Rogue nodded slightly at the instruction, giving Bucky a small smile, before watching him go with that sad look still in her eyes. She could see the way that Bucky was reaching out, even just barely and likely without realizing it himself, and it was so hard to keep her distance. There was no way she'd be able to keep it up, she could already see that now; she was so desperate for friendship and any emotion other than hate and grief that she wouldn't be able to push him away for long.

She watched Bucky say something to Steve before she stood and moved away from the fire, to where she'd left her pack of things a decent distance from the others. It was safer to not be too close, and even if they weren't outright afraid of her, she didn't want to risk making them feel uneasy. As she settled down beside her pack, she fished out another pair of gloves she'd been provided, made of a thick material that luckily didn't tear if she bit into them in the middle of the night -- she couldn't take the chance that she might scream in her sleep, and it was as good a gag as any she would find out here in the middle of nowhere. Her jaw hurt in the morning after using it, but she'd endured worse.