Chess is a game that Sherlock Homes detests. It's all in the the secretism. You don't know what you're facing until two pieces left the board is flipped and you see the whole game unravel. Suddenly it's so obvious why they made that strange move half an hour ago. Deducing Mycroft Holmes' love life is like playing blindfolded in your sleep against the grand master Sherlock thinks

Avengers don't imply Arrive. Avengers enter with style, they drop in (literally), they explode though walls with flares and firearms, they appear, sometimes they intrude. And whatever they do it is always completely and entirely them. The arrival of James Barnes therefore could never have been anything less than what it is. Messy, unpredictable and just a little bit complicated.

Bucky's been playing with the NYSO for five years or so, and now he's looking at the principle's chair which might as well have his name scrawled all over it. Until it it doesn't. It's a bit like being underwater suddenly, drowning in that ever intoxicating cocktail of disappointment and embarrassment. He'd been so sure. Well, before this fucking Adonis turned up, at least.