Son of a Witch

"Lucky you," Bucky echoed. "I'm not making you set up a tent. Unless you wanna stretch blankets over chairs and crawl underneath." Not that the little cabin had enough furniture to make a proper setup. But it had a bed, so at least Billy could sleep after his ordeal. Bucky would keep guard.

"Mmm," he mused, semi-seriously. "You can magic me up a tank, that would be fun. We can ride down the street in it, go through a drive thru for some bad takeout." A ridiculous notion, but why not laugh about something?

He looked up at the sky; the wind had picked up and snow flurries were just starting to fall. They'd be fully in it before they made it to shelter, which would work in their favor for hiding their trail. But Bucky couldn't help worrying how the weather might affect Billy. "We've gotta get going, storm will be here soon. What are you wearing under that cloak? A jacket? Or did Doom take everything useful?"