Good. If you hear anything let me know. I'm heading to Olympia.
[Part of her had wanted to ask him not to go back, but she trusted him. That he'd at least tell her if he was going to do something that stupid. She almost leave it there, but-]
Meet me?
[Because this all cut a little too close. Just on the idea of what was happening, but knowing it had maybe almost happened to him? She was trying to ignore the chill.]
[Not that she's nervous about going back on her own. But she wants to see him, likes the idea of making sure that he's alright, seeing it with her own eyes. She can't read him over text like she can in person. And there's something about contact, something tangible.]
[ It takes him longer than he wants to arrive, not because of the voice that lassos him, but because of the more mundane dangers of the forest. The way back is thick with branches, green, shadow and heat. He has a cut on his face now, not deep, like he nicked himself shaving. But he's here. Almost here. Close. ]
[She's sitting in the branch of a tree, preferring the vantage point, the angle that it gives her to just standing around waiting. And well, she's not particularly thrilled with this place right about now. But as much as she wants to leave, she likes the idea of leaving with him better.
So when he finally calls out to her, she jumps down to the ground, landing light on her feet.]
[ He isn't exactly surprised to see her pop out from someplace unseen, but he still steps back, reflexively. ]
I'm— [ He doesn't know what to say. Something inside him is bursting. ] I'm here, too.
[ Bucky reaches out a hand— his right hand, the one that can feel— to touch her on the shoulder. It occurs to him that if the forest really wanted to make him feel like he belonged, it would show him Natasha. ]
[He steps back, and she doesn't reach for him, just stays where she'd landed, a twitch of her mouth as she takes in the sight of him. He's not okay, but he's here, and that's something. Means they can get out of here, talk in he wants to, not if he doesn't, and find their way back to someplace that makes some kind of sense.
Olympia might not be entirely comfortable just yet, even if it was getting there, but this forest was uncomfortable. It was a sort of discomfort she'd experienced before, but that didn't make it better.
She sighs softly, looking up at him as he places his hand on her shoulder and she reaches up, briefly covering his hand with her own.]
[Does he want to get out of here? The tendrils of the forest that are still clinging to him don't let go, either. He hesitates. His hand doesn't move. ]
Yes. [ There's a sudden force in the syllable. His fingers tighten, then release. ]
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I'm heading to Olympia.
[Part of her had wanted to ask him not to go back, but she trusted him. That he'd at least tell her if he was going to do something that stupid. She almost leave it there, but-]
Meet me?
[Because this all cut a little too close. Just on the idea of what was happening, but knowing it had maybe almost happened to him? She was trying to ignore the chill.]
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I can wait if you wont be long. Or I'll meet you back home.
[As if she's not uncomfortable with the whole situation.]
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[ He's a little bit further out than she is, but he doesn't want her alone in the forest, either. ]
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[Not that she's nervous about going back on her own. But she wants to see him, likes the idea of making sure that he's alright, seeing it with her own eyes. She can't read him over text like she can in person. And there's something about contact, something tangible.]
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Natasha? Nat?
[ He doesn't see her. ]
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So when he finally calls out to her, she jumps down to the ground, landing light on her feet.]
I'm here.
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I'm— [ He doesn't know what to say. Something inside him is bursting. ] I'm here, too.
[ Bucky reaches out a hand— his right hand, the one that can feel— to touch her on the shoulder. It occurs to him that if the forest really wanted to make him feel like he belonged, it would show him Natasha. ]
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Olympia might not be entirely comfortable just yet, even if it was getting there, but this forest was uncomfortable. It was a sort of discomfort she'd experienced before, but that didn't make it better.
She sighs softly, looking up at him as he places his hand on her shoulder and she reaches up, briefly covering his hand with her own.]
You want to get out of here?
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Yes. [ There's a sudden force in the syllable. His fingers tighten, then release. ]
I really do, Nat.