Bucky looks up at Steve, prepared for the sharp crack and dull ache that will follow the realignment. He's done it to himself enough times. He knows how badly it will hurt. Crying out isn't an option in this context. Not that he would anyway. That's been burned out of him along with so much else.

His eyes scan the woods around them, looking for other patrols. The last thing they need is to be caught while they're tending the one wound that cannot wait.

"Just do it." He growls out. He doesn't even flinch when the shoulder is reduced back to what it should be. Instead, he pushes himself up and puts a gun in that hand. Better to be armed. It hurts, but he'll be able to fire if it becomes necessary.

He really hopes it becomes necessary. He's willing to take out a few more HYDRA agents before he's done with this base.

"We should go."