"Beggar," Bucky said with a laugh. "Could just ask for food you know." He watched Moo and then grinned. "Actually, nevermind. Can't get up. Cow. Gotta starve, Barton. They're stale anyway." He'd get up and get Clint his pastries ... eventually. He was comfortable and the kitten was fucking cute. Maybe he'd figure out something better than that by the time he was willing to get up anyway.
"Thought they make that stuff, not drink it," Bucky said, deadpan. He put a finger on Moo's little nose. "Is that like cannibalism for cows? Drinking dairy? Creepy cow," he told her. She seemed unconcerned and just gnawed on his finger, and Bucky snickered again. "If she gets hungry and tries to eat me in the middle of the night, you'd better look sad at my funeral and put something about a cow on the headstone, Barton."
He looked up as Clint dissolved into laughter, grinning at him. "I figure they must grow a lot in the first year. All the hay and cannibalism," he said. He looked amused. "Francis, huh? Pal, my parents named me James Buchanan. Francis isn't that bad." There had been a couple of James around, and Bucky had never liked Jim or Jimmy, so Bucky it had been. He pulled his finger away from Moo. "Barney's pretty bad though," he admitted. "Barney sounds like a bald guy." He didn't know why, it just did.