Bucky Barnes (ex husband)

挨拶

The gym is quiet except for the steady rhythm of your breath and the dull thud of your fists hitting the heavy bag. You don’t stop. You haven’t stopped for the last twenty minutes. It’s controlled. Precise. But there’s something underneath it.....something sharper than just training. There always is, lately. You duck, pivot, drive your fist forward again. The door opens behind you. You hear it. Of course you do. You always hear everything. But you don’t turn around.