"Let's go with your luck instead of my own then," he suggests; Bucky's had far too much of piss poor luck lately. He's definitely tired of being on the run and while it feels like being here should be a reprieve, in actuality it's been anything but.

He relaxes minutely when the other man cedes; it's hardly a battle but it still feels good to win at something. Even better at it being something inconsequential, something normal. Normal like a coffee shop encounter; normal like an introduction. "Bucky," he offers, along with the offer of a handshake. "I will try not to spill more coffee on you."