( smiling is sometimes rare for ash — not that he's a sad person, but he is serious, like his body never really learned how to flash a smile that didn't belong on the cover of the new york times, first as a proclaimed war hero, and then again as the first third party president of the united states. still, it's a genuine one that he cracks at bucky, at the offer. to be honest, he's perfectly tickled by it, the hidden promise inside — it was difficult to get a read on him over text completely, but now ash feels like he can see the pages of his book spread, in a bold font. he wants to be considered worthwhile, a worthy investment. he wants to be praised for something other than a terrible job well done.

which is a relatable enough desire, that ash feels a kinship to him — though ash's story doesn't involve the severity of bucky's landmine mind. he doesn't make him wait long, giving a gesture to the chair. )

You'll note that wasn't actually asking permission. ( but he's endeared, not pissed, and his eyes sparkle accordingly. ) You can have a seat. All that will come after we come to an agreement.

( he thinks about his wording, smile drooping a little, before he nods. ash is very good at forgetting to ask for permission, at just assuming the world lives on the tips of his fingers. )

Well, I hope we'll come to an agreement, in any case. By the way — do you have any allergies? I like ordering for other people.