He sees the plea. He nods and takes the robot, balancing it under his arm as he works his fingers through the wires.

Bruce hasn't met the boy, but it still hurts to hear what sounds like a child pleading for his life. No, no, I don't want to die yet, Bucky I thought we were friends, don't let him do this, I'm not going to come back, please I don't want to die on and on and on. Crying and screaming. Bruce scowls, concentrating on breathing as he digs to find the circuit. The robot starts making breathy, panicky breathing sounds, like it's become short of breath despite not breathing, and it lets out a blurted, teary--Help me!--before Bruce yanks the damn chip out and crushes it in his fist. The voice stops short. The room is silent, and Bruce needs to keep breathing.

"Well..." He takes another deep breath. "He sounds like a cute kid."

He'll need to meditate before he can cannibalize the parts. Breathing. Air. In and out. He glances at Bucky. "How are you holding up?"