Who: Scott and Bucky What: Catching up with non-tainted food Where: Scott's apartment When: The day after this
There was a certain amount of sleeplessness that came along with being the last man standing in a glorified slaughter. Historically, Scott had had trouble getting to sleep, tangling himself in his sheets as his brain refused to shut off, replaying the last moments of the tribute from Two as she clutched at her bleeding throat or the sight of that boy from Five, milky-eyed and half digested by that giant snake. After Cassie started walking, though, the amount of things keeping him awake at night grew exponentially. He'd worried about typical things, at first: whether they'd enrolled her in school too early, if that rash was grounds for a doctor's visit. But then she'd started talking, started becoming this little person, and his fears had turned to the future. He still thought of the boy and the snake and the tribute from Two, but it became Cassie having to witness them, having to claw her way tooth and nail out of that arena because her name had been called.
Their move to the Capitol had eased some of his uncertainty where Cassie was concerned, but he'd traded unwelcome thoughts for the sounds of the city keeping him awake. Twelve was quiet, even at its peak hours, and adjusting to the near-constant noise of the Capitol had been difficult. It had taken time, but the further he got from being new to city life - and the further he got from that arena - the easier it was to sleep. Not well. Hell, six years on, and sometimes he still had to fight not to notice the constant hum of activity outside. Sometimes he still had to deal with his brain pulling up those awful memories as he was drifting off. But it wasn't every night anymore. He'd gotten used to being able to sleep on a quasi-regular basis.
Which was why last night had hit him particularly hard. There wasn't anything he could do with the news that Cassie was being guided into an internship for (and possibly a career in) Gamemaking, but it had kept him up all the same. Loki had said she was good at it. And that was the most troublesome thing, wasn't it? Her tenure at the boarding school had always come with the small reassurance that, so long as Scott toed the line, she'd be safe from the arena. Assimilation hadn't even been an afterthought, because he'd always been much more concerned about keeping her alive and out of the Games. But now there was a possibility that she'd be involved anyway - and somehow it felt worse that she'd be helping to orchestrate the murder of twenty-three children behind the scenes rather than on the front lines.
That thought had niggled at him for a while, even after the sun had started to peek through his blinds. What kind of father thought subjecting their child to the Hunger Games was the lesser of two evils? A desperate one, probably. Someone who had, until the arena opening, thought that his kid was safe in the Capitol. But Cassie wasn't his kid anymore, not really, and by the time he'd made himself a pot of strong coffee and splashed some water on his face, he realized that just wouldn't do anymore. Something had to change.
Steve and those files burning a hole in his safe - that was probably a good start.
In the wake of that revelation, the last thing he felt like was company. Most of him was itching to start solving this problem with Cassie, and the parts that weren't were exhausted. But cancelling on Barnes now would be more suspect than letting him see the signs of a sleepless night written all over his face, so he didn't bother to try. He just.. wouldn't let anything slip. "Hey," he greeted, upon opening the door for his friend, and stepped aside to let him through. Scott managed to look mildly affronted at the lack of fancy dress. "Where's the ball gown?"