Whatever he anticipated a treatment for this to be, some spell or potion to simply numb whatever part of his brain was defective, he wasn't exactly prepared for the sight of his missing arm when he opened his eyes. Alarm flickered across his face as he moved the fingers, metal plates shifting with the movement the way he remembered. Bucky blinked, considered, no idea how to feel. Obviously it wasn't real, and he feared to touch anything in case it'd break the illusion, just turning his hand over with speechless awe as it responded.
Was the choice of the metal arm over a flesh one a deliberate choice of his own brain? It had to have been since the healer hadn't known what it looked like, and something inside his stomach twisted at the realization it wasn't even his real arm that he wanted back. The metal one had been forced upon him and taken away from him without any consent, but it had been his, it had been part of him. And it had been a weapon, representing not only what was done to him but also what he had then done to others.
"Can you see it?" he asked hesitantly, no idea if the illusion was in his mind alone or something projected. It was exactly as he remembered, glossy and the Dark Mark stamped upon it as ownership. And that was pretty damning to have on display. Most of the staff had been informed of his past, a condition from the Ministry for him being there at all, but did Lecter know? He finally tore his gaze away from the arm to the healer, looking for any evidence of a reaction or judgement.