Bucky is wary of the grifflings, to say the least. He's only letting Becca play with them sparingly, and supervised, fueled by a niggling worry that they're too big and play too rough for his small, light-sensitive, toothless little lizard. He's been trusted with the care of a living being, and needless to say, that's new for him.

He's on his way back to his and Natasha's place with a canvas bag of supplies from the market, Becca curled up in his shirt again, when the little ball of feathers and fluff rolls out into his path. Thanks to his reflexes, he manages to stop before he can run her over, and stoops down to offer metal fingers to steady her. If she bites that hand, it's not a big deal.

"Woah, hey there, little thing," he laughs quietly, looking up as Sam approaches to fuss over her. Becca is curious at the commotion, and pokes her head out of the neckline of his tunic, then sinks her claws in his clothing and scampers down his arm, peering curiously at the other dragon. In the light, her scales take on an almost rainbow shimmer, like an oilslick.

"Don't worry about it. I've seen plenty of fussy hatchlings lately. Hey, Sam."