"Yeah, yeah, you get the excuse to make the lousy jokes anyways." Sam arched a brow, doing that silent thing where he called Bucky on his bullshit without actually calling him on his bullshit outloud. Sam could pack a lot of punch in an expression sometimes.
Sam shook his head, laughing in a way that fell a little flat. "No. Ran into him at Clint's thing. He's never been in to see me. Didn't even know who I was. Like most of you. Assumed I was a spy for the Capitol. Like most of you." Sam's lips pressed together in a thin line. "No. Wanted a job where I could make some sort of difference. Joke's on me. Would have made more of a dent as a 'Keeper at this rate." He sighed, and dropped the pen, scrubbing his hands over his face. "My best friend was a Victor. He never really made it out of the Arena though. Not really."
Sam leaned back in his chair and gave Bucky a long, tired look. "Yeah. Okay, Barnes. You're fine. It's not like you're ever gonna tell me different, and I know you don't need pumped full of that shit they want to dose you with. So officially, you're fine." Which was not Sam's usual line. Usually, he tried to press. Not hard, and not intrusively, but he'd usually try to get something from Bucky.