Bucky glances at the path of Hicks' thumb against the dark mark along his throat too, placed there for everyone and their mother to see. The mark that says they're not good enough to pick up jobs or do much of anything without some Dominant's approval, like they gotta go asking for permission just to survive. Bucky looks away - too quickly, he hopes, for Hicks to catch him staring - and leans against the doorframe, trying hard to resist the urge to scratch at his skin, or worse, slide his palms slow and nice down along the path left by the rain.

Bad enough he started to react in front of a girl like that. He's sure as hell not doing that in front of Hicks. He's not about to make off with the other soldier's jacket. Bucky eyes the alleyways, searching for a possible path that might be covered until he gets back to the assigned housing. There's gotta be something.

Bucky can think of a few people he'd wish this on, starting with Zola, Schmidt, then all the rest of every single Nazi flunky.

"You're a lot kinder than I'd be. I can think of a chunk of Nazis who'd this would be too good for," Bucky grumbles. The rain looks like it's slowing - maybe - further off, so if he waits a couple more minutes, he can scramble out. Bucky grimaces, and shrugs. "Month, I guess? My guys are probably looking for me, so I'm just trying to make it until they figure things out. Or until I find a way out. Some people told me they've been here a couple years."