1961/Uh, Do You Know Who I Am

Uh, Do You Know Who I Am
Date of Scene:	04 June 2020
Location:	Alleyways: Brooklyn
Synopsis:	Um, no, neither of them know who each other is - but hey, there's the Internet for research!
Cast of Characters:	James Barnes, Patsy Walker

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James Barnes has posed:
Buck's situational awareness is still off the charts by ordinary human standards....and he's totally averse to touching his cellphone unless he absolutely has to. That said, he has his moments. And Lili has suddenly started favoring her paw. So he's kneeling down to inspect it, having drawn them both out of the flow of traffic on the sidewalk, just at the mouth of the alley. No cap on, ordinary civilian clothes in the form of a t-shirt, fatigue pants, boots, and a compression sleeve over the arm.

Patsy Walker has posed:
It comes at the tail-end of the dying sound of a large truck rumbling past, its steel-lined bed holding layers of lumber and one busted-up washing machine: the click of a pistol's hammer being cocked.

"Wallet."

That's all the young punk says from the heavy shadows of the alleyway. He speaks behind his bandanna tied around his face and with a beanie-cap pulled down to his eyebrows. He's in clothing that, as a whole, has seen better days, from the scuffed-up Carhart jacket to the jeans with a hole in one knee and the second-hand boots. There's a manic light to his dark eyes, as if he //might// be tweaking out on something.

It's still a little freaky that his gun-hand is so steady.

James Barnes has posed:
That has Bucky surging up from his kneeling position, back to his feet, and interposing himself between Lili and the kid. He's unleashing her even as he does, and points off to the side - indicating that she should go down the sidewalk a-ways and stay there. All the better to be out of the line of fire. Once she's scooting off, he holds up his hands.

"Hey, kid, what's this about?" he says, quietly. He doesn't move, not going for his own gun or his wallet. The Brooklyn accent's strong in his voice, and his eyes are concerned. There might as well be a ghostly Steve standing behind his shoulder, telling him to at least *try* the non-violent option first.....and Winter standing behind the other, hissing in pleasure at the idea of crushing this kid's windpipe for his temerity.

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Wallet."

There's just the tiniest bit of tremble now in the young man's voice, but boy howdy, that gun is still aimed dead at the soldier's chest. He doesn't seem to have noticed that Lili has been dismissed; his gaze didn't waver a touch from his proposed target. Now he says it again, possibly interrupting any spoken response from Bucky in the process: "WALLET!"

James Barnes has posed:
There's no glint of metal visible on the gloved hand he lifts and slowly brings around before him. Holding it palm out before the muzzle of the gun. "Hey, kid, hey," he says, using the tone of voice one might use on a fractious horse. "Whatcha need the money for? I don't have a wallet, but I got some cash. You hungry? You hooked on something, that why you're out here?" He takes a pace forwards.

Patsy Walker has posed:
The guy he's pointing the gun at isn't supposed to walk FORWARD. It's supposed to go the opposite way. The young man's eyes go wide, their pupils pinpointed.

"Y-Y-You -- STAND DOWN!" Now both hands go to the gun's grip, as if it would steady it more than it already had. It pulls the unzippered front of his jacket to one side to reveal a dirtied Army shirt of recent print, more than likely within the last four years. Now he's closer to panicking by the way what's visible of his facial skin has paled. "You don't KNOW ME!"

James Barnes has posed:
"Hey, hey, buddy," Bucky's moving with deliberate slowness. "No, I don't know ya. But you look like a guy in a bad place, or you wouldn't be out here doin' that. Here, just lower the gun. I ain't gonna hurt ya. There's no need for this. C'mon. Where'd they send ya? Gotta be Afghanistan, right? We never can stop fucking around there, can we?"

Patsy Walker has posed:
If possible, his eyes go wider. "N-NO! NO! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME GO BACK!" The gun jitters in his hands and then drops...slowly...towards his feet. Now he's openly weeping, collapsing down to his knees one muted thump at a time. "Momma won't lemme come home, said I gotta get clean first and -- and -- shit's gone sideways -- it makes them stop -- makes the nightmares stop," he sobs, head hanging and shoulders rounded.

Deeper in the alley, deliberately in a falling ray of light, drops down a figure in a golden-orange catsuit with black-blue bloots and gloves, her eared cowl-mask hiding all but from cheekbones down and the fall of red hair. She lands in a silent crouch atop a pile of crates and puts a finger to her lips, wincing: don't give me away, pretend I'm not here!

James Barnes has posed:
"I'm not gonna make you go anywhere, buddy," Buck's voice is soft, and he's kneeling again. A rising whistle and there's the scrabble of claws, Lili coming to her human. "You sound like you really need help. What's your name? I'm James, and this is Lili. She's not an attack dog, she's my service dog."

Then the masked hero appears, and both Buck and Lili cock their heads in unison at her. Buck immediately wrenches his gaze back down, and Lili's refocussing, too. Buck's got his human hand in her ruff.

Patsy Walker has posed:
Bucky is wise to have warned the young guy that Lili isn't nearly as scary as she appears. He cringes behind a lifted arm until he recognizes the Service Dog vest and then stares at Barnes with wide and glossy eyes.

"Travis," he says with a hiccup and another sob. "Travis Blakeley, and yeah, it was Afghanistan. IED. Lost half of my...my..." He breaks down into sobbing again, cuffing at his face. "Fuck, can't hold my shit together -- how'd you know?" Tears have soaked into the bandanna now as he stares at Bucky. "You one of us?"

The Hellcat continues remaining very, very still, just listening and watching.

James Barnes has posed:
"Do you want to pet her, Travis? Or let her come to you? She's trained to deal with veteran PTSD. Because yeah, I got messed up pretty bad when I was in the Army and a friend of mine I served with helped me get her. I wouldn't'a thought a dog could make so much of a difference, but she does. She wakes me up when the nightmares are really bad."

Lili's wagging her tail, glancing between them. Lemme help, boss, lemme help. "I'm outta the Army now, sorta. I mean, technically I'm still on the books but...."

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Never get outta the Army," sniffles the young man, finally letting the gun just lie on the ground. It's definitely at a distance where grabbing for it might be unwise, but maybe moving slowly might not make Travis lunge for it again. He pulls down his bandanna to cuff at his nose and give Lili an openly-hurting look. Then he nods. "She looks really soft. She really does help out?"

From the catsuited figure, a thumbs-up and small smile.

James Barnes has posed:
"Yeah, they make it hard, but....yeah." Buck gives the dog a proud look. "She is. I brush her every day and wash her once a week." The mention of 'brush' has Lili glancing his way hopefully, just a flick of brown eyes. "See, just my saying it makes her look at me," he laughs. "She loves it. I even brush her teeth every day - they make chicken-flavored toothpaste for dogs, how crazy is that?" A gesture gives Lili permission to go to Travis, and she comes waggling over, ears pinned, like she's delighted to help. "Yeah. If I get kind of locked up in my own head, she can snap me out of it....or if I'm really far gone, she can get help. She keeps people away from me when I'm in real distress."

Patsy Walker has posed:
Travis's hands, free of gun, rise to greet Lili as she wiggles her way within reaching distance. "God, that's...really fucking cool, man," he says, voice breaking into another sob. "I had a dog like her growing up." Sniffle, as he ruffles the fur at her cheeks and down her neck, trying so hard to smile and yet so profoundly miserable coming down off his drug high. "His name was Tater. Like tater tot. Fucking stupid, but he was the best dog."

He rubs at his face again with the outside of his wrist and looks back to Bucky. "You...you think the veteran's hospitals are safe? People have told me to go, but...I don't trust 'em." He keeps petting at Lili's chest.

James Barnes has posed:
"Aw, that's a good name," Buck's laughing a little, despite himself. "Lili's named after an old song. You had a Shepherd, too? They're so smart. When I was a kid, I used'a watch these old movies about this German Shepherd called Rin Tin Tin. Me and my friend used to talk about how some day we'd have a dog like Rinty. She's about as close as they come."

The question about the veterans' hospitals makes him blink. "I think they can help you, yeah. But if you don't want to go to them, there are civilian organizations that can help." Lili's panting, happily, and trying to nudge her head under Travis's hand.

Buck flicks a questioning look at Patsy, but doesn't let it linger.

Patsy Walker has posed:
Of little help at the time, the Hellcat shrugs and winces again. She mouths, "You're doing a good job, I don't want to interrupt!" Hopefully that translates well enough without actual volume behind it.

Travis nods, looking at Lili and then down at the splotch of discarded paper on the pavement by his left knee. "I should probably get help," he says, voice very quiet and depressed now. "Almost shot a fellow soldier over some...some...fucking blow. Yeah, I know where to go. I'm sorry, man." Another sniffle and he looks up at Bucky. "Fuck, I'm really sorry. I just...I have no money for food either."

James Barnes has posed:
"I got enough for that. I really don't have a wallet, though. All those cards? I suppose I should get one...." He genuinely doesn't. He's got an old school money clip....which he pulls out. He thumbs out all his cash, hands it over - six twenties. "Uh, d'you have somewhere safe to sleep? I got somewhere you can go, if you don't. I'll be honest, it's basically an attic with a cot in it, but it's got heat and water and it's safe."

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Jesus...//fuck//," breathes Travis as he takes the cash with fingers that briefly shake. "Uh -- yeah, I have a place to sleep, I'll be fine. Fuck. Thank you." Another look between the dog and her handler. "Thank you," he says, voice breaking again. "Holy shit, I can eat."

Suddenly, he's scrambling to his feet in a very ungainly manner. One boot kicks the gun to bounce off the wall, forgotten. "Thank you, man! Thank you!" He then darts around Bucky and out onto the sidewalk, there and gone in a flutter of Carhart jacket around the corner of the building.

Hellcat's blown sigh of relief is audible. "Well done, that was impressive." Her voice is quieter than before, not hopped up on adrenaline, but no less mellow as she steps down the pyramid of wooden crates like steps. Her smile is small but friendly. "James, right?"

James Barnes has posed:
"Wait, come back!" Buck's lifting his hand to try and forestall him, but he doesn't grab him. Lili makes a puzzled 'ruh?' noise and looks to Bucky, uncertain. Did she do something wrong? "No, girl, you did good," he says, ruffling her ears.

Then he's getting up, rummaging in his pocket. He comes out with a marker and a piece of chalk....and going to the brick wall of the alley, writes carefully, in letters big enough to be noticeable, "Travis? James" followed by a phone number. The phone number of at least one of his burner phones.

Only then does he turn to her. "Yeah," he says, smiling. "I remember you. From the Park. Uh....." Now he drops his gaze for a moment. "Your, uh, work name has escaped me, though."

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Yep, that's me, from the Park." The confirmation arrives just before she does, stopping at a conversational distance. His admission has the redhead smiling a little bit more. "It's Hellcat. It's okay, it's not like I've contacted you about anything. Thanks for the number though, really, it's good to know that I can call you if I see him again."

Her cornflower-blue eyes slide to the alleyway's entrance, the last place they saw young Travis. Her lips thin and she then sighs. "He's a new one. Sometimes I see him here, sometimes I don't. He wasn't lying," she adds, looking back to Bucky. The little smile returns, just enough to show teeth. "He does have a place to sleep and other clothes. I don't know where and I hope it's not a drug house, but...you've got a big heart, giving him that money. I really want him to buy food with it."

James Barnes has posed:
The look in his eyes....for a long moment, it's just all of that brokenness. Like gazing out a window and realizing the building that was next door is now rubble. "Yeah?" he says, quietly. "I know what it's like to be so hungry you don't know what to do. I hope he does, too. But....even if he doesn't, if he calls me, I'll figure something out. I can't help all of 'em, but I can help some....and I know guys that can do more."

Patsy Walker has posed:
Again, the Hellcat grows solemn, her smile melting into a knowing scrunch of lips. Her eyes fall to Lili almost automatically, as if wondering if the dog is going to step up and bunt at her handler or if the responsibilities involve more serious emotional instances.

"Yeah... It's hard not to //want// to be the one doing all of the helping, if you know you can fix things, but...I'm learning that I can't be everywhere at once, y'know? You did some good today -- some really-real good," she insists quietly as she meets his gaze again, her arms loosely crossed more across her stomach than her ribs. "I mean, I saw it, so there's no take-backsies." It's a tentative attempt at humor, to banish the haunting of their shared moment.

James Barnes has posed:
Lili's right on cue, resting her face against his chest, making him pet her. Buck grins a little, at that. "Yeah. You can't save everyone. That's the hell of it. Sometimes you can't even save the one you want to. I....I gotta lotta friends buried in north Africa, in Italy, in France. They were all good. They deserved to come home and have grandkids they could tell their war stories to. But they didn't. At least they bring back the guys from Iraq and Afghanistan."

Patsy Walker has posed:
Hellcat takes another silent step forward and then, straight-spined, descends to one knee. It seems more appropriate than continuing to talk from on-high.

After a moment, she decides to just settle down to sitting on her boot-heels, arms still folded loosely across her stomach. Impromptu Memory Convention, ahoy! "Yeah, they do their best to bring them back." There's a flicker of memory in her own eyes, lined by dark kohl as they are. The instance of a frown hidden behind the cowl still translates well enough. "Wait...Italy and France? North Africa?" Her lips part as if she'd say more, but she just looks, quietly curious.

James Barnes has posed:
There's that cant of his brows, and then he laughs, ruefully. "I'll tell you where I served.....and when and how, but you're not gonna believe me. Because most of the guys I served with are long gone, and the few that are left are mostly in nursing homes. I'm the last living American veteran of Torch, Husky, and Overlord. I enlisted in the US Army on December 7th, 1941. I really am named James, but most people who have heard of me know my nickname, Bucky." He spreads his hands, like a magician demonstrating he has nothing up his sleeve.

Patsy Walker has posed:
Her brows hike again, still communicated even behind the cowl. She blinks to hear the recognizable titles of the pushes in the war -- her dad had been the history nut, not her -- and then comes the nickname.

Hellcat purses her lips, squinting. "Okay, so...you're James, but people call you 'Bucky' and you were somehow involved in all of that? Like...involved for real? I mean, sorry, you're not wrong, that's...I mean, if that's real, that's..." Her eyes scan him down and up. "I mean, bold of me to note, I know, but you look pretty damn good for...holy crap, at least eighty." A blink. "Ninety?"

James Barnes has posed:
"I'm over a hundred," he says, ruefully. "In terms of years since I was born." Her lack of comprehension has his lips thinning out wryly. "Most people know of me because they saw me standing behind Captain America in an old picture. Which isn't a bad thing to be known for, believe me, I ain't grousin'."

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Whoa," comes the breath of true astonishment at that number -- one-hundred years of age and he looks like //that//?! Hellcat tilts her head, still frowning as he thinks. Behind Captain America in an old picture.

"I feel kind of bad for not recognizing you off the bat if that's the case, wow." A black-gloved hand rises to fiddle with a stray lock of red hair, very likely a sheepish fidget. Her eyes roll off to one side before returning to his face. "I'll look you up though, cross my heart. It's amazing that you've lived that long. Captain America though?" Her grin shows again, this time enough to show white teeth. "I mean, super no take-backsies now with the nice stuff, if you hung out with him."

James Barnes has posed:
Now Buck's reddening a little. "I.....it's a long story," he says, and there's that rough note in his voice. "But yeah, I....well, let's say he's a real good influence. Always has been for me, anyhow." His lips almost trembling, as he smiles....and Lili's doing her best to climb up into his lap. Apparently his distress is coming through to her. He weaves fingers into her ruff, as he does.

Patsy Walker has posed:
Her grin begins to fade as she sees how the German Shepherd in her aptly-labeled vest begins to insert herself into her handler's business.

"Yeah, I bet." Her voice goes more neutral as she reels in her enthusiasm by a yard or two, just in case. "I didn't mean any insult by that, not knowing you. It's just...y'know, thought we agreed on how nice privacy is and all last time. You seemed like a private person too." Those light-blue eyes linger, still curious. "You don't have to tell me anything more, it's totally okay. In fact, I kind of owe you something in return. Um."

Her gloved pointer finger, tipped with a claw, twines that fiddle-lock of hair about it. Her eyes fall downcast as she thinks. Looking up, she then shares, "You'd know me too, actually, if you looked hard enough. I'm a public figure and sometimes, I really hate it."

James Barnes has posed:
Now James's expression turns a little sheepish, but the smile firms up. "Uh, honestly, probably not. I'm pretty outta the loop when it comes to public things these days. I, uh, I'm not so good with the internet. But I figured this was....I....I've known a lot of guys who did the costumed hero thing, from the Shadow on down. And in nearly all cases, it wasn't someone ordinary in their normal life, either, y'know? It's not like.....I dunno, a plumber, putting on a suit. People who were famous in their other identities."

He settles back on his heels. "There's always been a downside to celebrity, but these days it seems like it's been magnified a thousand times. Like you're always held up before the mob. I see what it does to Steve....and it makes me glad that most people don't know I'm alive."

Patsy Walker has posed:
There is, unable to be hidden, a faint titter at the idea of a plumber and a super-suit. The urge to hum a certain Italian plumber's theme song is strong for a passing second, but Hellcat reins it in, even if it's reflected in the twinkle of her eyes and echoed gain of grin.

"I mean, in...Steve's defense," she turns her face away a touch without breaking gazes, just a little teasing about the use of the Captain's first name, " -- he's kind of been in the spotlight since my grandmother had a crush on him. You'd know though, yeah, if it bothered him. He seems pretty composed, but...yeah, it's easy to put on a mask after a while." She shrugs. "I'm nobody //super// famous though. Sorry to disappoint you," the Hellcat adds, really not sorry by her smirk. "Not an actress or anything. I'll give you a hint, how about that? We'll see how good you are with the Internet after all. I..." A held breath is marked by that hair-curling finger uplifted. "...am published."

Cue finger-gun.

James Barnes has posed:
The grin broadens. "Yeah, he has been. He learned to deal a long time ago, but....it's a learning curve. It helps a lot that his lady friend is....she knows that stuff. She's a master, and she helps him navigate it, so he can kind of get his message out without stumbling over the way it's done now. He's also a really even-tempered guy."

Now he's petting Lili in long, lazy strokes. "You write? You a journalist? I know a few journalists in fancy costumes."

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Oh no, definitely not a journalist." There are jazz-hands to follow, a little frill of fingers before they end up settled in her lap again. Her own smile grows yet again in unconscious social mirroring. "I do write though, so if you get bored and you hunt hard enough, you might find me." The Hellcat knows how much of her face is covered and, in turn, how difficult it might be to find her author's picture in a book jacket on the Internet. It is the boon of having one website to oneself and the preference for hard-copy publishing.

"It is nice having that back-up though. You mean Janet Van Dyne, right? The fashionista? I gotta tell you, nobody saw that one coming," says the Hellcat with a little laugh.

James Barnes has posed:
A little glint of something in his eyes. For all that he can see what good Janet does Steve....Peggy's alive and well now. There's a part of him rooting for that to revive itself. Buck nods. "Yeah," he says. "I mean, I dunno. Things on that front are different now, so...." He spreads his hands, and Lili delicately reaches over and takes his human hand in her teeth and guides it to her side. Keep on with the petting, minion. "Whaddaya write, then? You gotta gimme a clue."

Patsy Walker has posed:
"No kidding. PR's changed in leaps and bounds since the 1940s, but at the same time, not so much. I still don't envy him," the red-head shares. Barnes then asks his questions and she shrugs again, hands so demurely in her lap and a smile a touch more secretive now on her petal-pink lips.

"We'll call it non-fiction, how about that? It narrows down your search field a little. But okay, okay, alright, maybe a little something more." She does appear to know that she's only cut the parameters in half by the definition of 'non-fiction'. It shows in the coy twist of her grin. "None of my books are online. They're all hard-cover and they're in bookstores here in this city. Think you've got a proper mystery now?"

James Barnes has posed:
He snorts at that, turning the petting into lazy scratching of Lili's ears, which she pins back, letting her tongue peek out between her front teeth. "A'right," James says. "Fair enough. No ebooks, then. That narrows down the field a lot, these days."

Then Buck puts out a hand to the wall of the alley, presses to lever himself up.....and inadvertantly leaves fingerprints *in* the brick. A glance at it, but he doesn't call attention to it. "I gotta get goin'," he says, simply. "Gotta be home before it gets too late." Does he have a curfew? Or just a strong urge to go burrow into his own bed?

Patsy Walker has posed:
Seemingly pleased for the snort, the Hellcat shrugs her shoulders again in agreement. It does indeed. He rises and so does she, unfolding in a svelte extension of legs until she stands again, hands almost primly interlaced before her suit's sash, this the lustrous hue of India ink to match her points and eared cowl.

"I respect a good night's sleep and you definitely earned it." One hand seems to consider escaping its state to offer a handshake, but she changes her mind at the last second and goes for the grin instead. "It was great to see you again, James. I'll look you up," comes the promise.

Followed by what might be a little color at her cheeks, but eh, the alleyway's lighting is funny now that night has truly fallen. " -- since you mentioned standing behind Captain America and all, I want to see this, y'know."

James Barnes has posed:
"My hair was a lot shorter then," he says, simply. "Look up his career in the war. You'll find me. I just....listen, in this day and age, it's very easy for news to spread like ink in a glass of water. So please, *don't* mention to people and don't mention in any way online that you met me. I'm a lot safer if most people think I died in the war." James's tone isn't heated, but his gaze is earnest.

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Oh my god, of course! Scout's honor, I promise." Not only does the young woman hold up the literal hand-sign for the claim, but she makes to then etch an X across her chest -- cross her heart. "We're private people. I'm definitely not going to go blabbing to people! No way in hell."

If she realizes she's made a pun, the Hellcat doesn't make note of it.

"That's, like, the worst possible karma for somebody like me. I promise to not tell a soul, James."

James Barnes has posed:
There's that little smile again. "Thanks," he says, as he bends to clip Lili's leash to her. It has a wrap on it, noting that she's not for petting because she's working. "You have a good night," he wishes her. "Keep an eye out for Travis for me?"

Then, once she's replied, James is heading for the sidewalk, Lili's tail coming up to wave jauntily. They're heading for the park, after all.

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Sure. I'll point him towards your number." She nods towards the wall where Bucky had written his brief message earlier. "We'll see what he does. You have a good night too, James."

The Hellcat watches them leave, handler and dog, and once she's certain both are out of ear-range, claps a gloved hand to her face. A long, drawn-out 'urrrrrrrrrrrrrrrg' ends on a sigh. Curling her fingers in, her teeth dig into a knuckle as she rolls her eyes at herself and then squints off to one side.

Are those...finger holes in the brick? Her cornflower-blue eyes flicker towards the alleyway's entrance. Hmm. Time for some research.