breath away. He explained how he got it all later--just the tiniest clues.

[Were you wanting a rambling, heartfelt explanation, Bucky? You're getting one.]

Sherlock was fantastic, brilliant. I told him that, and he said most people just got angry with him when he did his thing; they couldn't appreciate it because it scared them. Some random bloke knowing that much about them at a glance? It was magic, it was weird, it had to be stopped. A man like Sherlock, he probably could have become a criminal mastermind if he wanted. He chose to help people, though. He became a detective, he helped the police free of charge. He wanted the puzzle, but he wanted to play for the right side.

I can't say he was the sort of man you'd have a pint with down at the pub after a long day, but he was a good man. Knew all the best restaurants around town, too. And the little tricks to tell a good restaurant from a bad one just by the way things were hung or what the waiters were wearing.

He was an absolute child sometimes, drove me mad... When he was on, though. God, when he was on, it was a privilege to be there with him, running with him. I wouldn't give up that time I had with him, not for all the tea in China.

[advanced]

[Whoa.

He wasn't expecting such a torrent of words, but it's actually quite nice. Aside from the fact that not speaking lets him focus on keeping his balance and not moaning out loud in pain, the explanation itself is actually-- kind of adorable.

It cements his idea that Sherlock is not a man he would ever want to be in the same room as. He's had more than enough of people finding out his past without an antisocial genius figuring it all out from his posture or something equally ridiculous.

By the time John is done speaking, Bucky has an almost soft expression.]

Sounds like he was lucky to have a friend like you.

[Like him and Steve.]

Seems like you're not great at picking friends who others are going to get along with, though.

[Just saying.]

[jumpthegun]

Lucky me. I don't pick my friends for other people.

[He's not even all that sure how he picks them. Not since he got back from the war. Alfie doesn't make a great deal of sense for him, either.]

Probably why I only have a few.

[advanced]

[He huffs out through his nose, a noise that's half amused and half regretful.]

It's probably a good thing I don't have any, I'm not the safest person to be around.

[Obviously.]

[jumpthegun]

Well, that's a bit rude to me, mate. Reckon Captain Rogers might have something to say about it, too. Clint, Mr. Stark, Ms. Romanov.

[advanced]

[He can't hide the naked surprise on his face, it's probably relatively comical compared to his usual blank control.

It's extra awkward to have this conversation considering he's carrying the other man around.]

I would have thought what I did was the end of that.

[Not going to touch on the others right now, one awkward thing at a time.]

[jumpthegun]

[It is amusing. And awkward. Very definitely awkward while he's got his arms around the other man, tucked up to his chest. The occasional jolting pain of movement helps with it a bit.]

It is if you want it to be. Think we've worked a bit of it out, though.

[He's leaving the door open for Bucky to walk out if he really wants to.]

I've got a bad habit of latching onto people and not letting go, though.

...metaphorically-speaking.

[advanced]

[He doesn't reply for a long few moments.

He should take that out. It would be better for John, but he can't make himself. He actually does trust this strange little army doctor, as weird as that is, and that's a rare thing for him. So he just lets the corners of his lips curl up into a smile.]

Guess I don't have a choice, since it seems you've moved on from the metaphorical to the literal in my case.

[A beat.]

Thank you.

[jumpthegun]

Okay. [John puts on a mock-indignant tone.] You're the one who insisted on this. Don't forget that, mate. Anyone asks, this was your idea.

[advanced]

That's not how I remember it.

[He actually laughs, just short and sharp.]

I'm pretty sure you asked to be carried.

[jumpthegun]

I'm pretty sure your ears need a good cleaning along with your hair if that's what you heard.

[advanced]

My hearing is fine.

[He hesitates on the next step, shifting John more fully into the sling and raising one leg to support his weight though it's an awkward balancing act, so that he can free his arm up to fish in his backpack.]

Stay very still.

[Because this is hard enough as it is.]