09.01 - telepathtic broadcast

[lefthandfree]

[Well, Bucky’s reached his limit. As if the calm in T’Challa’s palace wasn’t already nerve-wracking enough, he’s now on a veritable life-long vacation by comparison, and there’s no training facility in the damn base. Shadow boxing only gets you so far. He doesn’t like drawing publicity, but he’s running out of options, and he knows better than to ask the obvious suspects, especially since variety is good and bolsters adaptation on the fly.]

«Don’t suppose there are any fighters around?»

«Name's Barnes. James Barnes. I’m looking for consistent sparring partners. One hour sessions minimum. No weapons, just straight hand-to-hand and close quarters. Willing to taper strikes and throws as needed, but it’s straight sparring and not a lesson.»

«If you're interested, let me know.»

Comments

tone-deafness in text is real; sorry :(

[lefthandfree]

«Oh. Gotcha.» [Language. Fuck language.] «That's fair. I doubt I’ll always be around either, even if we set up a schedule.»

«Sundays at 2100. 9 pm. That fair? That way you get some time to wind down for the evening after.» [And take a shower. And smell like seaweed.]

don't worry! it could definitely have been taken that way aurally too c:

[inject]

[ There are worse smells than seaweed, and she would lie if she said she didn't miss the feeling of a shower after a hard day's fighting. Valentine was already picturing it. ]

I'll put it in my planner. Might as well turn that free room into a proper dojo.

[lefthandfree]

«Dojo?» [Unfortunately, Bucky is old and from a time when people don’t know the term commonly.]

«I think the base would definitely benefit from a training facility, even if it’s just some mats and maybe a boxing ring for now.»

[Not that he has any idea how to acquire things to make that happen. Yeah, definitely ain’t in Kansas anymore, Toto.]

[inject]

That's what a dojo is.

[ Well, no, not really, but essentially. It'd do for now, since she didn't really care to explain it. ]

You could talk to one of the base architects. Or the only one. Annabeth, was it?

[lefthandfree]

«I see.» [The more you know. He can't tell if it's some kind of alien word or an English word or whatever, but it feels weird when he mouths it to himself.]

«Yeah, I think so. My friend talked to her I think, something about helping with the renovations. Dunno if it’s worth bringing up though. I could just set something up on my own, too.»

[Or at least try to. He doesn’t like needing to report his actions anymore these days, so needing to work with someone to get anything seems excessively tedious when he has his own hands—sorry, hand—he can use to do the task himself. Besides, what if he needs to ask permission? That’s just plain weird to him, especially knowing Annabeth is significantly younger.]