[ Enemies, he says, like he divides the world with such clarity. Bucky's jaw sets, icy anger flickers at the word slavers, and then he pushes it back down. This isn't his to fight, much as he would in a heartbeat. What's here is a person marred by that conflict. ]
There's none of 'em here, [ he says, firmly. ] and if there are they won't be around long.
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There's none of 'em here, [ he says, firmly. ] and if there are they won't be around long.