Bucky is genuinely not sure how a cat can remind him so damn much of Steve Rogers. And yet, she kind of does.

At least he mostly knows how to handle that kind of thing. He has had a lot of practice.

"Okay," he agrees, approaching her slowly - with intent, not shy or scared, but still telegraphing his motions as he reaches out and... well, he doesn't really know how to pick up a cat, but he's seen other people do it and he figures she'll adjust if he's doing it wrong, so he tries to slide one hand under her chest and scoop up her back legs with the other. There's no point in doing anything but holding her close - he trusts that she won't squirm away, and they're both covered in fire retardant anyway, so it's not like she can get more on him.

And speaking of, "This goop," he points out. "I figure it's probably not... really a good idea to just walk around covered in it, you know? We should wash it off. The water should be hot if we're quick about it."

He starts making his way - carefully, so he doesn't slip, but fortunately his super soldier reflexes are good, even in a foam-covered cockpit - toward the door, aiming to pick his way down the hallway to the single crew bathroom. "Besides, this way only one of us leaves gross footprints to clean up later."

And then, "What's your name? I'm Bucky."