It feels like any amount of Zemo is too much Zemo. Probably the result of spending so much time in isolation. Even if Steve was still around, Bucky might bristle and grumble and squirm uneasily if he stuck around long enough to see the cracks in this veneer of a life that Bucky's carved out for himself.

The barn is not in the tidiest condition, but Bucky's clearly made an effort. He feeds his animals better than he feeds himself and his unexpected guests. He's been cleaning out the stalls, or the place would smell a lot worse than it currently does. He'd rather be left alone to sweep the floor and brush his cow, but, fine, he'll shoot glares and make conversation. It'll take him some time to get used to talking so much.

"They were due to be. Retired." He wouldn't claim to be so heroic as to have 'rescued' them. But as an animal that his old owners no longer have any use for, that's not as efficient or productive or easy to keep sedated and under control anymore, he can sympathise. "I had space for them. That's all." And if Zemo has any other ideas about his milkless cow, his puppyless dog and the occasional egg a week chicken, Bucky will most definitely not be having space for Zemo.

Even if the old girl is quite delighted with the company and seems to be giving Zemo heart-eyes whenever Bucky's not looking.