"I'm not HYDRA," Zemo answers simply. Some situations, you have to leave others behind. They were soldiers. They both knew lost causes when they saw them -- and how they had to be handled, whether you liked it or not. Honestly, Bucky had been one of those lost causes, hadn't he? Perhaps if someone had come back for him back then, he wouldn't have been dragged off to HYDRA's hands.
No need to dwell in what-ifs of the past though. "And anyway, don't be dramatic, James. It's a cut to the hand. Hardly worth leaving anyone behind over..."
Maybe he's willfully ignoring the implication there. Zemo hadn't really considered that Bucky... wouldn't make it. Couldn't make it. He'd thought him a murderer still, maybe, but doubting his will to survive? Just looking how far he's come should attest to some sort of will to not die. Or maybe it's just that he hasn't had the option otherwise yet.
"I want to." It's better than letting him bleed or hurt. Quietly, Zemo wraps the gauze around his hand, eyes focused on his work until it's done, but there's a bit of a softer look when Zemo looks back up.
"I wouldn't have cared to marry you if you were so disappointing, James, drunk or not. You've been-- very good. More than I expected. Good to me, good for me. I also don't have any intention of giving you up anytime soon, so you can put that worry to rest." If it was a worry at all.
Once the bandage is done, Zemo guides his hand up to brush another kiss over the back of it -- a mirror of that night at the clinic. "There. Go dress and have dinner, James."
... And let Zemo browse through his phone in peace, of course. He has no doubt Bucky told him a bit of truth, but he can't help but be curious what exactly was said, what slander is being thrown his way. "I'll see you downstairs in the hot tub later."
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No need to dwell in what-ifs of the past though. "And anyway, don't be dramatic, James. It's a cut to the hand. Hardly worth leaving anyone behind over..."
Maybe he's willfully ignoring the implication there. Zemo hadn't really considered that Bucky... wouldn't make it. Couldn't make it. He'd thought him a murderer still, maybe, but doubting his will to survive? Just looking how far he's come should attest to some sort of will to not die. Or maybe it's just that he hasn't had the option otherwise yet.
"I want to." It's better than letting him bleed or hurt. Quietly, Zemo wraps the gauze around his hand, eyes focused on his work until it's done, but there's a bit of a softer look when Zemo looks back up.
"I wouldn't have cared to marry you if you were so disappointing, James, drunk or not. You've been-- very good. More than I expected. Good to me, good for me. I also don't have any intention of giving you up anytime soon, so you can put that worry to rest." If it was a worry at all.
Once the bandage is done, Zemo guides his hand up to brush another kiss over the back of it -- a mirror of that night at the clinic. "There. Go dress and have dinner, James."
... And let Zemo browse through his phone in peace, of course. He has no doubt Bucky told him a bit of truth, but he can't help but be curious what exactly was said, what slander is being thrown his way. "I'll see you downstairs in the hot tub later."