When Steve moves the Soldier follows. Ghosting after the other super soldier two paces behind and just slightly to his right, a comfortable distance, familiar while he tries to get his head back on track.

Walking helps, though the moment they're out of the doors he has to fight a momentary sense to flee back inside because the sudden brightness and flood of people is a sensory overload that takes a few seconds to fight off. It's not Washington in any way, it's not any city he can recognise from the subconscious store of information that he's provided in his mind.

It's also loud, making him hunch further inside the hooded jacket he's attempted to hide himself in. Step, step, breathe, eyes on Steve's broad shoulders even as his mind instinctively works at strategy and the most efficient methods to cut his way through but the press of people is gradually receding, left behind in favour of wherever Steve is taking him. Because of that he's able to catch onto and listen to what he's being told.

"They choose. How?" he asks, these new puppet masters in Hydra's stead. He can accept what he's told without understanding 'how' so much, it doesn't matter to him how they bring people back as much as the criteria for why. What is the mark of failure, what will save his life and what will end it permanently.