Bucky didn't do much better than Eliot in the end, but for once he didn't really feel very competitive; it was more about the companionship, the gentle ribbing and teasing and back-and-forth, the ability to forget, for a while, all the other things he had on his mind. That was priceless to Bucky.

At the question, Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away in embarrassment. Sighing, he dropped his arm and gave an aggrieved sigh. "Red Lantern. My apartment's awful. Looks like a drag queen walked in, started to decorate, and then just... exploded." After a moment, he gave a shrug. "It's a helluva lot better than anywhere else I've ever lived, though, 'cept for the decor. Bed's pretty comfy." And big. Worryingly big, since there was absolutely no reason to make a bed that big just to sleep in. And certainly not for just one person. "It looks like a high-end queer hotel."

He wasn't trying to be offensive - that was honestly the most polite term he knew, from his time.