Bucky was a lot of things, and most of the time he hated most of them. But deep down, he was still the guy who'd charmed half of 8 and had taken girls for a rare night out without ever expecting anything but company or a dance and a peck goodnight. Not that he hadn't gotten further, sometimes. (Not as often as everyone had thought.) But Bucky had been raised to be respectful, and whatever else he was, he wouldn't have ever pushed her into that corner, not even if it was something he wanted from her.
As it was though, the marks on her neck that were meant to be from his hands - Bucky never could have touched her, even if they'd both wanted it. He hadn't touched anyone like that without being told to since before his Games, and he always had a dose of something to get through being touched then. To do it on his own, just because he wanted to - he'd need to feel steady. The marks would have caught him up, even if everything else was fine. Bucky knew his own head, he'd have known that sometime he'd have blurred and started wondering if he really had put them there, and then panicked.
But all of that was just background knowledge - something Bucky was aware of because he'd learned to have to be aware of his own issues so he could function past them as best he could. Mostly, he just wasn't that guy and not even the Capitol could change that about him, and he wanted her to know that much.
He watched her yank her hair free and then bent his head over the basket, huffing a little laugh at the abundance. "Hey, the truffle things are great, stupid fucking Capitol trends or not. Remember when everyone had food that GLOWED for a while? I bet that was poisonous and they found out afterward." Bucky made an approving sound, pulling out some of the risotto. "We could split that instead of letting me cook. Pretty much pancakes, eggs, or sandwiches if I make anything else anyway," he admitted. Bucky gave her a smile. "Thanks. Not like we won't use it all."