"She is dead." He states, an emotionless quality to his voice, reminiscent of a tone Bucky used liberally in their first encounters. "I had to kill her. I have to kill you." He warns, and he's not sure why he feels he ought to. He makes it sound like a favor, but it's a duty and it's a burden and it's all he can do to free himself from their manipulations.

He's desperate and compromised to the point of mindless murder to protect himself from a fate that feels worse than a thousand deaths. He circles back toward the lake, hesitating when Bucky presents the question and biting back all sorts of honest words in lieu of ones the Capitol has put there.

"I was broken. They.. fixed me." He spits out, fists clenching at his sides. "It is better this way. And I will be better for it when I send all of you to your graves." He meets Bucky's eyes with anger, finally making his move forward. He moves fast for a big guy, hand snapping behind him for his hunting knife so he can try to get in close and plunge it into Bucky's flesh.