[ The memories create a double-vision, splitting the crowds in front of them with the shop, a cold barrel ghosting against his skull. Muscle memory kicks in, his mind working to separate the threads of reality and memory, self and other, while the rest of him processes the information. The robbery he knows. A phantom headache pounds in his head, he pushes it away to disentangle the rest of the scene - a thought, a promise. His blood runs cold.
Sam.
Even if he wanted to stop they can't, his feet keep walking, arm still around Bucky's. He's leading now, finding a makeshift alley between haphazardly constructed stalls to bypass the street traffic. Goes quiet, expression turned inward. His grip on their connection remains, soft and pulsing with activity, but indecipherable beyond a few flickers of concentration. ]
Can we head back to your place? [ He's not so hungry anymore. ]
no subject
Sam.
Even if he wanted to stop they can't, his feet keep walking, arm still around Bucky's. He's leading now, finding a makeshift alley between haphazardly constructed stalls to bypass the street traffic. Goes quiet, expression turned inward. His grip on their connection remains, soft and pulsing with activity, but indecipherable beyond a few flickers of concentration. ]
Can we head back to your place? [ He's not so hungry anymore. ]