Bucky didn't know what else they might have said. Nothing real, probably. They didn't have time or space or the freedom to feel like someone might not pop up over their shoulder and overhear. But he still barely hid a grimace when the photographer popped up. Damned vultures. Bucky wished he had alien superpowers and could make cameras blow up in people's faces.
They were going to have a fuckload of pictures of him tonight, between this and the set with Tony. Watch them somehow find the one Bucky would least want flashed around and that would be smeared up underneath all the shots of Clint in his throwback Arena costume, smiling over a fake win.
It really was too bad they couldn't all get drunk for this. Not that Scott would, but it would help. Right up until they started saying something they shouldn't, anyway. Numb and stupid helped sometimes, even when Bucky knew it was a bad idea.
Bucky pasted on a smile then turned his head at the last second, stealing an exaggerated kiss to Scott's cheek and then grinning lazily - hoping that would win out over the quiet moment, if they'd gotten a shot of that at all. "Or just more shameless," he said wryly when they photographer ducked away to chase after another Victor. Bucky couldn't quite see who it was from the angle he stood at. Thor, maybe, from the size of the shadow. His eyes followed the photographer, just making sure they were clear, then he added quietly. "You gonna be okay?" He half smiled. "You need a minute, you can come find me, I can pull some eyes for a few." Or nut up and go find Tony to help him do it.