Rumlow liked his head space right where it was, thank you very much, and he eyed Sam out of the corner of his eye. Nothing had been tried yet, but how close did one have to be before that little ability developed? He wasn't interested. Only Rogers would delve that deep and not get lost as far as he was concerned.

"I've got a few skills left," he said simply, which was pretty much that he knew how to hide. His clothing, his bound wrists and the fact he had no supplies certainly wouldn't serve him well, but he figured he could take his chances. It was better than a CIA hole as far as he was concerned.

He turned his head to look Sam over, and he nestled his nose into the jacket collar again, breathing deep. His eyes half-closed a moment before he shook himself out of it enough to answer. "Sitting on your ass hoping I fall in a ditch and die. Or sitting on your ass thinking how unlucky you are. One of the two."