AND THE WATER CREEPS TO MY CHEST // CAPSIZING BOATHOUSE

[STEVE]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Steve wasn't a huge fan of large bodies of water. Most people lived on the boardwalk, but he'd made himself a...home, of some sort, farther inland, away from the water. When the heavy rains came, the most he had to deal with was the mud, and the chill, though he knew the same wouldn't be for everyone living on the boardwalk. He wasn't any formidable swimmer, but he couldn't just avoid the whole area when there could be someone needing help, so in spite of the odds of the rain knocking him off the boardwalk, the small feline made certain to check by the area when he could, all the while hoping that the rains wouldn't last much longer.

But when was the weather ever affected by a thing like hope?

Regardless, he figured he could be of some use eventually, though he doubted he made much of an impressive figure, thin fur soaked through to expose even more of his skeleton. At least people were unlikely to mind him when they had the rains to worry about, so he continued about his business, painstakingly making his way over the boardwalk, claws a desperate grip on the wood. It was while he slowly crossed that there was, over the sound of the rain, a heavier sound, like something large tipping. He increased his pace, spotting an overturned boat rapidly filling with water, and from inside, he could hear Bucky's voice calling for help.

Steve didn't hesitate, fumbling with a length of rope on the boardwalk, tying it to one of the posts with adrenaline fueled hastiness, and then he leaped into the water with the rest of it in his mouth. He hoped it was long enough, because if he wasted any time, that could be Bucky's life. Spitting out water, attempting to keep his head above the surface, Steve swam forward, through one of the windows, but it was a slow process. He wasn't much of a swimmer, and he was hardly strong, but he was stubborn, and whenever the panic started to sink in, he fought it back.

He found Bucky clinging to a wardrobe, and the smell of vomit was noticeable, but Steve had smelled worse things, and no scent could deter him anyway. The small feline was swept over by the influx of water, hitting the wardrobe, which would probably bruise, though that didn't matter either. Steve tossed the rope over the dresser to Bucky's side, working his sore jaw. "Hold onto that! We can both swim back with it."