“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? "