"I-- don't like wasting food." Or, well, he has weird hangups about it, likely a relic of some unresolved trauma around unintentional and intentional scarcity. Rationally he knows he's not going to starve again - at least, not while he's around Zemo and Oeznik - but there's so many uncertainties that they're pointedly not talking about in their current situation. Bucky doesn't like throwing away his old clothes either.

"I care about every name in the notebook." It's just that he wants to take care of some of them with a gun and he wants to take care of the others with honest confessions. It's not a hitman's list of names of people to bury.

"I don't-- I don't think what you did is right." He used to sound a lot more certain about this, but it's testament to Zemo's silver tongue that Bucky seems increasingly doubtful. "But I don't think anyone stopped to think about what they put you through, either. And I'm. I'm done, being the guy who hurts other people all the time. I just want to be..." Bucky fidgets a bit, wringing his hands, hiding metal and bandages under those gloves, touching his wedding ring.

"...someone better."