Despite himself a breathy chuckle escapes his throat, a tired sound that's almost more dry than amused — but it still counts. A little shake to the head, some shifting can be heard from his side of the wall, just himself bringing a knee up to rest his elbow on it. Just his head thumping back softly against the concrete behind him.

"Thank you," He says finally, earnestly. He might not have apologized in so many words, but gratitude he feels the need to share. It means, of course, that Bucky owes him one. That's how these things work, a debt is paid with a debt. If he didn't already like Steve maybe he'd be more frustrated by that fact, but as it stands Steve's earned himself a more or less permanent form of backup. "Though frankly we'll probably both be outta our damn minds by the time Tuesday rolls around again. Hope you're up to date on word games or you've got a vivid imagination and you like your own hand."

Because there's nothing, not a god damn thing to do here. Eat when they provide food. Sleep more than any human really ought to sleep. Think, and masturbate. That's it. That's an entire week of their lives.