rigged with PAVA pepper spray nothing lethal ball bearings out of stock
Would he have jury-rigged a claymore mine to take out any burglar, raccoon, mad scientist doctor, suddenly-wife or unsuspecting neighbour? You bet.
Finally abandoning the pen and paper, he flexes his hand and gestures for her to come. Of course, the standard military way, sweeping an open hand closer to himself, which probably means something else to her. Hopefully she'll follow him to the kitchen regardless. With his toes wedged against the bottom door, Bucky opens the top door of the fridge. It was fully stocked when he got here, but supplies have whittled down to mostly just the things he eats. Bacon, eggs, milk, butter. A bag of apples. A whole shelf of beer.
He doesn't seem to have any problem using a knife on people, but chopping vegetables is tough with one hand. So anything that most families around here might buy intact and keep in the fridge is in the freezer, like pre-cut broccoli florets, sliced three colour peppers, 30 boxes of TV dinners...
Anyway. Leftover mac and cheese is in the fridge, above the beers. He's portioned them out into 3 containers already, so he takes one out and removes the lid, slides it into the microwave and punches in two minutes. He's figuring out his human body can't eat as much as he used to, but making smaller portions has not been so intuitive.
They're going to have to figure out how to communicate without writing all the time. Bucky gestures for her to sit and points to the coffee pot. Want one?
no subject
PAVApepper spraynothing lethal
ball bearings out of stock
Would he have jury-rigged a claymore mine to take out any burglar, raccoon, mad scientist doctor, suddenly-wife or unsuspecting neighbour? You bet.
Finally abandoning the pen and paper, he flexes his hand and gestures for her to come. Of course, the standard military way, sweeping an open hand closer to himself, which probably means something else to her. Hopefully she'll follow him to the kitchen regardless. With his toes wedged against the bottom door, Bucky opens the top door of the fridge. It was fully stocked when he got here, but supplies have whittled down to mostly just the things he eats. Bacon, eggs, milk, butter. A bag of apples. A whole shelf of beer.
He doesn't seem to have any problem using a knife on people, but chopping vegetables is tough with one hand. So anything that most families around here might buy intact and keep in the fridge is in the freezer, like pre-cut broccoli florets, sliced three colour peppers, 30 boxes of TV dinners...
Anyway. Leftover mac and cheese is in the fridge, above the beers. He's portioned them out into 3 containers already, so he takes one out and removes the lid, slides it into the microwave and punches in two minutes. He's figuring out his human body can't eat as much as he used to, but making smaller portions has not been so intuitive.
They're going to have to figure out how to communicate without writing all the time. Bucky gestures for her to sit and points to the coffee pot. Want one?