"Of the...commune." Bucky gestured vaguely to where he knew most of the people on this wheel lived. He was still getting used to the idea of this community. To the way they all intertwined. They'd helped each other, back on the other station, but only when they could, or when they had to. They'd always had to put themselves first. Because not doing so was a death sentence.
He watched Miguel move around, could almost feel the anxiety and nervous energy radiating from the other man. He understood it. The way it felt like he was always vibrating just under his skin, so ready for a fight or struggle that didn't seem to be coming. He'd been putting his extra energy into breaking things, between building himself a place to live and a stockpile of supplies. Just letting his rage and sadness out through destruction, because he didn't really know how else to deal with it. He'd tried to keep it contained to one store that no one seemed to be using but it occasionally spread to whatever seemed to frustrate him at the moment. He'd gone through four or five phones already.
"I never left," Bucky admit, because Miguel seemed safe. "But yeah. I found a store on Wheel 4 that restocked last month. You need something?" Bucky asked. He'd had a similar reaction to Miguel and had his own food stashes, plus some in the bag he kept slung over his good shoulder and across his chest. He only knew as much as he could see over the shared networks or through CB broadcasts. He didn't know if they were still withholding food or supplies until they decided the leftovers from the old station could be trusted.