Palace life even as a guest was certainly something to get used to, it's a lot more lavish than what he used to staying in. Even though he knows he shouldn't overstay his welcome. Bucky couldn't be grateful for T'Challa for letting him stay and for fashioning him a new arm, it's lighter than his old one which is a nice change of pace when it comes to training with it to get used to the way it functions.
He's siting on the large king sized bed, journals sprawled in front of him as he tries to work through the fragmented memories he's collected on the pages. As the government gave in on sending over his backpack, seeing as they had no intentions for it or it's contents. Today was a conference to be held over what was to be done with him, spending the rest of his years in some god forsaken prison cell or something less than that. Hopeful it's the latter.
Bucky taps his pen on one of the journals as he picks up one of the files of information that he requested about himself, perking up at the knock on his door. Wondering if it was T'Challa bringing him any good news from the conference or an arm escort to take him away. He shifts towards the edge of the bed, placing down his pen as a place marker before making his way over to the door. Opening it with a curious sort of look that was followed by a smile as he opened the door wide enough for T'Challa to walk in.
"Your Highness, any... good news?" He asks, bowing his head a little.
[sorry this is so late, it's been a rough week plus all my free time's being eaten up by dishonored 2]
no subject
He's siting on the large king sized bed, journals sprawled in front of him as he tries to work through the fragmented memories he's collected on the pages. As the government gave in on sending over his backpack, seeing as they had no intentions for it or it's contents. Today was a conference to be held over what was to be done with him, spending the rest of his years in some god forsaken prison cell or something less than that. Hopeful it's the latter.
Bucky taps his pen on one of the journals as he picks up one of the files of information that he requested about himself, perking up at the knock on his door. Wondering if it was T'Challa bringing him any good news from the conference or an arm escort to take him away. He shifts towards the edge of the bed, placing down his pen as a place marker before making his way over to the door. Opening it with a curious sort of look that was followed by a smile as he opened the door wide enough for T'Challa to walk in.
"Your Highness, any... good news?" He asks, bowing his head a little.
[sorry this is so late, it's been a rough week plus all my free time's being eaten up by dishonored 2]