[ His gaze accidentally drifts down when her movement shoves her bosom forward in her shirt, and then something just flat-out glitches in the back of his head. Cleavage. His best friend has cleavage, and holy shit, something just doesn't parse about that; she'd never had the sort of figure that men could sneak a peek at, before, but now—

Suddenly self-conscious, Bucky drags his attention back to her face. Again. He exhales. ]

Okay. Shit. I'm glad to see you here, Steph. Even if it's the last place I actually expected to see you show up—

[ This place. This place, with its misery, hollow-eyed soldiers and limping convalescents and mud and the knowledge that, sooner or later, they all get fed back into the machine again, and not all of them will be back a few months from now for the next high-kicking entertainment revue.

There's still something stunned in his demeanour, as he tries to wrap his mind around it. She wanted to help. Of course she did. It had driven her crazy when he'd enlisted, going to the place where she couldn't follow, even as a nurse. Knowing how inevitable her choice would've been, once it was offered, doesn't make him any less shocked by the transformation. ]

Are you... The the asthma, and your heart murmurs, and everything. How do you feel?