[It was hard to avoid eye contact without reverting to being a child and looking up at the ceiling. He huffed at her, a silent but weighty expulsion of air through his nose, arms still folded.

Then he sighed, this time with less annoyance, arms dropping and a hand coming up to rub over his eyes.]

I'm sorry. It's not you, Natasha. It's this... it's this.

[His hands gestured outward, trying to take in their entire location with a sweep.]

Tell me there's a bad guy. Point me at him and I'm fine. Recon is doable. But what am I supposed to do about experiments that might make me... that deal with that?

[Because one of the things he'd thought about since finding out the truth of the place was them putting him in a room with someone who, like him, didn't want to play along and them doing something to him. Making him Bucky, but with sex. The idea of him doing that to anyone made him sick to his stomach.]