Idly he wonders if the others would see Zemo differently if he'd been a woman all along. He can't imagine they would. They'd still find him despicable, an easy target, a scapegoat to pin all their interpersonal problems onto. Bucky is still mapping out those feminine features in his head, like it's the first time he's seen a constellation from a different angle. All the stars are there but not in the right place, or brighter or duller than he's used to seeing.

"Can't help you there, sorry..." Bucky wouldn't even know where to start. He'd happily carry all the bags, as usual, but he's not sure that Zemo really needs to go wild in town. "Maybe you'll change back tomorrow. I don't think you'll need too many things, at least?" They should try and make this more fun and less stressful, although Bucky has never really found clothes shopping to be fun. He just wants to be left alone in a corner and try monochrome t-shirts, but people keep coming up to him trying to help him out, and the store is usually crowded, and he doesn't understand money anymore when everything costs more than 5 cents. But as usual, he disguises his being lost in the 21st century with a casual indifference and an intimidating stare, and hopes for the best.

"Oeznik hasn't suspected anything. We should be able to slip out quietly. He won't mind another day with Steve. I caught him redhanded scratching his cheek and petting him."