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It is intensely weird to step back through the door into the bright Wakandan afternoon, but the denizens of the strange-as-hell Bar at the End of the Universe were right: no time has passed at all.
She wishes it had. This just makes it seem even more impossible, a dream she can't begin to explain.
Bucky's had coffee and she's had wine and both of them are full of Sunshine's cinnamon rolls, which is all good except for how her go-to busywork of making coffee to give herself a second to think is even more unnecessary than usual. She goes into the hut to grab the wool throws instead, taking them over to the shade tree as her mind whirls.
There's a lot to take in. And a lot to think about.
"So," she says, once she's sat down. She loops her arms around her knees and studies him.
"That was interesting."
She wishes it had. This just makes it seem even more impossible, a dream she can't begin to explain.
Bucky's had coffee and she's had wine and both of them are full of Sunshine's cinnamon rolls, which is all good except for how her go-to busywork of making coffee to give herself a second to think is even more unnecessary than usual. She goes into the hut to grab the wool throws instead, taking them over to the shade tree as her mind whirls.
There's a lot to take in. And a lot to think about.
"So," she says, once she's sat down. She loops her arms around her knees and studies him.
"That was interesting."
