Bucky ran a hand through his hair. "I swiped some from the common room. I don't... really like a lot of pillows anymore. Doesn't feel right." Too many years of sleeping rough had made regular beds unsettlingly soft. But the mattress and the couch cushions seemed like they would suffice.
The compliment made him smile, and he looked up at Steve, feeling warmed. When he'd first begun to realize he knew the blonde man, it had been frightening. How long he'd been told, ordered that he was nothing but a weapon, a hollow shell. To have something, someone that felt so familiar was unnerving. But as he'd searched, researched, and those memories began to trickle back, the warmth of their connection, their friendship, had sustained him.
His feet were bare, soft black microfleece sweats on his legs, and a sleeveless top of dark red that hid the traces of scarring where the vibranium arm joined his body, if not the arm itself. "Well, the world's gonna have to take a miss. You think I use these sultry tones for just anyone?" He smirked, but his gaze dropped to the book at his side. "Well, I did read to Jo the other night, but she has a bad habit of drinking herself to blackouts to keep the nightmares away. Needed to give her a break."