Fergus Finlay was the boy who would be seen causing trouble around Midtown High, walking around with his pack of cards and wit to save him from trouble. However, he was in for a rude wake-up call; history was awakening, and it had set its eyes on Fe...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
If Fergus was an animal, he would definitely wish to be a chameleon. It was unnerving to be in this plain room and be stared at by Captain America personally.
It took every ounce of his self-control not to break down like a wailing baby and beg the man to leave. Even though he knew Captain America was the epitome of everything good that was in this dying world, he couldn't help but be haunted by the phantom smells of smoke and stains of crimson on his hands.
It wasn't real and he knew it, it was the nightmare his mind forced him to keep re-living. He didn't know if it was ever going to go away, but he had a feeling it wasn't. And it had already changed his life drastically. Instead of breaking down, he kept his emotionless gaze upon the tall, muscular man who was still waiting for an answer. Fergus knew that merely a month ago he would have been shaking in his pants, succumbed himself into a panic attack. But things had changed, he has changed. He could feel it.
Bloody hell, he turned into a wolf and couldn't recall a thing.
He gulped down a ball of nerves, hurt and anger and licked his dry lips. "I don't know what to say, uhm, Mister America?" he answered slowly as if every word he was about to say was going to be used against him. He couldn't play around with Steve as he had with Ralph, so he was definitely going to be more cautious around the man. Steve inched close to the table, stopping when he realized Fergus was moving too, trying to cross his arms, only to halt at the painful dug into his wrists. His green eyes flickered down at the restraints that prevented him from crossing his arms. A sign of trying to protect himself or feeling uneasy. Steve stilled. "Just call me Steve, would it be easier if I asked the question?" his voice wasn't loud or too quiet, it was smooth without the rough edges that Mr Lennon had. But Steve's voice held a sort of tone that wasn't demanding for respect, it seemed to come naturally. As if he was born to lead people no matter the circumstance.
And something about Steve's steady stance and calculating look was actually more comforting than Fergus would have guessed. Steve knew what was going on, what would happen, the coincidences etcetera. "Go for it, old champ." he threw the teasing nickname in more for his own racing heart rather than Steve's. Fergus needed to feel some sort of security again, and teasing was the way to go. The surprise that washed over the other man's features was enough for Fergus to relax his shoulders slightly. He liked to catch people off guard, whether it was with making their belongings disappear or making a sarcastic remark out of the blue. "How have they been treating you here?" that was not the question he was expecting, but he supposed Steve was somewhat trying to be a therapist.
Not that Fergus needed therapy, he was fine. Totally okay, right?
"Oh pretty fine, I got my own room, bathroom and mattress and everything. Even though they do lack fashion sense or maybe every other colour but white was gone from the stores... I don't really know. Oh, and apparently someone beat me up. Look, Steve, we both know it's not ideal from my point of view so I don't know, don't... don't ask what you already know." the blond man nodded, blue eyes looking at the restraints briefly. "The attack on the tower. What do you know about it? Also, I'm sorry about hitting you with my shield." Fergus gave a small nod, not feeling mad even for a second.
