His eyes finally landed on her, as bits and pieces came back to him. He vaguely recalled seeing the brunette at the street market. In fact, Magna's face was the last he remembered before everything faded into blackness. He remembered the concern in...
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LOCATION: NEW YORK CITY - USA
JANUARY 16TH
— Oh, well look at that, he can draw too!- the familiar smooth voice murmured closely behind Steve. Surprise registered in the slight lift of his brows as the latter whirled and stared up at the figure, only to find Magna's halfsmile. — Of course you can.- she joked and her eyes twinkled.
Magna's shoulder-length brunette hair flowed with the cool breeze, cascading down her maroon blazer and shining under ocasional beams of sunlight filtering through the buildings. It was a cloudy day, yet the flush of the sunset reflected off the shiny black glass of the skyscrapers.
Hands casually clasped behind her back, she stood over Steve's shoulder, glimpsing the rough pencil lines across the page. Satisfied with her inspection, the young woman darted her deep brown eyes to the street and straightened her posture. Her gaze then found his and the brunette smirked as she returned Steve his personal space. The latter's startled expression softened and he offered her a polite smile too.
There was still a visible hint of purple in some parts of his face, traces of those bruises that lingered and forced him to remember. He'd look at himself in the mirror and find everything still there. Staring back at him, his reflection showed him the helicarrier, the chaos, the fight. Steve saw it all. The pain, the water, and the aftermath of destruction. With each bruise, Steve saw Bucky.
— Magna.- he greeted her, gesturing at the unclaimed seat in front of him before closing the sketchbook.— Wanna join me?- She pointed to the empty chair next to her.
— Isn't that the point of inviting me here?- she remarked, teasing the blonde man, trying to remain calm in spite of a growing sense of apprehension. Magna walked at her own pace past his chair and to the empty one before him as Steve'd suggested, taking a seat.
— Yeah, I guess so.- he mused, lifting the cup back to his lips and taking a sip. — Thanks for meeting me, by the way.
Between them was a round steel table, only a white mug and Steve's drawings occupying its surface, next to a napkin holder with the coffee shop's vintage logo. She looked at him for a moment, biting her lip, and then turned and beckoned over the waitress. Magna heard Steve breathe out a quiet little laugh.
She turned to her previous position, leaning back on the chair and crossing one of her long legs over the other, one boot swinging. As she shrugged, the corners of her lips curled upwards involuntarily.
— I'm not one to turn down conversation and coffee, like, ever.- she commented, humor still lacing her words. Steve shot her an skeptical glance and she rolled her eyes. — Well, maybe just the conversation. Never a good cup of coffee.- she looked across at him and her lips parted again to continue, tone noticeably lower, meant for only him to hear. — ... add some Captain America to the mix too and it's pretty much an offer impossible to decline.
