[log] The Gang Protects the President [closed]

[mightyratslayer]

Characters: John Watson, Bucky Barnes, Quark, Charlie Kelly
Location: Building 58
Date: Day 165 
Summary: Watson, Bucky, and Quark meet up with Charlie so that Charlie can abscond with President Quark. They're all stuck together for the night, too. This is maybe going to be a tense evening!!
Warnings: probably some injury mentions, character death mentions, and language. Will edit as needed! 

Building 58: A simple single-story building, the snow weighs uneasily on it, and it creaks and groans under the strain at the best of times. It's very dark, and only the kitchen and living room are intact. The kitchen has a back door. Two snowmen have been built outside. A message has been written on the wall in blue ink: "Don't wreck the snowmen! That's super mean!" "ALPHONSE ELRIC, MAMI TOMOE, FREYA CRESCENT, GREED, EDWARD ELRIC, STEPHANIE BROWN, DAY FORTY ONE, TRAVELLING EAST." has been carved into one of the walls. The following has been written on the wall in blue pen: "This is Building 95 97 on the composite map. Contact @CaptSteveRogers for details." Underneath this is a fairly accurate map showing the house in relation to the school and buildings 29, 35, 35, 37, 40, 41, 47, 48, 50, 53. House 34 is labeled "Medical assistance; hot, clean water. Contact Dr. Epps @claytonator". The school is labeled "School. Food available in cafeteria; DO NOT STAY HERE OVERNIGHT." The shed is labeled "Shed".

Comments

[advanced]

[You know who is super happy that there are more people, and that one of them is a child and the other two are both people he's hurt badly? Bucky, that's who.

He's nearly dead on his feet when they get into the building, John being carried bridal style in a very dignified sling for anyone who happens to be observing. Not for long, though, because Bucky is setting him down as soon as they're inside, disentangling himself from the straps and just-- slinking off into a dark corner.

He sinks against the wall aiming to spend the night alone (please, dear God, don't bother him). Unfortunately, his bag is strewn haphazardly nearby, metal arm across the floor where anyone could accidentally trip on it.]

[averytinyparticle]

[You would think, as the sneaky child that had been learning thievery from multiple parties, Quark would do a better job at paying attention to his surroundings. Apparently not. In his own tiredness, he finds that his foot catches on something hard and metal and then suddenly he'd facefirst on the ground, groaning.

It doesn't take much investigation to realize what he tripped over, and all at once he feels much more awake as he scrabbles backward.]

Gee, sorry, Mister. I really didn't mean to!

[Which is more than obvious by the reddening patch of skin around his nose.]

[advanced]

[His head snaps up when there's a clatter of metal and a thud, instantly on edge until he realises what's happened.

Well, great. As if he hasn't injured enough people, now he's doing it by accident too? He reaches out and grabs the bag, shifting it closer in to himself.]

Are you hurt?

[averytinyparticle]

Nah...I'm pretty tough.

[Also, his helmet cut a bit of the impact. Protective headgear is always important.]

It was my fault, I wasn't paying attention. I know you don't really want me to bug you, I hope you're not too mad.

[advanced]

[He shakes his head, expression softening just the tiniest amount. He doesn't want to be bothered and it's good that the kid knows this, it might keep him safer.]

I'm not angry.

[His eyes are intense on Quark's face.]

Your nose looks bruised, you should put ice on it.

[averytinyparticle]

Ice...

[He'd have to go outside to get ice. So he holds up his hands instead.]

My hands are really cold. Do you think that counts?

[mightyratslayer]

[You know who totally sees Bucky slink off into a corner in a very "don't bother me" sort of way and is gonna completely ignore all those signals? Charlie!!

If he's being honest, he doesn't really want to talk to Bucky, either. Even missing an arm, this guy could absolutely wreck his shit six ways to Sunday, and Charlie's worried about accidentally setting him off again. As much as he'll try not to, it's not like he's an expert on super soldier paranoia. Also, it's not like he's never fucked anything up before, no matter how much he means well.

Regardless, he wanders over toward Bucky a little later in the evening. It would be weird and uncool of him if he didn't at least say hi.]

Um. Hey, dude. [He shifts his weight and eyes the metal arm on the floor. Is that thing supposed to be detachable?]

How's it going?

[advanced]

[No, no it is not meant to be detachable.

Bucky smells pretty ripe up close, and looks a mess, but he doesn't scowl at Charlie as much as he did the last time they met. His expression is still wary and closed off, but not nearly as aggressive. The man gained a lot of respect from him the last time they spoke. Which, to be fair, was only the day before.]

You shouldn't sit with me.

[His broadcast about leaving him alone was LITERALLY YESTERDAY, man.]

[mightyratslayer]

Okay... So I won't. [Charlie shrugs. He's not going away that easily, dude. Even if you smell. He is not exactly the type of guy to mind smells. But, he's not stupid. He'll keep a safe distance from Bucky.]

Just wanted to check in. Y'know, prove that I meant what I said about you not being a bad guy. You doing okay?

[advanced]

[His expression softens just slightly, but it's more than he usually allows the harsh facade to fall.]

Yeah. I'm tired, that's all.

[He's been carrying John this whole time, it's taking its toll with the lack of food and the pain.]

[mightyratslayer]

Yeah, I bet. [Carrying Watson around seems like a lot of work, especially in a place like this. And with one arm? Bucky's a trooper.

Charlie's not really sure what to do now, though. He has like, a million questions he wants to ask. What happened with Watson? How come Bucky and Watson are buddies? What happened to the arm? Is it detachable??? Can Charlie play with it? Holy crap he wants to play with it.

But those all seem like more questions that would get him knocked around again, so he bites his tongue and tries to think of something else to talk about.]

Uhh... Hey! Do you like music, dude?

[jumpthegun]

[John hasn't done any walking today, but he's just about as drained as Bucky from the jolts and starts of the walk. He has his Tramadol, which he takes once they make it in and Bucky sets him down on the sofa in the house. He wants to tell the other man to lie down on it, instead, but that's a losing battle and Bucky slinks away.

The doctor just lies back and stares up at the ceiling for a long while. He hungry, he's tired, he hurts, and he just wants his leg to be better. Immediately. Life would be so much easier right now if it were better.

Unlike Bucky, John does make an effort to seem sociable, though. He forces himself to sit up, finding a comfortable position between his ribs and leg. If anyone approaches, he'll set down his tablet and look up at them with a weary smile.]

All right, then?

[averytinyparticle]

Yeah, uh...

[Quark's all right, of course, but he can't stop looking at Watson. He has to say something, right? He feels like he's been too quiet.]

I just wanted to make sure you're okay. And if there's anything I can do. To help, I mean.

[jumpthegun]

I'm fine, Quark.

[He's very obviously not fine and winces.]

I just mean I'll be fine. Really. We'll work things out.

[John pats the sofa beside him.]

D'you want to sit down? You've had a rough couple of days on your own. I'm sorry you got left at the hospital.

[averytinyparticle]

Sure.

[Quark sits down carefully, not wanting to cause Watson anymore pain than he's clearly in.]

It was fine, really. There were worse things happening before.

[The static was scary and awful, and the chanting and everything. Horrible. But he can't say it's the worst thing that's happened here.]

[jumpthegun]

The static getting bad again and those eyes were pretty bad, Quark. Did you... end up drawing them or scratching them out?

WHOOPS wrong icon

[advanced]

[Very, very late at night, probably in the early hours of the morning, Bucky finally moves from his spot in the corner to approach John. There are things he needs to ask him, but he couldn't do it when the others were awake.

He reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, either to get his attention if he's awake or wake him up if he's asleep, his voice barely above a murmur.]

We need to talk.

[He heard all that mess with Brian, about the admin, about the mind alteration.]

[jumpthegun]

Mm? [John rouses after a moment. It takes a few minutes for his sleep and Tramadol-fogged mind to process what Bucky's even said. His gaze is unfocused when he looks up at the other man. This conversation may not be as productive as Bucky might like.] Bucky, what's wrong?

[advanced]

[He stays crouched, tense, rather than sitting properly.]

How did you know the admin could alter the minds of people here?

[He saw that.]

[jumpthegun]

I asked...? [John isn't thinking this through very well as he reaches for the tablet that's still in his lap and brings up his messages. He pulls one up and hands the tablet to Bucky.]

You said you didn't want to kill anyone. But I didn't know what t'do with that. Took her a while to reply...

[He's fading out, closing his eyes. Bucky might need to give him another shake to get him up.]

[mightyratslayer]

[Oh, damn. Watson looks like shit. So does Bucky, though. What the hell happened in that aquarium? Jesus.

Charlie gives Watson some time to get settled before approaching him. When Watson speaks up, Charlie offers him a tepid smile and scratches the back of his head.]

Yeah, I'm okay. Are you, though? That leg's gotta be pretty brutal if you can't walk on it, man.

[jumpthegun]

[John's smile stretches wider, but it doesn't at all reach his eyes. He wishes people would stop mentioning the leg, the other injuries. He knows they care, and that's nice. It's also intensely frustrating.]

Bucky's making more of a fuss than he needs to; didn't feel like fighting over it. [Except he had. Charlie doesn't need to know that.] How are you getting on. I can have a look at your eye and neck, if you'd like. [He motions to the sofa for Charlie to sit down.]

[mightyratslayer]

Oh yeah? [That makes sense. Charlie knows the feeling, except he always feels like fighting over it. Maybe one day he can aspire toward Watson's chill. He does suspect that Watson's worse off than he's willing to let on, but he's not going to press him on it. Bro code, or something.] Well, cool. Glad you're all right.

[He's not crazy about Watson poking at his face again, but it's been awhile since anyone's looked at it, if only to make sure it's healing okay. It feels like it is, anyway. He sits down next to Watson and pulls off his eyepatch.]

It doesn't really hurt anymore. Do I still need to put stuff in it? I hate that part.

[jumpthegun]

It's gonna hurt more if it starts getting frostbite because it isn't being properly protected.

[John twists to the side and has to stop, blanching and drawing in a sharp breath. He just tries to push through the pain, taking shallow breaths as he reaches up toward where the bandages have been packed into Charlie's socket. He wants to check if they've been changed recently.]

Last time. When. When's the last time you changed them?

[mightyratslayer]

[Charlie makes it to their super official rendezvous point well before anyone else. He didn't have very far to travel, but wanted to beeline here anyway just in case. He didn't want to risk leaving Quark alone with Bucky any longer than necessary. Well, okay, "alone" is maybe overplaying it, but Watson is apparently hurt too, and Watson's done enough mediating.

Plus, Charlie likes that he gets to be helpful for a change. Like, directly helpful. Watson said he appreciated him. That's, like, big league.

When the others arrive, Charlie is rooting around in the kitchen, just trying to keep himself busy to stave off the anticipation. Specifically, he's looking around for stuff to soup up his banjo or whatever, which, in all its cardboard/rubberbandy glory, is not a terribly effective instrument.

A little later in the evening, the others will be subjected to the plucky strumming of the banjo or whatever, effective instrument or no.]