Ah-! [The involuntary reaction wrenches itself from Kira as his body lurches again, this time curling towards the pain. Fuck. If the knife at Bucky's throat had a little more pressure well, that's speculation. Pure coincidence.

Kira's head swims from the pain, swirls from the confusion and continues to turn over a few key elements here: What the fuck is this guy talking about. Hydra as in the mythical serpent? He doesn't know anything about that but he does know it doesn't sound like their style. Hand in hand with the ego riding in with trumpets and feathers; an agent of those bastards wouldn't play dumb this long. There should have been about four speeches about Faith and betrayal and letting Shit Run It's Course.

Nada.]

You have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about do you.

[Deadpanned. At least he didn't start with what the fuck are you talking about? The choice is pretty fucking obvious. As aggravating as this guy is, as badly as his pain is, as much as he aches to take that knife and shove it through this guy's temple, they're not on the same page. At all. It's imperative to keep the last few tricks up his sleeve and salvage this clusterfuck. If this fucker stabbed him now it'd be all over. Oh, not Kira himself. Just his cover.]

I was just joshin' ya, man, joshin'. I thought most crackheads like you stuck to dumpsters over on the fifth block. Tell me though, how the hell do you know what they tell you is really the truth?

[Broad shoulders hunch. Strained humor curves his lips. Pretends he doesn't feel the steel every time he inhales. Kira makes to withdraw.]