With a list of names written in his little brown book, Bucky Barnes is determined to make amends for all he has done. But when he can't make amends with the man that saved the world, he has no other option but to turn to his daughter - Estella Stark.
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The loud ringing of her alarm was enough to stir her awake enough to turn it off, though it was not enough to wake her up enough to pull off the thick blanket that provided her with the warmth and comfort she desperately needed. After only sleeping for three to four hours, with a hungover but still slightly intoxicated, her body felt like death. It almost hurt to move her arms too much in attempt to stretch, though she was unsure of what she had done to make her feel that way. She figured that maybe she danced a little too hard, but she could not remember if she spent the night dancing at all. She could only remember two things: the dinner, and the ride back home with Bucky Barnes.
She already felt sick to her stomach from the amount of alcohol she had consumed last night, but the mere thought of the dinner that was organised specifically for her, made her feel as if she was going to vomit. Her stomach was in knots, constantly twisting and turning, and the distinct memory of her little sister's devastated face only made it worse. Not to mention, but she had an hour to get ready to see her therapist, where the lovely events of the day before would be brought to light.
A quiet groan of annoyance left her lips as she worked up the courage to finally pull the covers back, exposing her body to the cold air. The short black dress she wore to graduation, that she ultimately wore all night and even to bed, was completely ruined. It was stained with red wine and all sorts of alcohol; and the delicate sleeves had been ripped along the arms at some point during the night that she clearly did not care for. Her bare legs were sticky and covered in bruises, from times where she no doubt fell due to her drunken state – but other than these small fixable things, she was fine. Her hair was tangled and covered in vomit, but again, it was something that could be fixable. She had an hour to make herself presentable, and that was more than enough time.
Her feet hit the cold floorboards as she scrambled to her dresser, leaping over the pile of clothes scattered all over her bedroom from the aftermath of yesterday morning. Cans and bottles clinked against the floor, and her feet often pressed against empty packets of chips or candy packets that she had thrown on the floor whenever she had finished. Estella never used to be such a slob before she moved out of her home for real, but things were different now. She did not have the time to clean up after herself, and now that she had finished college, maybe she would get around to it eventually. Key word: eventually.
Her hands pulled back at the cold silver knobs of her dresser, opening the narrow draw to reveal what was left of her clean shirts. Taking the time to gather all of her dirty clothes, putting them in the washer, and then putting them into the dryer, was way too much work for her lately. It took so much time and energy to do such simple tasks, and at times like these when she needed somewhat presentable clothes, she wished that she had just taken the hour out of her day to wash her damn clothes. But, of course, she did not get around to doing that this week – so, all of her 'going out' clothes were dirty and stained.
But here was the real plot twist – a part of her did not really care what clothes she was going to wear to her appointment. She would get to the washing eventually, or maybe she would wait until Matilda finally gave in to do it for her, but either way, she was more than happy to wear an oversized sweatshirt paired with black sweatpants. She would just pair it with a cute handbag and a pair of acrylic frame sunglasses, maybe a pair of nice shoes just so she could pull of some sort of 'trendy' look. It was outside of her usual fashion style, but she was the last person on the Earth to care about her looks right now.
