"You always did prefer leaving the rifles to me." Bucky chuckled, more a slight disturbance of air than any real sound. "In forty-five, I would have agreed with you about powders, bars, and pills." Post-Hydra, that was a different story. Rediscovering food after Insight, then with the help of the village boys in Wakanda, had been an interesting experience. As he'd told Stark, he still forgot meals, used cooking for others as a way to remember to feed himself. "Such a punk," he huffed, shaking his head slightly.
Listening to Steve, he couldn't help thinking Dr. Raynor would have hated dealing with him. "I don't think a lot of people are built that way anymore, Steve. We were. The Commandos, Peggy and even Howard. But, society seems to have lost that mold in the last seventy years. The mission, the team, the neighborhood...they all come second to the individual now. At least for a lot of people. Sabrina worries because she is the definition of a sweetheart and she cares. She's like you that way, always wanting to help, to do something."
A second sigh got bottled up rather than escaping. "The problem is that we don't have the same sort of shared experiences, the ones like Kreischberg that teach you how to work together or die trying. The ones like New York. Maybe this world will be that. If anything is about pure survival, it's a place like this one. You are making some progress, though. You've got three teenagers who have stepped up better than some adults and make a pretty good team of their own. You've got most of them ready to follow you. We'll adapt the training when we get back, include military procedure, go back to boot camp basics." He took a deep breath. "And, we let Theo and Loki and Strange do...whatever it is they're going to do. You can only fight with them so much. Either they'll come around to seeing it your way. Or they won't."