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Sharon's guarded mansion house was not exactly what the team was expecting. They journeyed through her gallery as she told her story of becoming a hustler. She was wealthy, business oriented, and busy. Marcella admired the beautiful, historic artwork as they educated Sam about how it was real and the art in the museums was fake. They followed her into an another room and her assistant brought out some clothes for them, then left.
Bucky took his leather jacket off and sat down on the couch, while Sam and Marcella looked through a rack of clothes. He sat there and sulked about what happened at Selby's until Marcella came over to him carting some clothes. She placed a blazer and dress pants in size closest to his beside him. She liked the leather lapels on the jacket and knew it would look good on him.
"Thank you," he mumbled, looking up at her with big eyes. She nodded and then she moved back to the rack, looking for something she could wear. Sam's eyes were on her and she ignored him.
"Are you okay?" He asked her.
"Who called you?" She side eyed him.
Sam looked back at the clothes. "My sister, Sarah."
Marcella took some black dress pants for herself off the rack, then she found a tight tank top. It was black lace. She pulled it off the rack and grabbed a pair of thick heels from the bottom, hoping they were close to her size.
"Don't bring your phone on a mission like that ever again, Sam." She warned then walked away to change in the bathroom with a coated glass sliding door.
Marcella lifted the dress over head and flung it across the room, she had already kicked off the broken heels in the car and gave them back to Zemo. She leaned against the sink, and looked at herself in the mirror.
Black underwear, gun holster, and flawed skin.
She had always disliked the way her body looked while she did ballet. It sometimes felt like it came with the job. When she was locked up in Siberia her weight fluctuated in way that she couldn't recognize herself in-front of a mirror, if she ever had a mirror. When she was given the serum, it saved her. It gave her the muscles she missed and the pounds she lost. She even grew a few inches. She couldn't hate her body; not when it survived what it did. It didn't look how it used to but after so many years, she changed too. What didn't change was how people looked at her. Being in that bar, with everyone's eyes on her and body like that made her feel like a flashy new toy again. Even the way Sharon looked at her it made her uncomfortable.
She heard the group talking outside the washroom and pulled off her gun holster. Marcella changed into her tank top and as she pulled up her pants she stopped at the tattoo on her hip, the one she let Bucky take a long look at in the car. She wanted to tell him she got it during the Blip and that it reminded her of her tiny bit of peace with him during a time she thought she'd never deserve it. She wanted to tell him it was to remind herself how far she'd come. She wanted to say, "They're the ones you'd sometimes put on my pillow if you left for a walk in the morning before me." Marcella wanted to show him her other tattoo because as much as her body scared her, when he used to look at it, she only felt warmth. She missed him so much.
