AU Milliways

[therighttime]

The door opens from one pub to the next. A rosy-tinted, warm little English pub filled to the brim with uniformed soldiers and local girls, crowing and laughing and being alive, really feeling it for the first time in longer than any of them would like to admit.

The woman who is leaving that particular pub is tall - very tall, inches over six feet - shapely in her 1940s olive dress uniform. Her make-up is fresh, her tie in perfect order, her hair is even curled in classic victory rolls (it took three showgirls three hours to make it happen, but they're all used to it by now).

Stephanie Rogers is grinning, flush-faced and filled with joy as she waves to a dark-haired soldier at the bar and steps purposefully into -- another bar.

She recognizes a shift, a difference immediately, and keeps one hand on the knob even as she frowns thoughtfully at the room around her.

Comments

[winter_never_left]

"An opinion?" Jim raises an eyebrow. "For asking a question? Go on, then, tell me, what do you think my opinion is?"

[therighttime]

She hadn't meant for it to come out combative. Encouraging, entreating perhaps, but not a fight. Steph blinks at him, honestly surprised by his reaction, and pulls out the stops for a bruised male ego.

(thanks, Elena)

"Oh no," she says quickly, drawing her glass closer to herself. "I didn't mean it like that. You sound familiar with the service, is all. I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry."

[winter_never_left]

Jim is watching her - not aggressive, just interested. Not particularly bruised at all.

"No, go on," he suggests, brightly. "Pry away."

[therighttime]

"I wasn't-"

This is why schmoozing is Elena's job. Elena doesn't blush.

"I don't mean to pry," Steph finishes instead, hiding her face in a small sip of her drink - distracted when the gin goes down smooth, easy.

[winter_never_left]

"But you are," Jim points out. He's watching her properly now, eyes over his glass, dark and shadowy under his long dark hair. "Wouldn't have picked you for a man to do something halfway."

--- why did he say that?

[therighttime]

That's a good question, considering the sharp, suddenly tight expression Stephanie is shooting his way.

"Pardon me?"

[winter_never_left]

He doesn't show confusion, or hesitation. "Sorry. Slip of the tongue, ma'am."

Even if there's a small, small flicker of irritation.

"You must remind me of someone I - think I used to know."

[therighttime]

Everything about her dress, her attitude, her smile has been carefully crafted to constantly remind the public she's a woman. Everything off the battlefield, scripted for that purpose.

"It's all right," she says, because it's not. Not a compliment and not exactly an insult, but feeling more like the latter than anything.

"...I do apologize. For prying. Guess I haven't had a chance to make real conversation in a while. Hope I remind you of someone you liked, at least."

[winter_never_left]

"You know, I have no idea," Jim says, frowning. Then he shrugs, obviously not terribly concerned. "Been out of touch for a while? You can practice small talk on me, I don't mind."

[therighttime]

Steph stares back. He's already criticized her for prying - unintentionally or not - and she shouldn't, really shouldn't, it's not her place at all. This isn't even her world, really.

"Wouldn't know where to start," she admits, quiet. She's still sitting beside him, one hand curled around her glass. And she needs another sip of it, too. "It's been a while since I had much to do with people outside the war."

USO show included.

[winter_never_left]

"Which war?"

She's reminding him of something. Bringing up something in the back of his mind. It's not a problem. He'll just watch and see what happens.

[therighttime]

"Don't know it has a name yet," Steph replies with a slight shrug, sipping her drink. It's good gin, smooth - Bucky would have liked it. "I suppose we'd call it the second Great War, if it were going to be anything.

"Wherea-- um, when abouts are you from?"

[winter_never_left]

He looks at her, fingers tapping on the bar, thoughtful.

"That's another one of those really hard questions to answer."

[therighttime]

Small talk is even harder than usual today.

"You're an interesting man, Mr. Samuels," Steph tells him quietly, lowering her glass to look at him.

[winter_never_left]

"Plenty of people tell me that," he says, with a faint twitch of a smile.

Sometimes they say it to him right before he kills them.

She's interesting.

[therighttime]

It's a different word when she uses it. The way he smiles when he can't answer questions like when, where, soldiers and army isn't right. He's not interesting, not really. He's pitiable.

With Bucky's face.

Steph nods slowly and doesn't smile back. "Hope it's a compliment."

[winter_never_left]

"Not usually." He shrugs, one-shouldered again. The right shoulder doesn't move so easily, even when he lifts that hand to push back overlong hair.

"I think it might be, coming from you."

[therighttime]

Her eyes track the movement. He looks messy, unkempt, but as comfortable as if he were in a matching uniform, as neat and trim as her own.

She'd called him interesting and she'd pitied him, yes, but that didn't make it an insult.

"That's how I meant it," Steph agrees, and holds his gaze.

[winter_never_left]

The man calling himself Jim looks back at her, unbothered by the gaze.

Maybe. Mostly.

"There's something about you," he says, easily, as if it's unimportant. "Don't know what it is, but I'm pretty sure I'll figure it out."

[therighttime]

"Pretty sure I'm one of a kind," Steph replies with a slight shrug, unsure of the way he's looking at her. "But honest, Mr. Samuels, you're a dead ringer for my best friend back home."

[winter_never_left]

"Yeah?"

Already sharp eyes sharpen further. He holds up his right hand, twists it a couple of times, glances up at her face. "This too?"

[therighttime]

Ah. Well, yeah. That would explain how odd his handshake felt. She's seen injuries in the last few days to last herself years of nightmares, but this man has a solution. In a way.

"No," Steph says carefully, tracking the movement of that hand, curious. Then she smiles, sudden and soft, fond. "But he'd probably think it was swell."

[winter_never_left]

He hadn't expected her to pick up on that.

"It is pretty swell." He flexes his hand a couple more times and grins, sudden and bright. "Tell me more about this friend of yours. What's he do?"

[therighttime]

"He's a soldier. Most everyone is these days, you know."

It's what happens when there's a war on. His grin might be bright but Steph's simple smile stays soft, a little more for show than before.

[winter_never_left]

"That'll pass," he says, taking a long drink. "Wars do that. You just gotta get through it."