Bucky caught the glance and his own eyes narrowed in return, tensed slightly for judgment that never came. "Wasn't my choice," he said again without his previous resentments, because he felt he owed some explanation. At least it was preferred to the other members of staff that hadn't been too concerned with hiding their outright suspicion of him, even though he often felt it was deserved, that it was safer when he wasn't trusted. Bucky knew he'd be trusted even less if they knew he was fantasizing about regaining this arm, relived that it wasn't something others would be able to view.
His own secret. He had a lot of those. But this was one he didn't really think he could tell Steve. Because Steve would continue to forgive him, no matter the dumb shit he continued to say or do, but at least he couldn't be further hurt from what he didn't know. He knew this was the kind of thing that would hurt the other boy, admitting that he missed the very thing that represented the evil that almost destroyed them both.
He nodded slowly, turning his attention back to the limb, having tried to keep it at least in the corner of his vision the whole time in case it would slip away again. There was something relaxing about slowly closing and opening his fist, repeating the motion several times. "Yeah," he agreed with guilt heavy in his voice. Bucky flexed the arm to release built up tension, the metal plates shifting in a ripple in a way very unlike how the muscles of his right arm would react. "I don't think they'd understand," he admitted.