Eyes of Fire | Bucky Barnes

17

"So, why don' y'tell me about you, Uxolo?"

Bucky could've been a lot... smoother, with that, he was sure. But he hadn't had a friend, a new friend, in quite a long while. He was disjointed, out of practice, what could be expected of him?

Uxolo tilted her head to the side, her gaze trailing up to his so gently, so naturally, it'd almost made him forgot he'd been the one to ask the question. It astounded him, sometimes, how easily she made eye contact. However simple it was, he still struggled to hold it.

She smiled softly, "What do you mean?"

For some reason, he felt the need to explain himself, to provide her why on gods green earth would he want to get to know her. "Well, if we are supposed to be friends, shouldn't I know a little more about you?

In other words: if I'm to spill my guts to you every day, and have you knowing more about me than my best friend does (did), I need to have some information of my own to leverage if this goes wrong.

Though, with Uxolo, something was telling him it wouldn't end up like that. With Uxolo, something was telling him he just really wanted to get to know the woman who smiled at him and hugged him like it was second nature.

She set her pencil and journal down; she'd been scribbling in it for the last ten minutes or so, the pair making simple conversation over another raiboo tea; and crossed her forearms over each other.

She leaned towards him. "Okay, what is it that you want to know?"

Everything. Nothing. Something, anything.

Something simple, Bucky: "Where'd you learn to fight?"

"Right here in Wakanda!" She answered happily, motioning around as if the answer had been in front of him all along. It had. "Iiklasi zokulwa are pretty common here, so I started when I was young."

"Ik- Iiklasi? What is that?" He questioned quietly, trying not to dwell too long on his terrible pronunciation. Any louder and he might burn redder than a tomato.

He still berated himself for not knowing the native language of the people who'd taken him in. It was the least he could do, truly, and yet.

"Uhm..." Uxolo started, hiding a sheepish smile behind her hand as she tried to think up the correct translation. "It's more specific than combat..."

Bucky tilted his head, unknowingly mirroring the habit of hers he always witnessed. "Self-defense?"

"Yes! That's it!" She clapped with joy, laughing to herself for a moment. She repeated the term to stamp it into her memory. "Self-defense lessons!"

He wanted to smile. He couldn't help it, her smile was infectious. "Well, you're very good."

"Thank you." She responded, heartfelt.

God, what was it about Uxolo that made everything so.... so.....

"Yeah." He murmured absentmindedly. And then, he remembered, there was to be no absentminded dialogue from him when Uxolo was around. So, he continued, pushing through his own hesitancy, "I— uh, I know you like to read."

"Yeah, I do!" She confirmed, though he didn't need it. He'd been inside her house and seen her mass collection for himself; not to mention how many times he caught her reading. "Those books I lent you, how are they coming along? Have you yet had time to read?"

"Not as much as I'd like." He answered honestly. Most of them were collecting dust on the television stand in the living room, a fact he felt incredibly guilty about. There were a select few he'd started reading, though. He made sure to say, "But I'm enjoying them, thank you again."

"I am very glad."

Uxolo graced him with another smile, this one even smaller, sweeter, a bit fond, maybe. "If you would like, I could take you to visit the library and we can search for something you would really love."

"I- uh..." Bucky had a realization, then. Saying yes, knowing he could say no and not face any repercussions because of it, was its own kind of exhilaration.

"Think I'd like that."