Bucky visibly responds when he's touched. He makes a noise, and grimaces when it feels like swallowing razorblades just trying to deal with his dry mouth. He watches Sokka impassively for a good half a minute before he forces himself to try and let the lethargy roll off his back, lift his head and pull his right leg in an inch closer. He's present. He's here. His face rolls into the floor and the heel of his palm presses down two inches in front of his chin. He's not used to being taken care of, like this. And usually when it is offered, it's not a kid with a will of steel and a heart of gold.

"Nnn-- the..." Eyebrows furrow deeply as he tries to talk with the weight and the awkwardness of stone marbles in his mouth. He almost gives up on pushing himself up, but somehow it's easier once most of the weight is off his armless shoulder to go the rest of the way upright. At least until his weight settles in the pit of his stomach and his tailbone and blood rushes into his head, making him dizzy. He falls back clumsily against the wall and window ledge behind him, breathing deeply.

A part of him is too proud and far too stubborn to ask for help, whether it be to stay upright or for the water. But he almost needs help pushing his chin up to make the shape for the words he wants to say with his mouth.

"The... Nnndd... D-Duck." One slow blink. And then another. Deep breath. "Doc...tor."