Yeah well, you're durable and I'm reckless. Not sure how I missed that "die young" mark at all, but here we are.
I have a job for you. Take the steering wheel of his shit train to nowhere because I swear to freaking god if there WAS a god that I am about to crash it all and say WHOOOPSIE can we get a do over but oh no we CAN'T because the universe has chewed us up and spit us out and no this is not a panic attack I'm ok everything's fine in fact it's so good it's GREEEEEEAAAAAAT.
Ok, office boy. Hired. Take the apartment and car and I don't know? Maybe back the hell away from the zombie until you two get on your feet? And until we can figure out if he's not lying through his teeth about trying to reform himself, because HYDRA? Notorious for infiltrating all the things?
Look, that was another of my bad jokes and it's not like I want or need to rack up a body count. But at the same time, I'd kinda feel like I could get my super restful two or three hours of sleep a night if Rumlow was nowhere near Barnes until we can solve this code-word issue.