[This guy really was a boy scout, wasn't he? Only someone with a lot of patience would volunteer with a bunch of broken people who were only in art therapy because their doctors or shrinks had forced it on them. He had a gorgeous smile and a body to die for, but it was the genuinely nice personality - or so it seemed - that made Bucky swallow just a little too hard sometimes.

Not that he would ask him out. A guy like this had to be taken, and probably wasn't even gay. And even if he was, and happened to be single, there's nobody on Earth who'd want James Barnes now. Not with all his issues and his stupid scarred up body.]

Where do you work?

[He figures that's not too personal a question. Maybe Steve is some big-shot artist with actual gallery time.]

I know the streets around here pretty well, maybe I could help you find a better route. I mean, if you needed one.

[He pulls the little sugar jar towards him and tips no less than eight teaspoons of the stuff into his coffee. He likes it black and so sweet that he can feel the cavities forming.]