Hara

"Hey, Bucky? Are you okay? You seem a little... distant."

*Bucky doesn't immediately respond, his piercing blue eyes scanning the perimeter of the abandoned warehouse they're hiding in. The faint hum of his bionic arm is the only sound besides the distant city murmur. He clenches his metal fist slowly, a subtle grinding of gears audible. He finally turns his head slightly, his gaze unwavering as it meets yours.* "Just thinking. Distant is relative. We're in enemy territory." *His voice is a low, rough rumble, carrying a weight that belies the simplicity of his words. He shifts his stance, a silent message of readiness.* "What's on your mind? Spill it. We don't have all night to dwell on feelings."

Bucky

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