Bucky snorted. "Lousy. Fuck you. What do you know, you read bad porn," he said with a quirk grin, eyes not quite meeting Sam's - evading the expression he was giving Bucky without actually looking away. It was a trick Bucky was pretty good at.
Bucky did watch Sam though, heard the flatness in the other man's voice, his own expression flickering a little - confusion there, however brief and masked. "Even if we didn't think that," Bucky said finally. "People wouldn't just come talk. There's not a lot of ... counseling happening in Districts like 8. You talk to your family, or you don't talk. It wouldn't be against you." It was just an outside concept to most of them - airing problems to someone who wasn't from the same place and situation. Add in the Capitol and the paranoia all Victors had - Bucky doubted anyone came in on their own steam, no matter if Sam was sincere.
Bucky thought maybe he was, but there was never any way to really know. "Depends what kind of dent you wanted to make," Bucky said after another too-long hesitation. Keepers were in Stane's lines. If Sam had been one, he'd have to do the same. He didn't know what to say to the rest. Bucky ran through the names in his head. Victor from 2, Sam said was, not is. It narrowed the list to one likely dead Victor. Riley. Bucky had never met him. "Sorry," Bucky said quietly.
Bucky watched Sam, a little nonplussed. He knew the routine, and this wasn't really it. "Officially," he said slowly. "Unofficially, you're pretty sure I'm fucked?"