Congratulations on being the first person besides a Nazi to make James Barnes go from zero to "what the fuck" in less than a few seconds. His expression holds its faint amusement, the rest of him is impassive and still. Waiting for the guns to start firing and the mortars to come down. Things that flit through walls and shadows are hardly new or terrifying, and if they were real, he'd imagine worse than Pitch there waiting for him.

'Uh-huh. Anybody ever told you that you're a terrible conversationalist? Throw me a bone here.'