The honest answer is no, but Bucky can't bring himself to voice it; not that there's much use in hiding the truth that's written plainly across his face. It's only through some miracle that he manages to stay on his feet once Steve goes to sit down, but Bucky's in no rush to join him, choosing instead to keep the slight distance and lean against the nearest tree, his shoulder pressing into the bark. Gaze turning to the ground, his chin tips downwards, and he shakes his head, the movement so slight he's not even sure it'll register.

With Steve calmer, it's more difficult for Bucky to tamp down his own ire. His skin feels tight from the effort, his every muscle tensed. It takes him a moment to pull together an answer he can stomach.

"I'll live."