[Well, Lee is still in one piece, so. That's okay enough for Bucky. He's still in a strange mental state, not quite trusting all his senses, not quite certain that all this is actually happening or what to make of all this. But he's not closed off completely to what's happening outside the house and any news Lee might have from his gallivanting around that he's willing to share.]
Thanks. [He takes the papers and sits down in front of the coffee table to unfold them and flip through. He doesn't seem to dwell on any article for as long as he should, taking a few seconds to scan each piece as his eyebrows furrow deeper and deeper. If he'd been awake in 1960 he might have remembered some of these things happening, then maybe he would know if this place might be fake somehow. But he wasn't conscious for any significant stretch of time so he can't tell.
At least they've got a date and the rough lay of the land. Wasn't all a waste. They should probably go out and talk to the other confused people out there. If it's not just the two boys in this house, there's probably more than four displaced people here right now.]
This house is real, as far as I can tell. It's not-- I mean it's staged, but. Not bugged. No cameras. Whoever brought us here isn't watching us right now. At least, not like that. [If they've got a magic mirror or crystal ball or some shit, that is way out of Bucky's league.]
Back in the 1940s we didn't have fast fashion, so we didn't own so many clothes. [Or so many anything, really, but the clothes are something he's also been rifling through.] We didn't start dressing down until the 80s. All this is tailor made. [Bucky tugs on the hem of his shirt.] If the clothes in the room you woke up in fit you, somebody took your measurements and made you a wardrobe.
[And he should probably try some of that stuff on instead of leaving his designated home in his pajamas. It doesn't look like whoever actually owns this place is coming back anytime soon to chastise them for raiding the fridge or wearing their clothes.]
no subject
Thanks. [He takes the papers and sits down in front of the coffee table to unfold them and flip through. He doesn't seem to dwell on any article for as long as he should, taking a few seconds to scan each piece as his eyebrows furrow deeper and deeper. If he'd been awake in 1960 he might have remembered some of these things happening, then maybe he would know if this place might be fake somehow. But he wasn't conscious for any significant stretch of time so he can't tell.
At least they've got a date and the rough lay of the land. Wasn't all a waste. They should probably go out and talk to the other confused people out there. If it's not just the two boys in this house, there's probably more than four displaced people here right now.]
This house is real, as far as I can tell. It's not-- I mean it's staged, but. Not bugged. No cameras. Whoever brought us here isn't watching us right now. At least, not like that. [If they've got a magic mirror or crystal ball or some shit, that is way out of Bucky's league.]
Back in the 1940s we didn't have fast fashion, so we didn't own so many clothes. [Or so many anything, really, but the clothes are something he's also been rifling through.] We didn't start dressing down until the 80s. All this is tailor made. [Bucky tugs on the hem of his shirt.] If the clothes in the room you woke up in fit you, somebody took your measurements and made you a wardrobe.
[And he should probably try some of that stuff on instead of leaving his designated home in his pajamas. It doesn't look like whoever actually owns this place is coming back anytime soon to chastise them for raiding the fridge or wearing their clothes.]