A tiny part of James' mind baulked at the fear he inspired, like he was looking upon a monster. But a large part of him still didn't care. He was a weapon, and at the moment his sole purpose was taking care of Steve Rogers (though fuck only knew why), and if that meant scaring or even killing people, then so be it.

"They suspect, they don't know. I'm not here to kill you."

He hesitated a moment, possibly the most human thing he'd done in decades when he'd never hesitated before.

"I need you to hide someone in the resistance."