Yeah, me too. It was rough for some of us, but... at least it's over.
[His answering smile is not his usual grin but rather a strange half-smile of sorts, the other side of his mouth quirking up while the other twists in a mirror of a grimace, like he can't quite decide whether to let Art's smile tug one out of him, or to hold on to the stress and worry of the past few weeks.
But when Art moves, shifting as he tries to sit up better, further, Bucky moves his hand almost instinctively, placing it to the small of his back to support him, to make sure he can sit up - after all, it would be hardly surprising if there should be lingering dizziness from his long sleep.]
... We should try to get you outta here. You've been here for long enough. [And frankly, the longer Art sits on this bed, the more Bucky can feel it building inside his chest, the panic that any moment now, Art will close his eyes and fall back to sleep- it's stupid, irrational, he knows it, and yet all he wants is to leave this room, the thoughts that he can still hear echoing around him, all the words he's spoken here and received no answer.]