Ya were...are...yer stronger Steph. God, just... [ She's laid gently back on the couch, and her first motion once on the settled is to wave her shaky arms in vague, winding gestures. Her voice held a tone of sad admiration.] Put any male bodybuilder ta shame, doll. Anyone, really...and 'ust...muscly strong, ya know like...like strong strong. 'the kind that cryo didn't fuck up.

[ As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted it; Stephanie didn't need her hardass humor right now. Always, always, always hurting Stephanie; she just wants to be worthy of that smile of that little girl from Brooklyn that wasn't afraid of anything - worthy of Captain America's smile - but here she is piss-ass drunk on the Captain's couch. ]

I got it, I got it...I'll be here. ....d'ja say Disney? Well... shit. Cool.

[ Waiting for Steph to retrieve the milk, her eyes lazily wandered around the barely-lived in apartment, spotting a few boxes here and there but not much else. She thought it was funny, it's not like how it used to be at all...no sketchbooks, no pictures pinned to the wall, no stray plates that Bucky forgot to clean and that Steph was trying to ignore in hopes that Bucky would take the cue and clean them. (Steph almost always cleaned them.) It was almost like she was ready to pack up and move again at a moments notice -]

[ The panic hit her like a freight train, Moving out, shipping out, gotta go to war, Buck, gotta leave Steph behind, gotta do your duty or die trying, it's war, Bucky. It's war. ]

[ She screamed, and not even a proper scream - a rough, gritty scream coming from a voice that got little use and was still feeling the sting of retching up a past meal.]