strangetrip | [GP/EP] Check-in Day

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[GP/EP] Check-in Day

The woodwinds in her collection were for noodling mostly, and the violin was for memory of her family, but when Curnen really wanted to play she turned again and again to her guitar. This would probably always be her best instrument. It was the first of the month, she’d been here over a year, and it was probably a check-in day. So she sat on the lawn with her instrument in her lap, sending out a subtle magic to call anyone stranded in their little world this way.

At one point, though, she set aside the guitar and turned her face to the sky. For just a few minutes she required a different kind of magic.

It had been a week now since Scanlan had vanished in the battle. And Pike, too, though Curnen honestly couldn’t have cared less about her going away if she tried. Still. The two of them were family to people very dear to her, people who missed them. And Scanlan had been her friend. You marked something like that with a song.

Of all the money that e'er I had
I spent it in good company
And all the harm that e'er I've done
Alas, it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit
To memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

It was a traditional Irish goodbye, a farewell to friends said with love, drinking, well wishes, and the hope of meeting again. She couldn’t think of a better one for the occasion. And as she sang she twined her magic into her voice in a new way, sending the song to any ears that needed it, ears of those who knew and missed the departed. Not all of them might understand it, not all of them knew what she was, but she didn’t particularly care about that right now. The song was more important than the hiding.

Once the last note had dissipated she picked up her guitar again and resumed her work. If there were anybody out there, they had to know where to go.

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"I can indeed." As a rule, Loki stuck to Midgardian clothing most of the time in the Inn; the only thing Asgardian attire would do was remind people that he wasn't one of them. There were occasions when that was best, but they hadn't occurred yet. "It's the same building I'm in, so I know it better than the others."

Loki turned and started to walk, casually putting his back to the metal-armed man and beckoning an easy follow-me. A trusting sort of gesture, which would help sell him as something like harmless while also putting himself at virtually no real risk. Win-win. "What happened to the mirror?"

The soldier followed him, quietly taking in his stride and the way he carried himself. More importantly, which side he favored, should he have to attack the man. Did he have a specific stride or was there tension in his shoulders. Things a good asset would know. "Same building." So, they were neighbors.

Bucky took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Saw someone from my past. And, well, my future," he said with a frown. "I wronged him, in a way. Complicated. He didn't take my arrival here very well." It really was better that he hit the mirror and not Bucky. In truth, he deserved much worse. "Can't really blame him."

Thanks to centuries of training and experience, Loki was genuinely ambidextrous, not favoring one side or the other. Thanks to being both confident and a good liar, he had no obvious tension. "I'm on the fourth floor, you're on the second." Not exactly neighbors, but good enough.

Someone from his past, good: he'd be looking for allies. Clear piles of guilt, less good: self-destruction was very inviting at times like that. "There are a few people here like that for me." Past and future. Mostly just Stark, at present, though there was some evidence that including Illyana on that list was a good idea. "So he broke the mirror, did he? Better that than you, I'd say." Though Loki more than suspected that it wouldn't have gone very well for the mirror-smasher. Piles of guilt or not, there were instincts there.

Bucky was quiet, listening to the man and trying to deduce if he was being honest or not. If he was, then perhaps they had something in common. "Did you have to meet them on your first day," he asked. A little warning would have been nice for him. "He did. I... I would have deserved it." Not that he had any strong desire to elaborate on why. "He'll survive." He was, after all, strong and he had the iron gauntlet with him.

Bucky could still see it, aimed at him and ready to fire.

As the two men made their way to the american home room, Bucky thought about everything. Steve. Tony. He could have done so much worse to Tony, but he had not wanted to. He didn't want to be that person anymore.

“Not on my first day, no. Shortly afterward, but as I mentioned I was a kitten at the time. He didn’t realize until later.” And ‘later’ had involved Thor, the one topic Loki could be almost sure he and Stark agreed on. “But it’s true, we all survive what doesn’t kill us outright.” It was only a question of how.

The room, when they arrived, was actually fairly nice. Reds and yellows, a fireplace. Two beds. “Ah, you’ll have a ghost. Don’t mind it, I’m told they’re generally harmless.” Loki had two ghosts, but he’d made a habit of banishing them whenever they popped back.

"A kitten. Riiiight." Bucky nodded his head. "Sometimes it might not be better that you survive." Sometimes, he thought to himself, it would be better if the other man won.

Stepping inside, Bucky unclipped his pack and shrugged it off his shoulders, setting it on one of the bed. The hat came next, reaching up to run a hand through his already messy hair, trying to eliminate some of the hat head that he was sure he had.

"Ghosts." Bucky turned and glanced around the room. "Huh. Will I know them?"

Loki raised an eyebrow, then turned into the black kitten and bounced to the other bed, where he turned back into himself sitting cross-legged and comfortable. (Again, assume the invitation, it was better than waiting.) Best to be clear that his lies were generally better than that. And it was better than openly acknowledging the truth of sometimes it might not be better to survive.

He believed that. Some days, still, he even believed it about himself. And it was hard to argue with the idea that the universe would have been better off had Odin just let the frost giant run die in that temple as he'd been left to do.

Ah well. If he was dead, he couldn't watch a one-armed man reorder his hair, could he? "I don't know, I haven't let mine get a word in before banishing them. I'm not really interested in anything the dead might have to say to me."

Bucky jumped back, blinking as he stared at the kitten with wide eyes. He watched as Loki moved over to the other bed, then suddenly turned himself back into a human again. His mouth dropped open and he didn't even try to hide his stare. Yes, he was staring. With everything that he knew HYDRA could do, everything he knew about Red Skull, he still couldn't believe that magic was possible.

He did now.

"Too many dead in my wake," he muttered. Bucky moved over to the other bed and sat down. It was only then that he really took in the color scheme of the room. The red. The white. The blue. His eyes rolled and he looked over at Loki. "Will they let me re-decorate?" Not that he minded too much. It almost felt like Steve was there with him in the colors of the room. "I think they gave this room to the wrong soldier."

Red, white, blue, and a soldier. The only one who fit that description that Loki knew of was Captain Rogers. (The few seconds he'd spent annoying Thor by playacting the Captain were still treasured hilarity to him.) There was nothing to say that they were from the same universe, he and metal-arm, but if they were?

They had at least one common frame of reference. Good to know. "Sadly, no. Not in any permanent way."

Bucky shook his head, knowing the new person beside him would not get the reference. He frowned, turning to look over at him. Had he even given the man his name? Or got his? He wasn't exactly sure. His good hand reached up to scratch at his head as he tried to remember. "Just too, eh, much? In here..."

Bucky shrugged his shoulders and looked over at Loki. He didn't know his name, but he was struggling not to call him cat man in his head. Or kitten man. Some sort of superhero moniker. "How long have you been here, then?"

That wretched clinic and the hours per day three-quarters pretending to be some kind of healer were obviously doing something to him, because Loki’s instinct was to offer to help. Minds, he could handle. If he could twist them to his purpose, exploit fault lines until they cracked, he could surely smooth choppy mental waves or blunt sharp edges. Much closer to his actual expertise than the messy physical.

But he kept his mouth shut. Let me play with your brain was not initial-conversation appropriate. And the other man’s outright fear and anxiety seemed to be ebbing, ratcheted down to a simpler aura of wariness and uncertainty.

With some sparks of curiosity evident now. Good. Loki smiled. “A month now. Apparently long enough to forget my manners.” Not forgotten, just ignored when they weren’t useful. He offered a hand to shake, seemingly-thoughtlessly offering the hand that would ‘match’ with the metal. Either it would work out, the man thinking that to Loki the metal was inconsequential, or it would not. Interesting either way. “I’m Loki.”

Bucky sighed. Slowly, he rose to his feet and paced around the room, taking it all in. The colors. The two beds. It was as if the hotel was mocking him that Steve wasn't there beside him. He really hated it. He knew he couldn't lose his composure, especially after what happened with Stark, but he really hated it all the same.

The man there with him was one that he didn't know, wasn't even sure he could trust, but it was better than being alone. Wasn't it? He'd been on his own for so long that he wasn't sure he knew how to deal with anything else.

Looking over to Loki, he nodded his head slowly. "I... I have them, but they're a bit rusty," he said with an awkward smile. He watched as Loki lifted his hand to shake. Bucky did hesitate, before reaching his metal hand out and shaking Loki's. He made sure to keep his grip gentle and not squeeze too tightly, not wanting to hurt the man in front of him. Metal or not, it was better than being one handed. Bucky really didn't care too much anymore, long since passed the point of missing his own arm.

"I..." He paused. "I'm James Barnes. People call me Bucky. It's a nickname."

He had a good smile, even if it really didn’t look at home on his face, and the only feeling about the arm was... concern? Ah, worry about hurting him. If Loki hadn’t already been sure his new friend (so to speak) had no idea who he was, that would have clinched it.

For the moment, Loki marked but ignored the new rise of tension. It wasn’t an immediate concern yet. “Which do you prefer?” ‘Bucky’ sounded like a small animal prone to chewing things, but there probably were worse names.

"I... I'm fine with Bucky. Really only he, er... Only one person really ever called me it. In the army, they did call me James." At least until Steve had showed up. He told the guys about his nickname. some had used it. Most had not. Either way, it was just a moniker. Hey you would also work just as well with him.

If Loki was reading Bucky or trying to see into his mind, Bucky wouldn't notice. There were feelings of trepidation in regards to the new person in his room. And fear. There also was love. He would never admit it outright, but he was glad that Steve wasn't here, trapped in this situation like he was. It wasn't fair to the soldier.

Nobody deserved the private hell Bucky would have to go through here or in his mind.

Only an idiot would have trusted Loki, even if you didn't know who he was. Without the rest of it - and he was entirely willing to admit that there was a lot of rest of it - he was still a random person who turned into cats and invited himself into the personal space of a stranger who was already rattled. Nothing about that exactly bred trust.

Fortunately, it didn't seem to be breeding specific mistrust either, and that was good enough. "Until and unless you find a preference, I'll stick with Bucky." If nothing else, the fact that it was the first one mentioned might indicate a less-than-conscious preference.

Loki uncurled his legs and hopped off the bed. "Your room and a drink was our deal, I believe, but not here. Come with me?"

It wasn't so much trust for Bucky. To him, it was more apprehension that was slowly dissipating the more he had conversations with Loki. Nobody would ever have his full trust, not even Steve Rogers, not after everything. It would take time to build up a report. And in Bucky's case, that would be a long, long time.

Still, the man had been kind, helped him. Not tried to shoot him into the wall. Really though, all things considered, Loki didn't seem too bad. And he turned into a cat. Who wouldn't want that in their life?

"A drink. Yes." Bucky nodded his head. "You did, uh... Back downstairs, I guess?"

"Upstairs, I think." Loki looked the man up and down speculatively, then nodded slightly. He wasn't usually in the habit of inviting other people into his space. Thor was always an exception, because keeping him out was impossible, and Stark had turned up once, but beyond that he'd taken a number of steps to ensure privacy.

A little time away from people and in a space that was not, in itself, stressful, might actually help Bucky. If nothing else, he'd find it easier to keep watch when there was no chance of having to be on guard against anyone but a god of mischief.

Not actually that reassuring, was it? Oh well! "My room has roof access via a balcony. Plenty of escape options, doesn't look like this," brief gesture around at the red, white, and blue, "and I believe I still have some liquor left over from my brother's last visit."

"Up..." Bucky blinked, realizing just what was happening here. He wasn't really sure he wanted to go see the other man's room, but he also wasn't sure he was ready to go back downstairs either. At least up here, in the private, he knew he wouldn't run into Tony again? Really, he wouldn't have blamed Tony for running to the bar after their encounter.

Balcony? His eyes widened when Loki mentioned escape options. "Huh, okay." Perhaps he had more in common with the man than he had originally assumed. There was a slight smile, a crook of the lips and a glimmer of something that almost reached his eyes as he nodded in acquiescence. Bucky moved over to the door and opened it, stepping through and waiting for Loki to lead him up to the fourth floor.

"So," he murmured. "You, uh... You have a brother?" At least the man had family here and he wasn't alone. Some might have preferred that. Bucky still wasn't sure how he'd feel if Steve showed up here. Rogers was the closest thing he had to family. Even his faulty memory had told him that in not so many images.

"Thor," Loki confirmed, hiding the satisfaction of successful and well-judged temptation as he slipped out of the room and headed for the stairs. It had been the escape options that did it, as he'd half-suspected. They were among his favorite things about his room, after the space and the inoffensive décor. "I'm sure you'll meet him. You'll most likely like him. Everyone does."

"Thor." The name meant nothing to Bucky, not really. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to know it, but it set off no alarm bells with him. There was no name recognition and no flash of face in his mind. A small shrug of his shoulders and he followed Loki up the stairs.

Of course, Loki had been correct. Bucky really was following just like Loki would like him to, without even realizing he was doing it. "Huh. Sounds like my friend, Steve." He tried to smile, but there was something sad in his eyes as he spoke. "Are you glad to have someone from your home here with you, at least?"

"It varies from moment to moment. Mostly yes, but sometimes I'm glad I have knives." That was perhaps slightly more honest than he generally wanted to be with other people, but Loki decided to stand by it. It was nothing more than Thor himself recognized as true. "He's not the only one from my world here, there are at least two others." One he'd met and one he hadn't yet.

And Steve, was it? Red, white, and blue. A soldier. He'd been suspicious, but this might be proof. "Or at least three, if your Steve's last name is Rogers. What a coincidence." It actually was, but it didn't hurt to sound like he did these things on purpose.

Bucky laughed, a small chuckle coming out, the first honest and real one he'd had in quite a while. He couldn't help but smile, imagining Loki flinging knives at this imaginary brother of his. If that didn't define sibling rivalry, he didn't know what would. Most siblings do fight, but with knives?

His smile faded when Loki kept talking. "Wait, what?" He swallowed, his good hand reaching out to press palm side against the wall. Three others were from his world. And Steve was one of them. Did that mean he was from Loki's world too? He froze staring at Loki in shock. Steve was here? "Uh... Huh. Um," he stammered. "Yes, that... That's his name."

The laugh was a win. If someone like Bucky was comfortable enough to laugh, it represented progress. Or it meant he'd decided Loki was funny, which was an entirely different kind of win. People often forgot that 'funny' didn't mean 'not dangerous'.

At the slight noise and halted footsteps of the other man, Loki stopped and turned. He spared a glance for the hand on the wall, but otherwise didn't remark on it directly. If this was new information, good: better than being taken by surprise. "I haven't had a lot of direct contact with Captain Rogers myself, and unless he arrived at the same time you did, he's not one of them. There's my brother and a fellow by the name of Tony Stark. Or Iron Man, if you're willing to indulge him. And you for three. Again, allowing certain assumptions to stand as true."

For Bucky, it was a small combination of them both. Loki had amused him. And while he wasn't sure that he was comfortable with the man beside him, it had been a start.

Until he said Steve's name.

"Four," he said softly. "I... I met a kid. He... He knew me. From the future, I think." His words were broken, stilted almost as he struggled to find the right words. "Fought me. Fought Steve. Fought for Tony..." Bucky shook his head slightly. Reluctantly, he lowered his hand from the wall and resumed moving forward with Loki. "He's here too. From... Our world, I guess." Even if Loki didn't know the kid, the kid had known him.

"Said there was a video... Of us fighting." He frowned. He still wasn't sure he wanted to see it. "I... I don't remember anything he said. From the future..." He glanced up at Loki. He really didn't know if he wanted to run into Steve or not. "Let... Let's go get that drink."

"Four," Loki agreed pacifically, making a mental note to keep an eye out for this 'kid'. Not that it was a problem, but because he was curious. Anyone from the future might accidentally provide details that Thor wasn't inclined to talk about. Loki didn't need to know yet, but more information was never a bad thing.

"And yes, let's." He continued leading the way up to the fourth floor, where there weren't many rooms - the comparative isolation of the Sky Room was another bright spot, in Loki's view - and into the Sky Room itself.

The exit to the balcony, with the roof overhanging slightly, was obvious; he didn't bother to point it out. Instead he beelined for the little wall-nook by the bed to retrieve two small glasses and a bottle. Whiskey, probably. It likely didn't matter much. "Feel free to explore or what-have-you. I personally find the roof most calming."

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