"Misshapen I can handle," Bucky said. Dry, tasteless, or burned were the mistakes he would hope to avoid. If other him could make bread then so could he, right? Usually when he put his mind to something, it stuck, and he would complete the task. But somehow he wondered if baked goods might end up being his downfall.
"I'm not sure if we'll ever have that -- more answers than questions." Never in his life, all of his lives, had he had the fortunate circumstances of having too many answers. Some periods were more confusing than others, but that was a pretty big constant over the years. Taking a stab in the dark for the right outcome or only having the exact pieces of the puzzle he was meant to have, no questions asked.
As much as Bucky was very thankful that the monsters were gone, and he'd never wish them back again, a part of him had felt a natural release while he was out fighting. Pent up stress, tension, and other emotion that he could let out without worrying he was going to hurt someone because hurting was the point with the monsters. He could let loose without holding back.
"Everyone's doing what they can with rebuilding, and I think that's all we can really do right now. We'll get the city back the way it's meant to be one way or another."