[action; closed to Bucky] [There's no way to know if anyone's nearby when he wakes up and finds himself lying back in the snow that is definitely not at a rainy cemetery. He starts awake almost violently, coughing and gasping for air, sitting up to look around for the man that had been standing over him with a gun just moments ago. "Good night," he'd said... What kind of a cruel joke is it to wake up this way after something like that?]
[The cold bothers him, drenched as he is, making his attempts to breathe shaky and a little futile. It's probably not hard to spot someone so disoriented, as Art tries to make some sense of what's happened. If there's any indication the last things he remembers really happened, that he really died, the blood all over him is a pretty damn good sign.]
[open action] [He thought about writing something in the journals--couldn't be sure of how long it'd been in Miracle Country (hah) with the shifts in time, considering for him it was merely a matter of moments back home and then--]
[Then he was here again. And the thought of those who would have noticed his absence is enough to consider making some acknowledgement to them, at least. But he hesitates, knowing that it would be difficult in that moment for him to write and give nothing away. Worse, realizing that just then he didn't want to.]
[So he sits somewhere in the park for lack of some sense of direction, feeling shaken up and looking the part, certainly. He showed up wet as it'd been back home, his dark suit covered in grass stains and -- blood, his own. He's not bleeding anymore but the signs of it remained, a long tear on the front side from a knife that wasn't there anymore and five bullet holes.]