The next time Bucky and Mandy worked the same shift he knew she was going to want to get coffee after, he was expect that much, but he wasn't expecting her to start drilling him for information as soon as they walked out the door.

"So what's your last name again?"

"Brown," he replied.

"James Brown, original," Mandy commented, "Were you named after the musician?"

"Who?"

"Never mind…"

"Sorry, I just didn't know there was a musician named James Brown, so I guess that answers your question," he said, forcing a laugh.

"Of course you didn't…" Mandy mused softly, "If you don't know James Brown, who do you know?"

"Uh… Glenn Miller," Bucky offered, "Louis Armstrong?"

"Of course," Mandy laughed, "Jazz, I should have known."

"How could you have known? You hardly know me at all, I wouldn't expect you to know what I like for music..." he questioned.

"Never mind," Mandy said again, "Okay, so favorite movie?"

"Don't have one," Bucky replied honestly.

"You work in a movie theater and you don't have a favorite movie, go figure."

He turned away from her as they kept walking but he felt her eyes on him still, it was making him uneasy.

"Are you going to make me do all the talking?" Mandy mumbled as they turned yet another corner.

"Sorry," Bucky muttered, "Not big on it."

"You don't seem to be big on much," Mandy retorted, "You know, you could have said no to coming with me."

"Didn't want to hurt your feelings," Bucky said lightly.

"Well you are right now, by not giving me anything to work with. It's not exactly fun when someone puts themself out there and you just mope around. Also, coffee was your idea."

"Sorry," Bucky muttered, feeling his cheeks get hot.

"You are one weird dude," Mandy sighed, "And that's an understatement…"

"Tell me about yourself," Bucky blurted, "I'm not that interesting…"

She eyed him suspiciously and then obliged his request. "Well, you know the basics. I live in a shit-hole apartment, I went to school for English Literature. Last name is Handover. I like Frank Sinatra and my favorite movie is anything with Mark Wahlberg in it..."

"Who's Mark Wahlberg?"

"Of course, you don't know him either. Boston accent, really well muscled guy, used to be a rapper. He's in Shooter and Pain & Gain."

"Uh huh," Bucky replied, not having a clue what she was talking about.

They reached the coffee shop and he held the door open for her which received a grateful smile. "Chivalry's not dead after all," she laughed.

He didn't know what that was supposed to imply, but he didn't dare admit it.

They ordered two coffees and a container of powdered donuts. Mandy got something fancy with whipped milk, and Bucky just took his coffee black, and then they opted to sit at a booth. Initially neither of them said anything, but then Mandy piped up again. He was starting to get used to her incessant talking, but he was still uneasy about her constant questions.

"You know, now that I think about it, I don't know if a ponytail would look good on you after all."

He tried not to envision muffling her with his sweatshirt and then stalking out into the night. Instead he just tried to look interested in what she had to say and sipped his coffee.

"I know its weird, but I have this bad habit of over analyzing people. And you are definitely not the ponytail kind of guy… I just can't decide what kind of guy you are."

"I don't think I'm any 'type' of guy," Bucky said flatly.

Mandy shrugged, "I guess, maybe."

"Sorry, that was rude…"

"It's fine," Mandy said, "I talk a lot, you don't. I get it, I'm annoying you."

"I'm not used to having to make conversation," he admitted.

"I can't imagine why," Mandy said under her breath, as if he wasn't supposed to hear. He let it go, not wanting to hear her theory on his lack of conversation skills. "My ex boyfriend was a computer analyst for some huge company," she sighed, "He was all suits and ties, nothing unique. But he had this stupid haircut that made him look like he walked off of an early Beatles album cover. It was god awful."

Beetles album? He'd never heard of an album about bugs, nor could he imagine why anyone would waste money making albums (something expensive to produce) on insects. Not to mention, as far as he knew beetles didn't have hair…

"Okay," he said, "Where is this story going exactly?"

"Sorry, sorry. My point was that I guess sometimes you aren't one type of person, so its sort of hard to pin down. So I get it, that maybe you aren't any type of guy. I mean, the next time I saw Scott he was joining the National Guard and he'd started sporting a mustache, which was some how worse than the dumb haircut."

He studied Mandy for a moment, not being able to place her next to a guy with a mustache and a nice suit. In fact she looked a lot like the lead female role in that new movie about Spider Man, which he'd just gotten a free ticket to see earlier that week. She wasn't a pin up girl by any means, but she was cute and had a bubbly personality. Not the sort of gal who would stick around in a stuffy office while her guy worked the late shift.

"After he broke up with me, I was mortified. He was the sort of guy people say you're supposed to end up with. He had a job, a good place to live, he was going places… I felt like such a failure. I didn't talk to anyone for months because I kept thinking there must've been something wrong with me for him to just leave…"

"He doesn't seem like he was that great, Mandy," Bucky chimed in before she could continue.

Her face flushed, "No, you're right. That's what I figured out eventually. But for a while I was so down on myself, I kept thinking about all the bad things I had ever done and I felt like I was some how responsible for him not wanting me. But it wasn't that, he'd just moved on…"

"Sometimes you have to move on," he mused.

"Yeah," Mandy sighed, finishing her coffee in one big swallow, "Listen, James. Um, I just wanted to say, that whatever it is that's holding you back? Learn from me, okay? Don't hold on to all the wrong things."

As they got up to leave Mandy handed him a small scrap of paper. "Just in case," she said with a small smile. And then she left.

As he walked out on to the chilly side walk he looked at the paper and stopped dead in his tracks.

You're probably going to think this is creepy but I looked you up online, and you don't exist.

(At least "James Brown" from Pensacola who studied at MIT doesn't…)

Also, I'm not stupid. James Brown? Come on, at least pick different initials!

Anyhow, if you ever want to talk, like really talk, about anything, let me know.

You shouldn't have to face this alone, and there are people out there who would be more than willing to help you.

-Mandy

456 West 36th Ave, Apt. 4B.

Current Threat Level Status: considerable