Cool blue eyes track the movement as the former Winter Soldier shuffles aside, even as Leonard is entirely still himself. When the intent becomes clear, his eyes slide shut and he chuffs a small laugh before sliding into the opened space, half turned towards Barnes with his back braced against the doorframe. "Don't expect any sentiment from me." he says and braces one arm on his angled knee, letting his own glass dangle from long fingers. "Or advice. Sara said enough already." two fingers swirl the air between them. "No changing the timeline and all that."
Bucky chuffs quietly and shakes his head. "Not lookin' for sentiment, pal. Already get too much of that thrown my way as it is without havin' to seek it out."
Steve meant well, but Christ Almighty, could the man hover. Especially right now.
He sniffed, one side of his face twitching up in a brief half-grimace, and nodded.
He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it. About changing it all. All those lives he had snuffed out, everyone he had hurt, everything he had taken from the world... it could all be undone. It could all be set right.
(Memories of his own suffering, his own torture and abuse, seemed secondary to that. He bore them silently and alone, like penance. Sometimes they made him curl up into a fetal position on the floor in the far corner of his room and shake, falling so deeply into himself that he forgot his own name again, but he would never tell anyone that. He would never show anyone that.)
Only changing the timeline wouldn't be right, he had learned. Reality would be damaged, warped, broken-- maybe irreparably. That couldn't happen.
He had argued with Steve for two hours about it tonight. Super-soldier-sized stubbornness. Sentiment. Damn him.
He took another sip of the whiskey. "I get it. We get in, fix what's wrong, get out. Timeline preserved." A muscle in his jaw worked for a few seconds. "Steve needs to sit this one out. Stay on the ship. It'd be best for everyone if he does that."
