[The air squeezes out of his lungs, between the request and the touch, his mouth dry, but he nods and reaches for the cuffs, then the gun - which he checks, quickly, efficiently. She has been careful with her ammo. Not surprising.]

[Bucky's eyes snap back to hers, and he takes her wrists without looking down on them, gently with the bitten one, applying the cuffs. He squeezes her fingers, warning that he's moving away, and jogs quickly to take the nearest container with fuel. Ending her life wouldn't be enough, to fulfill his promise. And, since he doesn't know how much time he will have, after, he'll be ready to do it immediately, his mind working hard to come up with how to do it with the least time in pain for her.]

[A consideration he's never made, not consciously. (He's never killed an ally, before.) (He's never executed anyone, before.)]

I... [no. Words are difficult. He takes a deep breath.] Back of the neck. Sever the spine and the feeling of pain.

[Almost asking for permission, or at least consent - or comment, if she has another preference. The rest... the other two words - they just won't cross his lips. Forgive me.]