capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

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(no subject)

WHO: Bucky, Donna
WHERE: Titans Tower -> Central Park
WHEN: Backdated to whenever we said this was happening ICly.
WARNINGS: Nope!
SUMMARY: Bucky shows of his motorcycle, they go to the planetarium in Central Park.
FORMAT: Whatever works best! It's easiest for me to start logs in paragraph form, but I have no attachment to it when it comes to tagging.

If there was one thing about the future Bucky loved, it was probably his motorcycle. Which figured, because it was a 1937 model that had just been spruced up some. (His second week here, he'd gotten a good look at the front seat of a car and all its workings, and it very near turned his stomach. Did everything really have to light up like that?) His bike had some newfangled paint on it that made it shine extra, but it was still something he could wrap his hands around and understand. So he was eagar at least to take it out for a bit, show it off.

He hadn't been to the Planetarium before, neither. Some of what Donna had said had made him think— there was really a lot in this place for a person to see. So yeah, he figured seeing was something he ought do more of.

And that is where he was, standing outside of Titans Tower, not wearing a proper helmet.

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It was an odd thing to dissect -- why exactly it was so exhilarating, the thought of getting on a motorcycle again, when she'd flown at great speeds without the help of a vehicle, but she'd felt a relentless excitement crawling throughout her body all day, and it wasn't particularly unwelcome.

"Any distraction is," she stated in a clipped tone to the reflection staring back at her, hooking the back of her earring in. "Aaand you're talking to yourself." She angled her head to receive a satisfying glimmer of the jewelry that had adorned her skin in the right lighting, before skipping out the door. The weather was cold, and she didn't want to make this nice young man wait!

Once outside, she greeted him with a broad smile, delighted at just about everything he'd appeared to be. That vintage bike! That style, that hair!

After a loose wave, she pushed some hair behind her shoulder, and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Sorry, I had to wait until my dad was asleep."

He laughed at that, open and honest. Which was rare for him, but he was out for a good time. And having a pretty girl for company did not disagree with him. He had half a mind to take a detour to wherever Tom had gotten himself up to and scare the bejesus out of him— 'cause he was quite afraid of good looking gals. But that was just a thought. He said he was going to the Planetarium, and he wouldn't go

"Hello," he said. Then, after a moment under the hang of the grim, gray sky, he opened his mouth again. "Are you cold? You can borrow my jacket."

Reminded of Jason, she felt an almost instantaneous affection for him. She shook her head gently as she approached.

"I'm fine for now," she walked two of her fingers along the shoulder of his jacket as she passed him, circling the bike with interest. "Wow, looking at it -- and you, though, just depresses me. Fashion has really taken a nosedive!"

Her eyes sparkled with fascination at the model, not really knowing anything about motorcycles and whatnot, but guessing it was incredibly valuable and would make most men die of glee, while most women would naturally swoon with joy.

"You're looking fantastic." Her words were thrown at the bike, but they applied to Bucky's suave style just as well.

Edited 2010-01-26 02:28 (UTC)

If Bucky knew he was mentally being compared with Jason Todd of all people, he might have some grumbling to do. Luckily, he didn't, and so was free to basque in the attention his motorcycle was getting. Which suited him just fine, thank you very much.

"It was a present," he said. "My friend Steve bought it and fixed it up for me. He's pretty much the best person who ever lived." After a second of consideration, he added, "Well, except maybe Jesus. But I never met Him."

"Steve, hm?" She asked gamely, running the pads of her fingers along the handlebar of the bike, keeping eye contact with Bucky.

"I have someone like that in my life, too. I'd like to hear more about him!" She paused, mentally pinpointing him as a sidekick, or, at least, a former sidekick. Protégé? It took one to know one, of course, and the thought elicited a truncated laugh.

She placed both hands on Bucky's shoulders, giving both a light pat.

"Just how old are you, anyway?"

Edited 2010-01-26 03:16 (UTC)

Bucky hated the word sidekick, even if that's how the newsreels trumped him up to be. Steve was his best friend, maybe, but there was about four years age difference between the two, and no great general divide. The Army was the one who had stuck them together, and it hadn't been so he could get an education. But that didn't matter much, anymore. After all, he was here, and Steve wasn't, and that was the way of things when you get right down to 'em.

He put his foot near the clutch but didn't start the engine up just yet. It would be pretty hard to answer her with the noise of the bike and the air. "It depends how you count it. I'll be 86 in a few months, but I'm just a bit past twenty-two."

The photographer in her echoed shouts of observation in her mind. How much of a "classic handsome" he had been, how smooth his features were, how good he'd look in this and that. No matter how seasoned she was at her career, it still was perpetually awkward to ask people if she could photograph them, especially out of the blue.

Maybe some other time.

"You don't look a day older than eighteen!" She tapped his cheek lightly, waiting for him to position himself on the bike first. "I had just wanted to check, since I was thinking of catching a picture show with you sometime."

She glanced to the side. "Um, if you wouldn't mind, of course."

Yeah, he knew he didn't look his age. Either of them. He used to spend quite a bit of time staring at mirror and trying to grow facial hair, but that fact is embarrassing and won't be making it out of his head.

"What sort of picture shows you thinking about dragging me to, that require me to be of age?" Sitting on the bike like he is, he can't quite turn around to look at her, but you can hear the grin in his voice. "That ain't proper at all."

And his positioning was fortunate, because a sudden blush had erupted across Donna's countenance as her eyes widened considerably. She gripped the seat as she got comfortable behind him, or ... as comfortable as she could be with such an insinuation.

"Oh nonono," Donna laughed, moving her gaze away from the examination of his jacket into the welcoming distraction of the various dead trees around them. "I, uh. I was thinking a horror film!"

The laughter took on a more pleasing pitch, as she felt embarrassed for herself in all of the best and good-humored ways. "You know, the special effects must be outrageous these days."

Luckily for Donna, that was about as scandalous as Bucky could get. "Don't worry," he said, more serious. "I don't have intentions." He was a gentleman good and proper when it came down to it, at least where girls were concerned.

He paused a bit, he'd gone to see an action film almost a year ago. The explosions were spectacular— he'd been paying too much attention to the color to even notice the plot. "They are. But it's murder, what they charge for popcorn." That was why he hadn't gone back, honest. He was a bit of a cheapskate.

But Bucky turned his head back to the road, and put is hands on the bars where they belonged. "You ready?"

Oh, popcorn. She tucked that delicious thought into the back of her head. It had been far too long since she had had any, really.

His comment on the price of it, however, was so frighteningly believable that Donna dreaded actually finding out the inflation of the price. Movie tickets were probably a lot more expensive, too. She bowed her head and laughed as she gripped on to the back of his jacket. Which, had reminded her, she had to return a certain jacket that was given to her by a friend.

Sliding her fingers to rest flatly against his stomach, she locked them and let out a small "Mm-hmm."

"Well, alright then." Starting up a motorcycle's a multi-step process, and it requires a bit of kicking. But soon enough the engine roared to life and they were pulling away from the sidewalk. He wasn't trying to go especially fast— city traffic made it hard, and the wind was cold enough already. Still, it was quicker than a taxi, easier not to get completely drowned in the yellow crawl. You couldn't talk much though, both because it took concentration to keep yourself in other people's mirrors, and because of all the noise.

She stayed quiet most of the ride, noticing the remnants of Christmas lights strung along some trees as they passed them by. Her gaze flickered at pedestrians and cars alike, taking note of fashion changes and various trends she could not begin to comprehend. She was decidedly unimpressed with the shape most cars had taken, though.

20...10 was it? And no jet packs for each citizen. Color Donna Troy disappointed. The bridge of her nose crinkled a bit as she smiled to herself, holding on to Bucky tightly, taking an opportune moment at a red light to speak.

"Will this be your first time at the planetarium!?"

"I've walked by it a few times, never been inside," he yelled, having to face the road out of obvious necessity. The park wasn't too far away, now, but sitting at traffic lights was always the worst. Too much temptation for your mind to wander, to look around and notice things. If you stopped to do that, though, you miss the light and get everyone honking at you.

"Well, good!!" She kept her voice at a tone that matched his, as her body was greeted with building excitement as they neared their destination. She wanted to ask too many things -- did they sell snacks at the planetarium? Popcorn? Would asking that make her sound ditzy? Why would a planetarium have food in it? But didn't people visit them often, and weren't tours given? Field trips? It should have food.

Besides, it was too noisy to really ask him anything without feeling like she was inconveniencing his larynx, so she let it go and rested her cheek against his back, letting out a small shiver as the cold wind had finally begun to get to her.

"It will be more memorable that way."

"That's a pretty way of looking at it," he managed to get out before the light turned green and they were rushing through traffic again. A couple blocks went by, a few more rows of townhouses. Around Central Park was where all the rich folk lived, in pre-war buildings and those made to look pre-war. But trash could get on the ground here just like anly other part of the City.

Underneath the Planetarium was a parking garage. That's where Bucky was heading— he was sure it'd wind up costing him an arm and a leg, and hell, maybe two arms and a leg, but he couldn't bear to just leave his bike out on the street where it might get rained on.

She clutched tightly to him, feeling like some of the koala bears she'd witnessed at the zoo before. After clinging for what felt like an eternity for safety and warmth (something she, as an Amazon, was not entirely used to), a part of her had to restrain the urge to jump off the cycle before he could properly park it.

"So, do you think ...it will be packed?" Donna asked as they slowed and neared the garage. "Or will it be just us?"

"Ain't got a clue. It's attached to the history museum, though." Glancing around the parking lot, there seemed to be quite a few people, but it wasn't much of a trouble finding a spot. It smelled like oil, here, in the stillness particular to parking garages and white concrete walls. Pulling into a compact space on the second level.

"Two-B," he said. "And don't let me forget it." He was just saying that for the sake of putting his voice into the air. There wasn't a chance he was gonna forget.

"Four-Z, got it." She hopped off the motorcycle, allowing herself to float in the air for a while before her feet touched the ground, stretching along the way. Once settled on to the concrete, she rubbed at her arms and let out a small shiver.

"That was a very smooth ride," Donna exclaimed, impressed. "You have any kind of alarm on that thing?"

Swinging off the bike himself, Bucky gave her a look that said real clever at that four-zed comment. Seeing her hang in the air like that startled him— but only a little. He was used to all this powers mumbo-jumbo, after all, even since before he got stuck here. But he was always going to be a tourist. Someone born in Indiana, not Atlantis, who'd made it to age fifteen without bursting into flames.

"What? No," he said, shaking his head when it'd worked its way around what she was saying. "I'm not Captain Midnight, I don't have much in the way of bells and whistles."

With a small "ah" sound, Donna threw a glance back at the bike, then moved in close to link arms with Bucky.

"That thing's absolutely gorgeous, by the way." Her words were colored with a near-dreamy tint as she spoke. "You get a lot of envious souls stopping you on the street, Bucky? Asking you what model it is, where'd ya get it, all of that?"

"Nope, actually. Most of the time I'm on it I'm riding away, and on the whole people here are too busy with themselves to notice much." He paused, considering. "There was one guy who asked me about it once, though. He was real loud about it, too, wore a furry hat."

With that, Bucky hunched over in his bike's own rear-view mirror, to straighten his hair out. Even going slow will get your hair mussed something awful, and he wore his as long as military regulation would permit. He did keep a tin of pomade in his inside jacket pocket, so he could fix up some. It was a bit embarrassing to be doing it with a girl just standing right next to him, but it'd be worse if he went walking around with his hair sprouting every which direction.

The sight was a bit amusing -- she wasn't used to men grooming like that in front of her, let alone being consciously aware about their image in such a way, but it wasn't exactly an unwelcome sight. She placed a hand over her mouth, turning her head subtly as if to pretend she'd seen something much more interesting in the distance so Bucky could properly have "alone time" with his hair.

Donna had hoped he couldn't see her tightened and stifled smile that her fingers tried so desperately to cloak. She knew guys could get a bit insecure about looking "feminine" or metro or whatever new slang they were calling it these days. However, he did come from a different time, so maybe the context wasn't as embarrassing?

"Wow, this part of the city is a lot nicer."

The thing about mirrors is that they let you see what's behind. He did feel awkward; but there was nothing to do about it, so best to press on. If she wasn't going to comment about it snide, then he didn't have to respond. They could mutually ignore each other. And change the subject.

"Sure, s'where all the rich people live. You'd think with everything that happens in the park these days, people'd be less keen on living by it." Seeing a sign that pointed towards the elevators, he started walking. His shoes had real soles, the kind that clicked on concrete.

"Everything that happens in the park?" She quirked an eyebrow up, patting the back of her hair with the palm of her hand to feel if it had been untamed by the wind. Nope, still smooth. "Dare I ask?"

She walked alongside Bucky, trying to match the sound of his "clicking" with her heels. It was an obsessive compulsive thing. She liked when feet were "married."