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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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"What? Yeah, I guess so." Going to school was something Tom had dragged him into. His whole philosophy on education was mixed up by this future and his different opinions. He wouldn't have brought it up, except, well, five dollar discount. The piece of plastic lay flat on the counter, now, between his palm and the glass.

It was an odd thing; Bucky didn't think much about generosity. He forked over the money for Raymond's ticket to France without so much as thinking about it. It was only his own self he didn't like to spend for.

A profound stillness in her mannerisms followed as Bucky paid; the abrupt shift of her thoughts on to financial matters threatened to sully her bright mood, so instead she rested her hand against his elbow gently, through the soft material of his jacket.

Donna moved forward to peek over his shoulder, and then gave him a look of warm gratitude. "This is very sweet of you, Bucky. You're a real gentleman -- I'll pay for our next outing, okay?"

"If you want to, sure." he said. "But I can afford this." It was true, he had plenty of money, these days. It was just inflation that got to him— and growing up, he'd always had to scrounge. He didn't want to insist, either way. It was a crummy thing to feel yourself in debt. So, he changed the subject.

"Say, how much did popcorn cost when you're from?"

"I don't know! I've lived in Manhattan for so long, and things are always pricey there, but I'm pretty sure before Reagan came it was only two dollars ... maybe two-fifty?" Her hand slid around to hook right at his elbow, and she gripped on to his arm in a ladylike manner.

"It's probably ridiculous by now."

"Six bucks, last I went to a theater. Up from fifty cents to get the ticket and refreshments." And hang, what could a person buy for fifty cents, these days? Nothing good, that's for sure. "The future can go stuff itself, for all I care."

He paused. That was maybe a bit too heartfelt. "But I never lived in New York before this. It's nice to be able to stick to someplace, for a while."

She laughed and rolled her eyes upward, unable to keep that grin off of her face as she thought of, well, how disappointing some aspects of the future were. Stuff itself, indeed.

"It's obvious that movies must have become so terrible that they need to make a majority of their money through food and beverages. I can't believe some of the films I've recently watched!" She paused after her exclamation of distaste. "Well, some were good. Very ... realistic. But I swear, there's just too much nudity and violence."

"I only saw the one, you know? And I think I got too distracted, with all the noises, and the colors— it was flashy, I'll say." He laughed. "I didn't follow the plot." He'd thought the explosions were pretty, though. In their own particular way.

"I don't think that'll be a problem here, though, do you?"

"Unless the constellations have gone up from their PG-ratings, I don't think we'll have to worry about seeing any of that at this planetarium, no," she said lightly, mentally cursing the air conditioning in this place.

"Y'know, I did just think, though ...how advanced these things must have become now that it's the future. I bet we'll be blown away."

"I sure hope so," he said, scowling in his head at the price tag. "We gotta wait fifteen minutes, though, or so the sign says."

There was one of those signs announcing the next showing, with the clock hands pointed to fifteen. There wasn't much of a crowd lining up yet, but you had to figure one would turn up soon, before the opened the doors all official.

"Well, that's fine by me," she insisted cheerily. "We can just talk for fifteen minutes!"

To Donna it seemed unlikely that Bucky would be too impressed with anything she had to say. She was used to feeling older than everyone around her, but with him, there seemed to be a daunting feeling that he had been more experienced than her, and inevitably she knew she had to fight the fear of being overbearing, or the conversation dying. This was certainly different than being out with her husband, albeit not in exactly a bad way. So, she was determined to be confident and bombastic for the duration of her time with Bucky, going mute at no challenge, and offering intelligent and quirky insights to the nuanced and the inane.

Now, if only she could find a conversation topic.

Asking him about college? A girlfriend? No, no, that might come off wrong. How about career path? Or maybe she could get him to talk more about Steve?

"So, what do you wanna talk about, then?" He knew better than to mention the war, and truth be told, outside of smalltalk and taking 'em dancing, he wasn't quite sure what to do around girls. Especially when he wasn't romancing them. Especially these modern ones. Oh, he wasn't a hopeless case, and once he got to talking he could keep right on going, no problem. But he was stuck in the same place Donna was when it came to what was appropriate.

Bucky wasn't much of a private person. But girls were different, weren't they?

"Um," Donna paused, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, in which it defiantly fell forward almost immediately afterward. "This is where I talk about my stamp collection, or ... the weather, I guess."

She let out an almost nervous laugh, but it was cut off by a confident smile, her eyes lighting up with interest as she looked at Bucky. "I guess you just interest me a lot. Aside from being generous enough to take me out, handsome, stylish, and owning a great bike... I don't know a lot about you!" As expected on a first "real" meeting. However, she continued:

"Tell me what your favorite spot in the world is."

Bucky was sort of curious to know if people did still collect stamps. He'd brought it up once, waiting for a subway, and everyone'd just looked at him strange.

"Oh, that's easy!" He smiled. "Paris, definitely Paris. Might be a bit unpatriotic of me to say so— but that is a heckuva town." Bucky'd even payed out significant sum from his own pocket to get to there, he liked it so much. "People are always insulting the French for some reason, calling 'em yellow, but I can't figure out for the life of me what for. It burns me up, if we're being honest. You ever been?"

"Have I? I positively adore Paris!" She waved her hand as she continued, making an expression of distaste. "Though, I never bought the stereotypes about the French, either. I fit in fine there!"

She began to think of her first years with the Teen Titans, and the amount of traveling that was done. She gave a wistful smile, and couldn't help but be brought back to a better time of her life.

"When I first came to Man's World ... it was one of the first places I visited. I was so enamored! The sights, the food, the fashion. It was springtime. Would you ever consider living there?"

He wasn't sure what this Man's World was, and he was sort of curious. But he wanted to answer her question first, before going down that road, so he filed it away for later.

"Live there? I dunno. I mean, I parlais français alright, and some of the métro stations are actually where I remember them. But, I don't really think about living anywhere, really. It's not something I've ever done." He stopped there, and though maybe he ought to explain himself. "My dad was in the Army, so we were always moving around. I guess, when he died, I got stuck at Lehigh for a few years, but I shipped out the day after I turned sixteen."

"Do you like that? Not really having a home? Or rather ... just making any place you temporarily are settling your home? I always thought it was an ideal way to live, but--" she examined her nails quickly out of habit, then locked eyes with Bucky again. "I've heard from some people that grew up in military families that it was hard to have a sense of stability. Or form lasting bonds outside of the force."

"Beats me. Haven't known any other way of living." He shrugged. "I'm young, you know. In my way."

"I guess that's true!" She grinned, thinking about his military background. Diana seemed to gravitate toward men in the military, and Donna ... well, Donna always felt more at ease with "warriors" from anywhere. She wondered how much of his pleasant attitude and good manners she could chalk up to the time he came from, and how much of it was military.

Or, you know. Just him.

"Well, it's interesting, all the same. I've had a lot of homes, but Themyscira remained the only constant in my life."

Edited 2010-02-04 02:17 (UTC)

"Themiscyra?" Bucky wasn't a whiz at geography, but he'd traveled enough to figure that wasn't a place on any map. This had better not be like Atlantis, he thought. People were jerks in Atlantis. It was a whole ocean full of jerks. And fish. Mostly jerks.

"An island between Greece and Turkey," Donna explained, pretty certain that Wonder Woman had made it to Patriarch's World by the time period Bucky was in. "Ever hear of Wonder Woman?"

"As in Diana?" She had been in the City a while back, but it was almost a year since she'd left. Diana wasn't someone you ever forgot, but he was a bit iffy on the codename.

"Yes!" Donna broke out into an excited grin, a feeling of reverence passing through her just at the mention of that name. "She's my sister! We grew up on the same island together."

Of course, it was more complicated than that, but Bucky didn't need to know all of the details that she herself wasn't sure of.

"She was here, before— about a year ago. Really something, that one." He looked up and down at Donna, trying to figure the resemblance and not look obvious doing it.

"But no, we don't got her in my world. Maybe. I guess I can't say, considering there are a lot of people who're from my world here that I've never seen in my life. But I'd be you've never heard of the Invaders, or else the conversation would've grown awkward already."

"Can't say I've heard of them!" She stepped in a bit closer, skimming the ends of her hair with her fingertips to make sure it wasn't as tangled as it felt from that bike ride. "It's a shame that I missed her -- but I'm certain she made quite an impact on the people here."

She glanced down at the toe of her heel, noticing that it had been scuffed. Somehow. Ah well. Her voice was low and awash in nostalgia as she spoke. "Really something, huh."

Her hand rested on her hip comfortably. This wasn't nearly as stultifying as she imagined it would be! "I'm a photographer, by the way," Donna mentioned, as if it were somehow pertinent or relevant to the conversation, and quickly amended her statement with something that actually related to a topic they had covered. "Always been fascinated with war photography, in general. How much longer do you plan on being in the military?"

"Honestly? I never really planned on leaving— but maybe they'll keep wheeling me around, after the war. I dunno." That was a lie, but a lie well meant. He did know, he'd heard all sorts of stories, awful ones. Dead at twenty, something else at twenty-one, something he thought he could make out staring, sometimes, when he looked at his reflection. Like ink bleeding in from edges. He didn't put those thoughts aloud, as though speaking them would bind him.

"Is war photography your favorite?" he asked, looking back at her and not some far-off place. "Or is it something else?"