[ Bucky keeps the pace easily, walking and talking, moving further away from the crowd. He knows Rumlow's skills, that he's a clever and brutal tactician as well as a capable fighter, but he isn't worried about anything happening even if they wind up somewhere away from the watchful eyes of bystanders. ]

And here I thought there were only so many types of punching bags you'd need. [ It's a wry remark, almost... a joke? Or, at least, an attempt at forcing himself to make one. He glances aside at Rumlow, watching his face as he answers: ] Weaver's. [ One of the bars in town-- possibly the only one worth going to, for some. ] You should stop by sometime.

[ It's said with the same neutrality as everything else. An invitation, but not a particularly sincere or enthusiastic one. Just playing the part he was given when he woke up in this town, using it to try to assess Rumlow's current state. ]