ever marching as to war

Bucky doesn't respond right away, letting Steve's word wash over him and settle before he thinks of anything to say in turn. His own experience was different, of course, but there are enough similarities to count. By the time he'd come to grips with his own memories -- some he remembers, others still buried -- getting himself to a bar had been one of Bucky's first priorities, followed closely by getting himself a fight.

The latter's more difficult to come by, here; unless there's to be a reprise of Halloween within the next couple of hours, all that's left to them are a bunch of civilians looking for an escape that's dependent on the whims of a sadistic and creative prison warden. Bucky's half-tempted to suggest they pay Stark a visit, but doesn't want to risk Steve taking him up on the offer; he'd like to see the guy knocked down a few pegs, sure, but not killed at another man's hand. Taking the bottle back for himself, Bucky pours another shot, and downs it, focusing on the alcohol's burn, if only because it beats the alternative.

"That mean you want to leave?" he asks, voice a touch hoarse. "'Cause I can get drunk enough for the both of us, pal."