Bucky's brows drew together in confusion briefly at the statement. He'd think it a joke if it hadn't been delivered without even a skipped beat or bat of an eye. He paid the slight tension absolutely no mind. Even his Handlers, at times, treated him like an attack dog that might bite them--truth was, he just might now that memories were flooding back. But this man was, as far as he could tell, not HYDRA. He lacked a distinct logo and didn't quite fit the bill. At all.

"Do they usually not?" The question was out before he could mull over whether he should even speak again or not. Well, okay then. He'd spent the past several months avoiding people, trying to put his own mind back together, and now he was just going to carry on a bizarre conversation with Mr. Backwater Gent with a heart of Gold.

Upon the order, he immediately acted, picking up the backpack and carrying it outside. He dropped it off and only then did he realise that he'd followed through without question. He'd have to focus on shaking that lingering twitch of the programming. Not that Daryl had been wrong in the command or that he would have disagreed with it, but had it been something worse, he would have still acted.

He returned to Dixon's side, moving to help him carry whomever he started dragging out now. "Do you remember boarding this craft or who owned it?"