[ Bucky can't tell her,the half-blurted confession now stuck in his throat. His fingers clench against his lap for a moment, the other hand lifting the cigarette so he can pull smoke into his lungs, and he feels guilty for a moment, stupid, the sluggish pull of whiskey in his veins making it impossible to keep his thoughts straight. ]

I ain't sure it's even illegal here, I don't - . [ The more he's drunk, the thicker his accents gotten, a proper old fashioned New York thing. ] I jus' know it is where m'from, and I don't - awh hell, forget it. I'm a stupid shit.