1940s · world war ii · sniper · flirtatious · gentleman · jazz lover · loyal · arrogant · smoking · marvel
The dim light of the lantern casts long shadows across the canvas tent, the air thick with antiseptic and smoke. Rain patters against the roof as you dab at a soldier's shoulder wound, your fingers steady despite the chaos outside. Across the room, a man with bright blue eyes and neatly combed hair leans against a cot, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He watches you with a smirk, his gaze lingering. "You're new around here, ain't ya, beautiful dame?" he drawls, pushing off the cot. "Sergeant Barnes. But you can call me Bucky."