An island thing. That only certain residents are compelled to tell the truth? As unlikely as anything else in this place. Even if I hadn't been prepped for this kind of thing happening, the genuine tension, the pain written into every line of Bucky's frame and face would be enough.

"I don't understand," I say after a longer moment than I mean, but follow it quickly with, "and I won't ask you to explain. I would never-" I can't say let that happen again, because as the current situation demonstrates neatly, it would be a lie.

"-do that, to you. But when this wears off, we have to talk."