They can blame HYDRA for that. Their cyborg might have needed frequent repair works to his metal arm, but he never needed full-on medical attention. If he can't handle being stapled back together and scowling silently through his injuries, then he isn't worthy to serve them.
Naturally that's how Bucky tackles all adversities. With a deep scowl and without using his words. No reason why that should stop working after it's carried the Soldier through the past eighty years.
"It would have healed on its own," he insists softly, like he's not exactly sure if it would have. Just about everything that's been inflicted on him has healed on its own, so. Slicing his hand open surely wouldn't have been any different...
"We'll see how long this lasts, I guess." If tomorrow Zemo wakes up in his old body, then it's not going to be a bad thing either. Today will have just been a weird kind of Cinderella moment that will have come and gone and they'll have made as much of it as they were happy to. If tomorrow he's still like this, they should just be upfront with Oeznik and spend another day out. Whether they tell him now, or later, they're just putting off the inevitable worrying and fussing and questions anyway.
"I think it's just over here." Bucky isn't using GPS. He'd taken half a day when they first got to Wyoming to scope out everything in the vicinity of the farmhouse, what the main towns had to offer, how many gas stations there were within 5 miles, how many ways to get onto the highway and everything else he thought was important, and he committed them all to memory. Usually Zemo drives, but when Bucky does get behind the wheel, he's able to navigate without one of those ladies in the phone asserting her dominance narrating orders at him.
There's only a few cars parked out front and the car rolls to a stop. He could have gone in the middle but Bucky would have been unconsciously anxious about being trapped in the centre, preferring to be slightly off to one side.
"Any last minute requests?" They do have enough snacks but it never hurts to ask the baron in case he has a last minute craving for a flute of Dom Perignon...
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Naturally that's how Bucky tackles all adversities. With a deep scowl and without using his words. No reason why that should stop working after it's carried the Soldier through the past eighty years.
"It would have healed on its own," he insists softly, like he's not exactly sure if it would have. Just about everything that's been inflicted on him has healed on its own, so. Slicing his hand open surely wouldn't have been any different...
"We'll see how long this lasts, I guess." If tomorrow Zemo wakes up in his old body, then it's not going to be a bad thing either. Today will have just been a weird kind of Cinderella moment that will have come and gone and they'll have made as much of it as they were happy to. If tomorrow he's still like this, they should just be upfront with Oeznik and spend another day out. Whether they tell him now, or later, they're just putting off the inevitable worrying and fussing and questions anyway.
"I think it's just over here." Bucky isn't using GPS. He'd taken half a day when they first got to Wyoming to scope out everything in the vicinity of the farmhouse, what the main towns had to offer, how many gas stations there were within 5 miles, how many ways to get onto the highway and everything else he thought was important, and he committed them all to memory. Usually Zemo drives, but when Bucky does get behind the wheel, he's able to navigate without one of those ladies in the phone asserting her dominance narrating orders at him.
There's only a few cars parked out front and the car rolls to a stop. He could have gone in the middle but Bucky would have been unconsciously anxious about being trapped in the centre, preferring to be slightly off to one side.
"Any last minute requests?" They do have enough snacks but it never hurts to ask the baron in case he has a last minute craving for a flute of Dom Perignon...