Rosalie Kasten is out of luck and out of time. For the last two years, she's been living on borrowed time. After her involvement with the death of Edwin Pierce - Alexander Pierce's son - it's only a matter of time before Hydra comes for her.
James...
𝚩𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝛐𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 best to seem interested in what Mr Smith is saying about the latest technology regarding security measures, but he knows most of it already. He can't stop his eyes from looking through the crowd, searching for his Rose. He's nursing a new drink, and he laughs at the right time as Mr Smith cracks another crude joke.
Bucky keeps touching his face to try and feel that goo-cloth, but there's nothing. He doesn't understand how it works. He passed right by Rumlow, who didn't bat an eye at his appearance, while Bucky could barely stop himself from launching at the guy. People who don't know him usually take a second look at him, be it because of his size, the tattoos littered on his body, or his metal arm. There's always something, but no one is doing that tonight. No one recognises him or the Winter Soldier.
Finally, Bucky sees her. She's standing close to Bakuto in the room with grand sculptures, giggling at whatever bullshit he's spouting, while she sips on a new drink. Her cheeks have a rosy tint, and he wonders if it's intentional or not. Bucky feels the anger bubbling inside him, directing his hatred towards Bakuto is better than at Rumlow. But it's hard.
The innate hate he has for Rumlow is boiling. Seeing him, although he's keeping a distance, is making everything flare up. It's taking everything for Bucky to not let his fist sink into the face of the bastard who tortured him all those years. The fuck who found every single second so disgustingly enjoyable.
Rose's eyes glance around the room, and he can see she lets out a breath when she spots him. Bucky smiles and tries to calm himself. If he can't do it for himself, then he can do it for her. He turns his focus back to Mr Smith.
"So, what was that recent room you worked on? I've been wanting somethin' similar for the wife's jewellery."
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Rosalie's heart being in her throat doesn't even begin to describe how she feels. Every single atom in her body is fighting for control. The walls are closing in around her while she claws at them to try and make room for herself, to stay in power.
Rumlow is close to them, on her right side. There's more distance than between her and Bakuto, but not much. She's so fucking scared he'll recognise her in some way. Rumlow is watching her, tilting his head to the side, and she sends him a sickly-sweet smile. Calm. Just fucking act calm. Rosalie sips her drink and puts one hand on her elbow, tilting her head as she admires a sculpture of a man.
