[Bucky stares in silence a little longer before following Steve's gaze to the notes on the table. Oh. Those. He picks up the closest bunch of them and fans them out across the table. On the papers are names and extremely sketchy faces, accompanied by descriptors. In the corners are a few series of numbers but scribbled scribbled out enough times that he gave up on trying to give them a concrete timeframe.
Art was never his thing, but it's the least he can do.
With a sigh, he carefully sits on the floor beside the table and leans his back against the wall. He's almost knee-to-knee with Steve from how narrow the dwelling is.]
no subject
Bianca. Blonde. Blue eyes. 5'6". Ukraine. 1970s?
People he killed. People he should never forget.
Art was never his thing, but it's the least he can do.
With a sigh, he carefully sits on the floor beside the table and leans his back against the wall. He's almost knee-to-knee with Steve from how narrow the dwelling is.]
Targets.