Love and Winter (Bucky Barnes) Hiatus

1 - the first conversation

He had been watching her for the last three weeks now. Not every hour of every day like some kind of psycho stalker but he had been into the pub once or twice a week.

He liked watching her, one time he even sat up at the pub, getting to view her from up close. She smiled a lot, always had a joke in store for the costumer's or a comforting hand when someone was down. Not once had she attempted to keep up a conversation with him, only asked him if she could get him anything. She always offered him a small smile though. That one time he had spent sitting at the pub he had received several of those.

Did people smile a lot?

Or was that just her?

He had watched others smile back at her constantly - most of them seeming genuine but some of them leering at her with gleaming eyes and looking like they were about to eat her alive. Sometimes he tried smiling back, but he was unsure what he looked like.

Was he doing it right? Or did he look like the leering men and women that kept their eyes glued to places they shouldn't be once she turned around.

He frowned. At least he knew how to do that.

"Come on, Pussycat... How about you fetch me another beer?"

His eyes narrowed as he listened to one of the other men talk to her.

"Oh god... I feel pity for the woman that is stupid enough to marry you Constantin, I truly do. Now sit your drunk ass down on the stool and I'll bring you a glass of water."

"You go, Reagan!" One of the other bartenders shouted, high-fiving the brown-haired girl who chuckled back at her.

He found himself biting down a smile as he looked to the now empty glass in-between his glove-clad fingers, knowing he should head back to his run-down apartment soon. The pub - however small - was not the best place to hang out when you were trying to hide from the world.

"Sorry about that, some of the men can get a bit rowdy... Do you want me to fill up your glass? It's on the house."

He looked up in surprise, his blue eyes meeting hers head on.

"It's called heterochromia," she said softly after a while and he realized he had been staring at her eyes for far too long. "Don't feel bad," she grinned; "it freaks most people out."

Moving his gaze down to his empty glass once more he cleared his throat; "they're beautiful."

His voice felt foreign, both because of its raspy tone and because there was a certain Brooklyn twang that he could only remember from distant memories.

"Ah, an American?" She was smiling now, "I could have sworn I heard you talking Romani the other day."

He shrugged his shoulders, unsure of how to reply her.

"Not a big talker, are you?"

Once more he didn't reply.

"That's alright," she offered him a small smile, "i'll just fill your glass and be on my way. Guiness, right?"

"Thank you," he offered her a small smile as she put the glass back down in front of him about 30 seconds later.

"No problem, have a nice night."

"You too... Reagan" he said softly, but he doubted she heard it as she had already turned towards another customer.

* * *

Weeks came and went and he still stayed in the city. He wanted to say it was because Bucaresti seemed like a good place to lay low, but he would be lying if he didn't admit that it had a lot to do with an irish girl called Reagan.