"It was..." he pauses, thinking back to that hellish introduction to Panem, the confusion and assumptions he'd made. "It is not so different than what was before."

He remembered and he didn't sleep in the ice but he still killed by command. Worse, he truly died by command. He could say all this but doesn't, as his throat tightens at the memories and the constant oppressive air grows heavier around Bucky, threatening to stifle his ability to breathe. It's good that Bruce doesn't ask, better that he offers something else as a distraction.

"I like learning this skill." he finally says as the seconds tick by in the wake of the offer. Cooking is useful and does not cause harm like almost everything else he knows how to do. "Please."