Bucky doesn't try to pet the fox, to his credit. It isn't a pet. It's not some stray dog he's going to win over with kind words, and he has nothing on him to offer a wild animal. But he lifts his hands off his weapon and the floor to rest his arms on his knees. It's the best gesture he can offer a thing that shouldn't even technically be capable of that level of reason.

But then he nods. The fox nods and Bucky's eyes widen in surprise in spite of himself. Great. He's having a conversation with a fox. An actual one now. It isn't even one-sided. Either he's hallucinating or it's some kind of crazy German spy fox, which would have sounded ridiculous to him up until he actually dealt with Hydra. Now it actually seems more feasible than a man with a red skull for a face. They had sniffer dogs. It wasn't that far of a stretch.

He might have asked a few less questions if he had expected the animal to respond.

"Well that's... new. Can you understand me?"