Bucky Barnes (au) / Captain America / Prostituteiced_soldierMay 30 2012, 03:54:57 UTC
[ooc: Anyone feel like rescuing a prostitute with a heart of gold who's being forced to dress in drag and sell his body? Or just sleeping with him? Yeah, the muse hates me so much right now. LOL
I'm more interested in doing a weird western type of scenario, but will do straight western if you'd prefer.]
His brows shot upward. Another verbal trap. The man wasn’t at the top of his game-no doubt because he was tired. “Why don’tcha go home and sleep, sir? Come back in the morning. You’re not exactly doin’ your best work in your current state, if it’s not out of line to say so.”
He hissed as his blade caught his skin, leaving behind a small line of red. “Shoot. Don’t suppose you’ve got a clean handkerchief on you?” Of course, he had plenty of them right in the top drawer of his bureau. But Steve didn’t know this. And if accidental, incidental touching happened to occur in the transfer, well. It’d be accidental and incidental.
"Your concern is most touching, Mr. Barnes, but I fear duty calls." The blond man muttered to himself before sighing and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm not trying to get you into trouble. I genuinely believe that if you shot Mr. Keaton, you did it with the best of intentions and to keep him from killing Miss. O'Day."
He looked up when he heard the hiss of pain from the man and watched quietly for a moment as blood trickled the line of the man's upper lip. "Of course, here," That was just the kind of person Steve was, he reached into the inner pocket of his vest and crossed the room to hand Bucky the plain, white linen handkerchief.
“Thank you kindly, sir.” As he reached out to take the handkerchief, his fingers brushed against the other man’s, lingered perhaps a little bit longer than necessary, allowing the man to feel the warmth of his skin. He flashed Steve a winning smile before turning back to the mirror and holding the handkerchief to his cut.
It was hard to tell if the other man was sincere. Bucky was an expert liar and an expert manipulator, but this man had him stumped. He seemed sincere enough. The way he’d turned away while Bucky had dressed. Of course, that might have been because he’d thought Bucky was a woman. Wouldn’t be the first time it happened. Still, he was reluctant to give anything up. He turned to look at the man a good, long moment, studying him as he held that handkerchief-Steve’s handkerchief-to his lip.
"It's Rogers, actually. Steve Rogers." He wasn't one for inappropriately lingering touches with strange men, especially those who dressed in woman's clothing and no doubt sold their bodies to please some perverse clientele who apparently liked seeing men in woman's clothing. But still, that touch lingered longer than was appropriate but thankfully, the man finally withdrew his hand and flashed him a blood tinged smile that was no doubt supposed to be charming. But whose charm was somewhat lost in the fact that he had a thin film of red tinging his teeth thanks to the cut bleeding into the man's mouth.
"If you tilt you head back and apply firm pressure to the cut, it should stop bleeding quicker." The sheriff supplied helpfully, having been in more than his fair share of scrapes growing up before a strange German doctor had approached him about a once in a lifetime opportunity to help out his country and improve his frail and failing health.
He nodded. If this guy was going to tell him his name, he might as well do the same. “Bucky.” At the man’s “helpful suggestion,” Bucky’s brow quirked almost imperceptibly. “Like this?” He did as instructed, but not quite correctly. This, like everything else Bucky had done since the sheriff got here, was done on purpose.
And Steve unfortunately, didn't see the play for what it was and his brow furrowed just a little in with concern. "Not quite, you need to really put pressure on it so the blood thickens quicker against the cut.
Forgive the guy, it wasn't like he spent a lot of time around whores, especially not sodomite whores who had a predilection for women's clothing.
Bucky frowned. “Show me how?” He looked up hopefully at the other man. He may have been a sodomite whore who dressed in women’s clothing, but he was undoubtedly in control of this situation. Steve was in over his head.
For the first time, Steve looked suspicious of Bucky's intentions. The distance between them had melted somewhere along the way and Steve was practically towering over the other man standing ill at ease, torn between helping and backing away. "I think you can figure it out yourself, Mr. Barnes. Just press it down onto your lip." Still, the sheriff's big hands moved as though to show Bucky how to do it; pantomiming how he should apply pressure. It was kind of endearing in a ridiculous kind of way.
A snort escaped Bucky as he watched Steve’s pantomime, but he managed to keep from outright laughing. “Alright, thank you, sir. I think I’ve got it now.” He corrected his hold, applying more pressure. Clearly, Steve wasn’t falling for his act anymore. He’d have to find a different approach.
No, Steve wasn't falling for his act and once Bucky seemed to get the hang of things, the blond man fell back a step and glanced around what he could only assume was Bucky's room.
"Alright," the sheriff worried his lower lip uncertainly. "Look, I wasn't making an empty threat about Keaton's kin. I've locked them up a couple of times since coming here and once they find out you're the one who killed him, they will probably try and come after you. For your own safety, you should consider getting out of town for a while."
He said earnestly, mouth thinning to a grim, serious line.
For the first time since Steve arrived, Bucky’s mask slipped off completely. He caught it fast, put it back on, but not before a look of genuine panic registered on his face. But it wasn’t for fear of Keaton’s nasty relatives. It sure as hell wasn’t for fear of being arrested. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
He wiped off the rest of the soap, having lost his motivation to finish shaving. The cut on his upper lip wasn’t bleeding as profusely now, and he dabbed at it a last time before setting down the handkerchief. Repressing a frown, Bucky turned to the blonde. “I think you might best should take me in, if you think I’ll be safe there.”
He didn't miss the brief flash of panic on the man's face and it surprised and disturbed Steve. What had he said to make the man so terrified? That he was possibly looking at retribution from Keaton's family? Or because Steve had suggested he leave town?
"Why not?" It slipped from him before he could censor himself and the sheriff grimaced guiltily. When Bucky wheeled on him suddenly and suggested that preposterous suggestion, Steve's brow furrowed in another frown. "This isn't a jesting matter, Mr. Barnes."
The implication that he might have been jesting enraged him. True, he hadn’t been taking the interrogation too seriously, but he was dead serious now. His hurt at that statement showed plain on his face, along with more of that panic. “Do I look like I’m jesting?”
He sighed and shook his head, turning away. What he was about to say could potentially get him into even more trouble than he was in already. “I’m in...trouble. Deep trouble.” The words were spoken quietly, all but whispered.
If it had been possible for Steve to sober even further, he would have in the face of the anger and fear on the man's face.
Briefly, he went back through what he knew about the town's denizens but unfortunately he'd never heard about a cross-dressing whore in the cathouse until tonight and he'd certainly never heard the name 'Bucky Barnes' before. Sifting through his memory of the wanted posters he had up in his office, he knew he hadn't seen the man before so how dire could his trouble truly be?
"Alright, tell me about it then and I'll do what I can do help you, Mr. Barnes." The blond man held up his hands in a placating, non-aggressive manner.
He gave a bitter snort. “Come, now, surely, you didn’t think I’m a cross-dressin’ whore by choice.” He looked up at the other man, trying to read his face. “I’m not gonna tell you exactly what kinda trouble I’m in. Not here. I can only tell you that I’m being held here against my will.” His eyes narrowed challengingly. “And I did kill Keaton.”
I'm more interested in doing a weird western type of scenario, but will do straight western if you'd prefer.]
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He hissed as his blade caught his skin, leaving behind a small line of red. “Shoot. Don’t suppose you’ve got a clean handkerchief on you?” Of course, he had plenty of them right in the top drawer of his bureau. But Steve didn’t know this. And if accidental, incidental touching happened to occur in the transfer, well. It’d be accidental and incidental.
Reply
He looked up when he heard the hiss of pain from the man and watched quietly for a moment as blood trickled the line of the man's upper lip. "Of course, here," That was just the kind of person Steve was, he reached into the inner pocket of his vest and crossed the room to hand Bucky the plain, white linen handkerchief.
Reply
It was hard to tell if the other man was sincere. Bucky was an expert liar and an expert manipulator, but this man had him stumped. He seemed sincere enough. The way he’d turned away while Bucky had dressed. Of course, that might have been because he’d thought Bucky was a woman. Wouldn’t be the first time it happened. Still, he was reluctant to give anything up. He turned to look at the man a good, long moment, studying him as he held that handkerchief-Steve’s handkerchief-to his lip.
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"If you tilt you head back and apply firm pressure to the cut, it should stop bleeding quicker." The sheriff supplied helpfully, having been in more than his fair share of scrapes growing up before a strange German doctor had approached him about a once in a lifetime opportunity to help out his country and improve his frail and failing health.
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Forgive the guy, it wasn't like he spent a lot of time around whores, especially not sodomite whores who had a predilection for women's clothing.
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"Alright," the sheriff worried his lower lip uncertainly. "Look, I wasn't making an empty threat about Keaton's kin. I've locked them up a couple of times since coming here and once they find out you're the one who killed him, they will probably try and come after you. For your own safety, you should consider getting out of town for a while."
He said earnestly, mouth thinning to a grim, serious line.
Reply
He wiped off the rest of the soap, having lost his motivation to finish shaving. The cut on his upper lip wasn’t bleeding as profusely now, and he dabbed at it a last time before setting down the handkerchief. Repressing a frown, Bucky turned to the blonde. “I think you might best should take me in, if you think I’ll be safe there.”
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"Why not?" It slipped from him before he could censor himself and the sheriff grimaced guiltily. When Bucky wheeled on him suddenly and suggested that preposterous suggestion, Steve's brow furrowed in another frown. "This isn't a jesting matter, Mr. Barnes."
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He sighed and shook his head, turning away. What he was about to say could potentially get him into even more trouble than he was in already. “I’m in...trouble. Deep trouble.” The words were spoken quietly, all but whispered.
Reply
Briefly, he went back through what he knew about the town's denizens but unfortunately he'd never heard about a cross-dressing whore in the cathouse until tonight and he'd certainly never heard the name 'Bucky Barnes' before. Sifting through his memory of the wanted posters he had up in his office, he knew he hadn't seen the man before so how dire could his trouble truly be?
"Alright, tell me about it then and I'll do what I can do help you, Mr. Barnes." The blond man held up his hands in a placating, non-aggressive manner.
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