There was a sense of dread settling into Bucky's chest as he watched T'Challa approaching. He knew what it meant if the King was here, and his guard was carrying something more than big enough to hold an arm. He'd stopped what he was doing to watch them approach, dressed in his usual attire; pants, sleeveless shirt, and a shawl tied off to the side to hide the place where his left arm used to be. He was dirty, but minding a farm was hard work.

But then, in an instant, he was in a completely different place. He blinked a few times, turning slowly to take in the scene around him, but nothing seemed... wrong. Aside from the sudden change. "What the hell?" He sounds more tired than annoyed.