#❪ ⠀ * ⠀ james ⠀﹕ ⠀interactions * bouqueue's fujiko. ⠀ ❫

[lostsouldierbye]

@bouqueue   :    "I thought it was a nice photo." It's Fujiko. She's pretending to look insulted.

      For a moment Bucky considers pretending like he doesn’t know which photo she’s talking about. But feigning innocence has never really worked in his favour with Fujiko so he simply rattles the ice in his iced coffee, takes a sip, places the cup down, and then looks at her. ‘ It . . . was . . . ’ he says, unsure what the correct answer here was. It feels like he’s constantly falling into her trap, no matter he does or doesn’t do. ‘ I just wasn’t expecting it. It felt . . . like it wasn’t for me. ’

[lostsouldierbye]

@bouqueue​ :  "We have to keep running into each other like this, people are going to talk." She's working her way into dibs now. Let her call dibs, Bucky. The sex is great and she has all kinds of toys.

‘ You’re not exactly helping me to keep a low profile. ’ He’s sure --- if she hasn’t found reason to tell someone about him already --- his presence is being rippled around town. Sooner or later, the news would reach the ears of the people he’s trying to run recon on. Maybe he’s getting tired of recon anyway, waiting for leads to fall into place. Fujiko was an unexpected variable that he had not accounted for --- and he has no real read on her, doesn’t know whether she’s harmless or more trouble than it’s worth playing along with her games for. ‘ Shouldn’t you have bodyguards, or something ? ’ It doesn’t feel right to leave her defenceless like this. 

[lostsouldierbye]

@bouqueue​   :    🍆 MUSE A [WIFE] "accidentally" sends a nude picture to MUSE B

      He’s multitasking between scoffing down a sausage bread roll and jotting down parameters of an earlier scoped location with pen and paper, going real old school, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Digging his phone out awkwardly whilst still holding the pencil in one hand, bread roll and notepaper in the other, he only checks the home screen to see if it’s an urgent message. Nothing shows up in the display except for 

                FUJIKO                 Image.

      He’d forced his number upon her for emergencies, not that he ever expected her to use it. She’s supposedly protected enough, doesn’t need him, and he doesn’t need to add bodyguard duties to the list of things he was doing in Tokyo, though leaving well enough alone is something he tends to struggle with. That small habit has apparently gotten himself mixed up with the Yakuza, something he had definitely, explicitly, told himself he wouldn’t do. 

      He grabs the end of the pencil between his teeth, and unlocks his phone with his freed thumb, swiping open his latest message. 

      He immediately looks back up, a jerk reaction to look away, pencil falling out of his mouth, eyes skirting around the room as if there was anyone else in the room with him, and even if they were, as if the image had suddenly broadcasted across his forehead, singling him out. 

      He looks back down at his phone, as he bends to absently pick up his pencil. Notices the glint of silver that he’d missed on his first glance, and his face heats up. Fujiko has never hidden how sexually uninhibited she was, Bucky strongly suspecting that every second sentence she’s said to him to be some form of innuendo. But a picture like this could hardly be mistaken for subtlety . . .

    He would like to believe that she had mistakenly sent him the picture but he gets the feeling that almost everything that Fujiko did was deliberate. Still . . . he can feign ignorance just as he’s been feigning it with her innuendos. It seems the only way to communicate with her and survive the conversation. He might’ve spent going on a decade in the 21st century now, but his proclivities are very much set in the time of his youth, and even then, he tended to be more traditional than most. An old school romantic, some would say. 

      So he texts her exactly what he’s thinking. 

                SENT                 I don’t know what to say. 

[lostsouldierbye]

@bouqueue​   :    It's Fujiko Friday, and she's gunna kiss Bucky's face cheek.

      ‘ Uh, hey. ’ So they’re doing this apparently. Hanging out without the imminent threat of a mobbing or a drive-by, even if his intentions are double-edged, not quite convinced that his sudden presence in her life hasn’t put it more at risk. That would be kind of the usual for Bucky. Messes things up more than he fixes them. They’re a mismatched pair, him in his clunky boots, dark everything from head to toe except the glimmer of a silver chain at his neck, and of course, the arm. Rough. Comparatively, she is sleek all over, and he feels the kiss on his cheek linger like cold steel against his skin, senses inundated by her perfume.