"Cute," he rolls his eyes with a soft groan. The banter he can live with. He could sustain himself on it for a long damn time. He doesn't love the idea of it ending here, in this stupid freezer. He's going to get them the hell out of here so that doesn't become a reality.

Even before he speaks again, Bucky feels the shift in him. Something a little heavier than the air in the room. Something serious drawn into the other man's features. He's not sure if he wants to hear the request that's coming. More acceptance of the death he's staring down the barrel of. It makes something twist sharply in his chest.

None of this shows on his face, though. Bucky's good at that. Keeping things under wraps, not painting across his face, raw and open. He doesn't like being good at it, but it's handy sometimes.

"What is it?"