"Yeah, well, he's too blond," Bucky scoffs, the way idiot friends tend to mock each other for the dumbest things. "The pizza places we visited when we were kids, old familiar parts of downtown that didn't get wrecked - just the usual haunts." Many parts of New York that were there when they were young. At first Steve had hit up the old spots to help Bucky remember the old times, to help him transition back to some semblance of normalcy, even though sometimes it felt like Steve's normal and not his own. Not that he's complaining - Steve's gone above and beyond when it comes to helping him. But the grumpy old men had been living in a bubble of their own too, even when it did involve Steve showing Bucky how to use a modern phone, and even Steve got progressively worn down as people kept trying to burst it, testing his patience.
The sheer amount of tacos doesn't seem to faze Bucky too much - apart from the fact that he doesn't know where to start, and he can't see which one's the cactus. He's probably even looking forward to cake afterwards. It seems to make sense to start chipping away at their order from the tacos closest to him though, so he pops the hat on to free his hands and tugs the closest little basket of tacos towards himself. There's no elegant way to eat tacos unless you're the lady sitting across from him, so he's just going to tilt his head a bit and take a bite without dropping the hat.
"See. I'm wearing the hat." Does he look stupid? He probably looks stupid, but. One could argue that's not too different from what he normally looks like.
Her mouth tics to the side like she's trying not to laugh when he describes Steve as 'too blond.' That kind of teasing humor has a familiar pattern to it. It's no wonder that the three of them don't hang out often. Even though she's pretty sure that Steve kind of likes being roasted, she's not quite as sure that he'd enjoy it coming from two angles at the same time. "That makes sense. I know there's some statues and plaques kicking around those parts of the city." There's one particular statue of Captain America that Natasha loves, tucked away in some little park in Brooklyn. It looks nothing like him and locals keep putting funny hats on it. She's pretty sure it's the only one that doesn't make Steve turn purple with embarrassment when he sees it. Again: the roasting.
Her mouth widens into a grin when she sees him put the hat on, but she lifts a taco and takes a large bite before answering. It effectively shatters any notion he might have about elegantly eating tacos: there's no grace to it. She picks a piece of shredded lettuce off her lower lip and wipes it off on a napkin, seemingly unconcerned by the utter lack of dignity involved in that bite. "It looks good on you. You should consider adding it as an accessory for your tac gear." After all, nothing says 'stealth' like 'festooned birthday hat.'
"Tch, yeah. It might give people something glittery to aim at." Would he wear something ridiculous to a mission? Probably only if it involved infiltrating some kind of themed party and finding a quiet moment alone to shank his target in the toilet, but who's he kidding? The Soldier would have agreed to anything no matter how ludicrous the demand might be.
The taco he did end up eating has some kind of seafood with eggplant relish, which he's enjoying enough to have some relish get on his right hand, but he can't see anything like cactus in there - well he's not expecting a green prickly thing, it's probably skinned and cooked, nor does he know what it would taste like, but he imagines it's still visually distinct enough to be recognisable - so he's just sampling the goods and working his way across the table in a somewhat methodical fashion.
"Hnh - you've got some-- sauce-- yeah," he gestures at the corner of his own lips mirrored from hers, unable to hide the small chuckle she elicits from him. He doesn't have that many friends to begin with, so he can appreciate that there are no formalities or pretences between them and they can just-- talk frankly and be messy around each other.
"You should try this one. It's some... blackened fish with eggplant thing," he offers his basket over. Yes, the Wilsons are training him on cajun cuisine, so he's familiar with those kinds of flavours. Skipping over the one that looks like ground beef purely because he knows it won't be the cactus, he moves onto one basket with fillings he doesn't recognise next.
"So what do you do on your own birthdays? Especially when you don't have to humour grumpy old centenarians?" They're not much of a big deal to him, all the more so when he's missed so many by now. But maybe she does something special for herself. Or maybe Barton's enough of a gentleman to make her have a slightly different day from all the others?
When he gestures to show her where she got the sauce, she uses the pad of her thumb to wipe it off and then licks it off her thumb. Waste not. "Thanks," she says as she takes another bite - of a more reasonable size. Not that it deters her from leaning in with interest when he describes the one that he just bit, and she sets the one she's been working on down to claim one from his basket. "Wouldn't have figured you for a blackened fish guy," she comments as she tries a bite of it, then nods her head as she swallows. "Though I can see why. That's good."
She considers his question about birthdays, taking a sip from her drink to buy herself a moment to think, her eyes skimming his face. It's not that she dislikes her birthday so much as she tries to avoid anyone making a big deal out of it. "Maybe I like humoring grumpy old centenarians. I think after you regularly allow more than one in your life you have to consider the possibility," she points out with a smile. One shoulder lifts in a shrug before she continues. "It depends on the year. Usually a nice dinner. Or I'll wrangle people to do something fun like paintball without telling them why. What are you thinking about doing for your next birthday?"
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sorry I've had a crazy month
The sheer amount of tacos doesn't seem to faze Bucky too much - apart from the fact that he doesn't know where to start, and he can't see which one's the cactus. He's probably even looking forward to cake afterwards. It seems to make sense to start chipping away at their order from the tacos closest to him though, so he pops the hat on to free his hands and tugs the closest little basket of tacos towards himself. There's no elegant way to eat tacos unless you're the lady sitting across from him, so he's just going to tilt his head a bit and take a bite without dropping the hat.
"See. I'm wearing the hat." Does he look stupid? He probably looks stupid, but. One could argue that's not too different from what he normally looks like.
no worries! i've totally been there
Her mouth widens into a grin when she sees him put the hat on, but she lifts a taco and takes a large bite before answering. It effectively shatters any notion he might have about elegantly eating tacos: there's no grace to it. She picks a piece of shredded lettuce off her lower lip and wipes it off on a napkin, seemingly unconcerned by the utter lack of dignity involved in that bite. "It looks good on you. You should consider adding it as an accessory for your tac gear." After all, nothing says 'stealth' like 'festooned birthday hat.'
no subject
The taco he did end up eating has some kind of seafood with eggplant relish, which he's enjoying enough to have some relish get on his right hand, but he can't see anything like cactus in there - well he's not expecting a green prickly thing, it's probably skinned and cooked, nor does he know what it would taste like, but he imagines it's still visually distinct enough to be recognisable - so he's just sampling the goods and working his way across the table in a somewhat methodical fashion.
"Hnh - you've got some-- sauce-- yeah," he gestures at the corner of his own lips mirrored from hers, unable to hide the small chuckle she elicits from him. He doesn't have that many friends to begin with, so he can appreciate that there are no formalities or pretences between them and they can just-- talk frankly and be messy around each other.
"You should try this one. It's some... blackened fish with eggplant thing," he offers his basket over. Yes, the Wilsons are training him on cajun cuisine, so he's familiar with those kinds of flavours. Skipping over the one that looks like ground beef purely because he knows it won't be the cactus, he moves onto one basket with fillings he doesn't recognise next.
"So what do you do on your own birthdays? Especially when you don't have to humour grumpy old centenarians?" They're not much of a big deal to him, all the more so when he's missed so many by now. But maybe she does something special for herself. Or maybe Barton's enough of a gentleman to make her have a slightly different day from all the others?
no subject
She considers his question about birthdays, taking a sip from her drink to buy herself a moment to think, her eyes skimming his face. It's not that she dislikes her birthday so much as she tries to avoid anyone making a big deal out of it. "Maybe I like humoring grumpy old centenarians. I think after you regularly allow more than one in your life you have to consider the possibility," she points out with a smile. One shoulder lifts in a shrug before she continues. "It depends on the year. Usually a nice dinner. Or I'll wrangle people to do something fun like paintball without telling them why. What are you thinking about doing for your next birthday?"