InsaneJournal

The auto shop was out. Though Bucky could fix a lot of stuff, the mechanical arm made some things dicey: he might get his arm stuck in the car engine and though he could get it back out, it would likely be at the expense of the engine. And that might not be so good for business. He could likely work at every shop this place had, but the one that seemed the most likely to need someone like him... well, that was Bruce's Best Weapons.

He'd dressed in his jacket, tucking his metal hand into the pocket of his jeans so that it wasn't easily visible to the public. A man with his hand in his pocket wasn't as immediately concerning as a man with a black metal arm. Bucky'd tucked his hat over his head, and then he'd gone out for a walk.

Calming his nerves was never a problem. Bucky had learned to be unblinking in the face of basically any threat, or if not unblinking, at least to keep moving. Keep responding. Keep active in any situation he was in.

Walking into a shop and saying, Employ me!, though...

He took a breath and pushed open the door, walking in to face a ton and a half of weapons. Bows and arrows, knives, guns. So many weapons that Bucky felt immediately at home.

He didn't even mind the fucking giant, lanky man behind the counter. He walked right up to the counter, trying to find words that didn't start with hire me because I'm a better killer than ninety percent of the people here. Technically, he wasn't wrong. But it wasn't the way Bucky wanted to start his employment.

What came out was, "I need to buy a gun."