Steve is quiet for a moment, choosing the words to say. The room with the specimens bothers him greatly, and he is not pleased about all that's unfolded -- but there is just so little to go on that he's been prodding around, finding out just what he can. She steps closer, and he frowns, just a little.
"I don't have it anymore." He confesses at length, because he finds that he cannot quite lie to Peggy, not when she looks at him like that, and what she says next -- because he has missed her, too; so much, all the damn time. He thinks of her funeral, and he thinks of when she smiled at him, discovering him over and over again.
"And I've missed you, too." He smiles, and it's bittersweet, an ache that doesn't go away. "How much did the previous me that was here tell you?"
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Steve is quiet for a moment, choosing the words to say. The room with the specimens bothers him greatly, and he is not pleased about all that's unfolded -- but there is just so little to go on that he's been prodding around, finding out just what he can. She steps closer, and he frowns, just a little.
"I don't have it anymore." He confesses at length, because he finds that he cannot quite lie to Peggy, not when she looks at him like that, and what she says next -- because he has missed her, too; so much, all the damn time. He thinks of her funeral, and he thinks of when she smiled at him, discovering him over and over again.
"And I've missed you, too." He smiles, and it's bittersweet, an ache that doesn't go away. "How much did the previous me that was here tell you?"