In the Dead of the Night || Winter Soldier

Nine: Enchanting

Whenever I go into town to meet up with Tommy and Naomi, Bucky always seems to get this... uncomfortable feeling about him. Like – here we go with this simile again – a newborn puppy being left at home alone, waiting at the door for his owner to return. It's been happening for the past month now, yet the longer he has stayed here, the more he seems to loathe me leaving him alone in this house. Which is why recently, due to my iron will being not so much of an iron will but more of a cotton will, I have offered for him to accompany me to my little breakfasts, lunches, dinners and other outings with Naomi and Tommy whenever I can be bothered to exit hibernation from my home.

He doesn't do much, or say much. He just kinda... sits there and watches on with interest. I've seen smiles cracking on his face a few times; humour lining those pensive yet almost non-existent stress lines like the light of morning break dusting the land. Naomi and Tommy have been real good sports about it too, both of them having tried to include him in conversations a few times. His replies are always laconic and plain, dousing the sparks of new conversation rather quickly. And here I thought I was an anti-social, awkward little butterfly.

Naomi and I tread down the empty local high school corridor lackadaisically – that means casually, FYI – with Bucky loitering closely behind me, like my own, personal shadow that even remains out of the light of the sun. Naomi adorns her typical black leather jacket, torn black skinny jeans and bold, revealing midriff which is – oh, shocking, black. She likes to think it reflects her soul, which it does, but could she at least put on something a bit warmer?

Tugging my dark purple cardigan closer in around me, I feel my nose crinkle in mild displeasure, the act shifting my glasses around a bit. "I'm cold just looking at you Nomi. Kids these days, I mean, is it that hard to put a normal sweater on? And what's this?" I squeak, poking her revealed, stone-like stomach with my index finger grumpily. "Tummy flesh? Really? It's winter for Pete's sake. Such irresponsible behaviour young Padawan. You'll catch a cold!"

A sly grin slips onto Naomi's lips as we walk, her with a more confident sway than me. "One; I'm six years older than you, you can hardly call me a kid. Two; thanks, mom, but I'm fine. I grabbed my jacket on the way out."

"Hmph," I grump, only adding to Naomi's amusement. Apparently I'm endearing when I'm angry or grumpy. Don't ask why, because I dunno. I can be terrifying if I want, I know it! I'm scary... scary necromancer... "Tommy won't be impressed. You'll distract all of his hormonal male –a few female as well – students."

"They'll be fine," she waves off unconcerned, yet when she sways a bit closer to me, I notice a familiar, strong scent tainting her breath.

"Are you... are you sober?"

"Pfft, no," she answers. "I'm Gemini."

"Ah, wonderful," I sarcastically exasperate, approaching Tommy's classroom but waiting for the school bell to ring before venturing inside. "I was worried you were drunk. Thank you, for clearing all of my concerns." Well, not drunk, more likely tipsy. Still, it's only 3:00 in the afternoon, couldn't she have waited? I internally sigh, knowing why she most likely didn't. Damn Damien. I'm going to jinx his stuffed, deceased cat one day just to spite him – well, no, I probably won't, but the thought is there!

"It's what I'm here for buddy," she smiles happily, not-so-lightly punching me in the arm in a chummy manner.

I flinch from contact but laugh, eyes still glued to her as she begins to try and casually break into a few students' lockers. Turning to Bucky, I note his furrowed brows and inquisitive gaze beneath the brand new cap hat, hair brushed behind his ears. Inching closer to him, I lightly explain "Damien, her boyfriend, runs a club further in town. He's a mixologist, does all that drink mixing and making and stuff. He likes making new alcoholic mixes, mixes which he often gets Naomi to try once he starts to feel a bit buzzed. I was considering jinxing his stuffed, deceased cat, but thought against it. Big guy, ya know? Goes to the gym regularly. "