[As much as Bucky would like to let go of this oh-so-poor guy’s foot (yeah, can’t you feel the sympathy radiating from him?), his fingers can only involuntarily tighten around the cracking bones, a problem that has only increased in frequency since he hasn’t been back to that place for the proper recalibrations.

He grits his teeth and glances around for any indicators of an escape route but finds none. Eh...he'd gotten out of worse, he's sure of it--he just can't remember what. He knows only because he's not too worried.]

I don’t know what Hydra’s told you, [he winces as the word tumbles from his mouth, associated with pain and exhaustion all the way deep down in his fucking nerve endings and hopes it isn’t enough for the other one to notice--] but obviously it was something really special for you to believe all this angel shit.

[Finally--he grasps the knife at his back with his right hand and presses the tip to Kira’s side where his ribs stop, straining to sit up enough to reach him]

‘fraid neither of us has the luxury. What you’re gonna do is let me get up or the down payment goes up to a shattered foot and your left lung.

[So much for negotiating, huh. Oh well, not much his specialty.]