"You're assuming they will," Bucky snorted. "They're probably going to try to soften us up. If we're lucky, we won't be here long enough for it to matter."

He was relaxing slowly, almost reluctantly, but he was relaxing. He was still exhausted, and his head still ached from the earlier blow, though not half as much as his throbbing feet.

"You're putting yourself out an awful lot for a guy you barely know," he pointed out, still not sure what the hell was really going on with the other man. His insistence that Bucky not die had been oddly fervent, almost passionate.