Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The city thrummed around them, pulsing with the energy of New York's nightlife. The steady beat of traffic, the distant wail of sirens, and the chatter of crowds melded into a chaotic symphony, the kind that only the city could conjure. Neon signs flickered above, their vibrant hues reflecting off the rain-slicked streets like shattered glass, casting kaleidoscopic colours on the pavement.
Sienna's heels clicked sharply against the sidewalk, her stride purposeful, every step deliberate. Beside her, Bucky walked in near-perfect synchrony, his presence more imposing than usual tonight. His broad frame cut through the crowd effortlessly, and though his expression remained neutral, that tension between them crackled.
Normally, he kept a few steps behind her, shadowing her movements without a word. But tonight, he stayed close—too close, his shoulder brushing hers occasionally as they moved through the throngs of pedestrians. His eyes were sharp, scanning every face, every shadow, with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.
Sienna stole a glance at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. The hard set of his jaw and the lines etched into his brow told her more than his words ever could. He was on edge, and that usually meant something was brewing. "You're unusually quiet tonight," she remarked, her tone deliberately casual, though her curiosity was clear. "Even for you."
Bucky's gaze flickered to hers for a moment, cold blue meeting dark brown, before he turned his focus back to the ever-moving crowd. "Just thinking," he muttered, his voice clipped, as if lost in thought.
She let out a low chuckle, the sound soft but laced with challenge. "Careful, Barnes. Too much thinking might actually hurt."
He responded with a dry laugh, but it lacked warmth, more a reflex than genuine amusement. "Your friends—Maximoff and his sister—they're... interesting company."
The statement caught her off guard, enough for her to slow her pace slightly. "Interesting?" Her voice took on a sharper edge, the lighthearted banter replaced with a hint of defensiveness. "That's one way to put it."
Bucky shrugged, but his eyes never stopped moving, scanning the perimeter with the precision of a man who lived in perpetual vigilance. "Just saying you seem to have a type ."
Sienna's steps faltered, her brow furrowing as she shot him a look. "A type?" She echoed the words back at him with a raised eyebrow, her tone incredulous. "And what type would that be, exactly?"
His lips pressed into a thin line, the muscles in his jaw tightening for just a moment. "Reckless. Unpredictable." He spoke as if it were a simple fact, no emotion behind the words, yet there was something unspoken hovering in the space between them—a weight, an implication she wasn't sure she liked.
She scoffed, shaking her head as she picked up her pace again, her heels clicking a little faster against the pavement. "Look who's talking about reckless and unpredictable," she shot back, her voice tinged with exasperation. "You barely know them."
