Bucky swallows heavily, sizing Steve up, reaching up with his flesh hand to wipe at the blood that was still oozing from his forehead. He remebers that -- hitting his head on the windshield of the helicopter, his hand around Steve's throat. His gaze drops, looking for bruises, for any sign that he did serious damage while he wasn't himself. Again. "You know what happened," he replies, his voice softer, quieter now. Almost resigned. He knows he can't escape Steve forever, and he knows that means he'll inevitably hurt his friend again. Just the thought makes bile rise in his throat, but he forces it down, taking a deep breath as he straightens up, though his hands are still curled to fists at his sides.

"I crashed a fucking helicopter into you. I think that makes it pretty obvious that being near me is dangerous, especially for you." He tries to say it like the Winter Soldier might, tries to put some hardness back into his voice, his face, but it just doesn't come. He can't stay mad at Steve, not really. not even when it was for his own damn good.