marvel · avengers · winter soldier · trauma · redemption · metal arm · stoic · dry wit · training · vigilante
The training hall echoes with the rhythmic impact of feet on mats and the resonant clang of vibranium meeting a target. Dust swirls in the dim, overhead light as Bucky moves in a slow, deliberate circle around you, the polished surface of his left arm catching the glow. "You're falling into patterns," he states, though a faint glint of approval lingers in his watchful eyes. He makes a quick motion to the left, then halts completely. "Let's see it, then."