What feels like an unprompted but perhaps long overdue outburst catches Bucky by surprise. He himself melts down by shutting down, and his occasional outbursts are usually much more violent than they are verbal. He's not familiar with this, nor does he know how to deal with this, and the silence that he usually seeks refuge in starts to become uncomfortable and awkward the longer it stretches after Arthur finishes.
Because the truth is, Bucky doesn't know how small Arthur's world is. He hasn't really... cared. Getting out of Sweetwater, dealing with Doctor Norman, retrieving his vibranium arm, destroying-- whatever they extracted out of him so nobody else gets hold of the supersoldier serum - these things are high up on his agenda. Blending in with the civilians and figuring out his limitations without the serum are about as close to empathy as he's getting. Walking a mile in Arthur's shoes is definitely not in the mission brief.
The only thing that Bucky knows about making the world a better place is what Uncle Sam and HYDRA had drilled into him. Put enemies in his crosshairs and get blood and dirt on his hands. He doesn't-- really understand that he's supposed to start one person at a time. One neighbour who deserves more dignity and respect than he's been accorded at a time.
Bucky breathes out a quiet sigh, which at least signals that he's still there, but he doesn't really know how to respond. He's just as familiar with this time period as Arthur is; if he thought Arthur was genuinely helpless he wouldn't have given him his knife; and to him, Arthur needs protecting. Even with no serum, no metal arm, and his knife currently in Arthur's possession, he could disarm and kill Arthur in a dozen different ways right now if he wanted to. He didn't think being entrusted with his knife and told to wait in the car would be a point of contention.
Given some time to reflect, Bucky might eventually figure out what Arthur is trying to say. He might be able to understand what he has been taking for granted and adjust his own behaviour accordingly. But at the moment he can only see Arthur yelling at him waving his knife around. He can't really see Arthur right now. Not the way Arthur wants to be seen.
"How do you want me to treat you." Bucky keeps the defensiveness out of his monotonous voice and doesn't try to justify what he's said or done, even though he doesn't think he's in the wrong.
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Because the truth is, Bucky doesn't know how small Arthur's world is. He hasn't really... cared. Getting out of Sweetwater, dealing with Doctor Norman, retrieving his vibranium arm, destroying-- whatever they extracted out of him so nobody else gets hold of the supersoldier serum - these things are high up on his agenda. Blending in with the civilians and figuring out his limitations without the serum are about as close to empathy as he's getting. Walking a mile in Arthur's shoes is definitely not in the mission brief.
The only thing that Bucky knows about making the world a better place is what Uncle Sam and HYDRA had drilled into him. Put enemies in his crosshairs and get blood and dirt on his hands. He doesn't-- really understand that he's supposed to start one person at a time. One neighbour who deserves more dignity and respect than he's been accorded at a time.
Bucky breathes out a quiet sigh, which at least signals that he's still there, but he doesn't really know how to respond. He's just as familiar with this time period as Arthur is; if he thought Arthur was genuinely helpless he wouldn't have given him his knife; and to him, Arthur needs protecting. Even with no serum, no metal arm, and his knife currently in Arthur's possession, he could disarm and kill Arthur in a dozen different ways right now if he wanted to. He didn't think being entrusted with his knife and told to wait in the car would be a point of contention.
Given some time to reflect, Bucky might eventually figure out what Arthur is trying to say. He might be able to understand what he has been taking for granted and adjust his own behaviour accordingly. But at the moment he can only see Arthur yelling at him waving his knife around. He can't really see Arthur right now. Not the way Arthur wants to be seen.
"How do you want me to treat you." Bucky keeps the defensiveness out of his monotonous voice and doesn't try to justify what he's said or done, even though he doesn't think he's in the wrong.