“Don’t care honestly.”

           [ Bucky watches as he sips more of the drink
             and frowns slightly. He takes it from Harry’s
              hand and takes a mouthful for himself.
               His eyes bug out a little when Harry says he’s dying. ]

                  “What’s the thing anyways?”

            “ I might just have to sing you happy
               songs until you cheer the fuck up.
               And that’s coming from me of all
               people. ”

      [ Harry let’s the man take the bottle , but laughes alittle
          when he sees the look on the mans face and the 
           question he decided to ask. ]

            “ We like to call the thing – The Osborn
                Curse. You see the infected green blotch  
                 on my neck? That’s going to spread
                 and maybe I’ll go crazy like my old
                 man did as I slowly die. And the funny
                 thing is – someone can help me –
                 but they fucking said no. The person
                 whose suppose to fucking give me 
                 hope – rips the hope I had left 
                 away from me. Fucking great , right? "