"Sounds cool," he says, meaning it truthfully. He sure does wish his arm could deflect bullets. Maybe then he'd be back in the North Blue with Law where he was supposed to be, rather than brought back from the near-dead in this place.

"I've seen a few well-made prosthetics, but none were really good enough to actually take the place of a real arm. You must have one hell of a blacksmith."

Farther down in the expansive room, he spots what looks like a firing range - so Bucky, don't mind his wandering attention because that arm is amazing but now he's wondering if he can still aim as well as he ought to be able to after being dragged through hell and back. Whoever patched him up did an impressive job, he won't doubt that, but how long until he's back in top shape? Maybe this isn't a bad place to test himself.