He can’t help but agree with her; his impression is very much the same. For all they know, the fruit could have less than savory side effects. But as far as Bucky is concerned, it’s worth the risk regardless. How else did anyone figure out what food could or couldn’t be eaten centuries before? Besides, he’s more than comfortable accepting a painful death in trade of such a satisfying bite of fruit. Well, maybe not death, but he doubts it’d come to that anyway.

“Can’t say that I have.” He takes another bite and chews thoughtfully, swallowing before continuing. “My sisters loved apple, so that’s all we ever ended up making. With the occasional exception of pecan or pumpkin for special company.”

Being short a hand, he bites into the fruit again, this time without piercing through it, holding it in his mouth as he squats and starts collecting the peaches near his feet. There’s far more than he and Peggy could reasonably take back, and it’s astounding how genuinely bountiful even the single tree is.