Ah. Steve. The love interest. The only person Barnes ever spoke about like that. Tony isn’t one to judge. Well, he is, but usually based on intelligence, not on what someone wants to do with their life. “Still not a doctor,” Tony says.

He’d only spent a few weeks with Barnes before they had moved him to a supposedly better kept, more secure area where their captors attempted to get him to do for them what he did for the American Army. Tony had gotten really good at bullshitting them all, so well that he’d had no idea Barnes escaped and dragged those compatriots he’d been captured with to safety until after he himself had escaped and found their cell empty.

Not that he’s bitter. They had no idea what happened to him, and honestly, he’d been treated a lot better than they had after his accommodations had been upgraded.

“I mean, I’ve been dabbling with this sort of bone regeneration machine so we can live in a world where Star Trek and Harry Potter are real— Still in Brooklyn?”

Maybe he’s been checking up.

“Because I’ve got a present for you.” Dark eyes drift up and across the seamless prosthetic he’s been obsessed with. “I can come out tomorrow?”