[ The Winter Soldier whirls to greet Luke's approach the way he had the last husk, with a vice grip and a twist — and then stops short, wary blue eyes catching at the sight of the other man. Those eyes are the same, at least, if nothing else about him is — long, scraggly hair over half a face mask, black leather tac gear, and a prosthesis that's had a few upgrades. But from the look on his face (or, half-face) at the sight of Luke, you'd think he was the one who was almost unrecognizable. Belatedly, his hand drops to his side, recategorizing. Luke. Phoenix. Ally, not enemy. ]
Functional, [ he answers. Injuries are a little hard to gauge beneath all the leather, and there's a certain relentlessness to his bearing that suggests he might not pay much attention if he was hurt, but it's nothing that's slowing him down at any rate. He looks beyond Luke, to the felled Scion, back to the lightsaber. Not bad. ]
Together? [ with a nod ahead, to the next wave of husks. While there's no pattern to their formation, they do at least seem to be coming from a particular direction. ]
no subject
Functional, [ he answers. Injuries are a little hard to gauge beneath all the leather, and there's a certain relentlessness to his bearing that suggests he might not pay much attention if he was hurt, but it's nothing that's slowing him down at any rate. He looks beyond Luke, to the felled Scion, back to the lightsaber. Not bad. ]
Together? [ with a nod ahead, to the next wave of husks. While there's no pattern to their formation, they do at least seem to be coming from a particular direction. ]