A few yards away on the edge of the green, his bag of supplies slung over his shoulder, Bucky pauses as he hears someone nearby. Whoever it is, their breathing, their movements are all amplified weirdly by the fog, and they sound injured. He could be attacked if he tries to help them, he knows. But he's going to find Steve here in the Arena eventually, and what will he say then if he walked away from someone in need of assistance?

He makes his decision and moves with speed and stealth.

A few seconds later, Combeferre will feel a cold gloved hand close around his arm as the other man emerges out of the mist. Bucky silently mouths I'll help you at him, then jerks his head away from the noise of the Cornucopia, away from the green, where presumably some shelter awaits. At least, so they can hope.