He's quiet, silent and still for a long moment as he considers. Rumlow has never lied to him personally that he can recall, not that such a thing really says much. And the way that he offers it, isn't as some magic fix, a switch in some bunker that they can go and get and fix the decades of torture and theft of his very identity. And that more than anything says to Bucky that maybe- just maybe- Rumlow actually cares enough in some fucked up way. Enough to help him get his head on straight.

But he's right, of course. In that it's nothing he'll trust him with right out the gate. Not some sort of thing where Bucky trusts him enough to even really talk about it, no matter how clear it is that Rumlow knows enough about what they did to him. It was a near thing, punching him for bringing it up. But he also wanted to know just what he was offering, so here they were. Bucky still stays quiet, still.

Then he moves, walks into the kitchen- still keeping an eye on Rumlow, even if they both know it wouldn't help his cause to attack him now. He writes something on a piece of paper, and folds it. It's coordinates, and a number. He knows drop locations, picks them up just by inhabiting an area, and a lot of them are old things from his hydra days. This isn't one of them. It's a sort of risk, but not a particularly large one. Bucky knows he's good enough to pick up a reason to run long before it comes down to it. He hands over the slip of paper with a slight shrug to his broad shoulders.

"You have twenty-four hours. Briefing and a burner phone. If I like the specs, I'll call you."

It's one chance. It's also a forceful changing of the rules he was under as the Winter Soldier. He could stand being Winter, because it was a piece of identity he'd stolen when there had been so little to have, and that meant something. And insisting on Bucky just gave Rumlow information he wasn't sure he wanted him to have. But the only way he was doing this was if he got choice and information.

"Now will you get out?"