[Not displeased, no, but he definitely looks confused, his brow furrowed, watching Bucky warily, on the lookout for any signs of displeasure in him. The reassurance that Clint won't be returned does nothing to actually reassure him. Bucky can say anything. It's not like someone's going to hold him to it.
He takes the bottle but doesn't open it, rolling it between his palms instead, feeling the cold against his hands.]
I...I don't know what you want to work out, sir.
[Bucky makes the rules. That's how all this works. Bucky makes the rules, and Clint follows them. Why are they still talking about this?]
no subject
He takes the bottle but doesn't open it, rolling it between his palms instead, feeling the cold against his hands.]
I...I don't know what you want to work out, sir.
[Bucky makes the rules. That's how all this works. Bucky makes the rules, and Clint follows them. Why are they still talking about this?]