'She comes back with a hiker’s backpack, out of which she pulls a pair of jersey shorts, black leggings, a red bandana and a bunch of colorful string bracelets.
"Jesus," Sam says, looking it over. "Is there some naked hippie grad student knocked out somewhere in the hotel right now?"
"None of these items will be traced back to us," Natasha says soothingly, which doesn't answer his question.'
Oh man, this fic! This fic is EVERYTHING.
Honestly, the dedication it takes to write over 500 pages of the Winter Soldier, aka Bucky Barnes, prioritising self-care and dealing with seventy years worth of trauma is freaking amazing!