Steve worked in silence until Bucky spoke - he'd figured Bucky probably wanted some time alone with his thoughts (or maybe not to think at all), even if he didn't want to be completely alone. He'd finished a sketch or two - rough ones - of the dog when Bucky did finally speak again, making Steve glance up, pencil pausing.

"No, it's - I'm sorry," he said earnestly, quietly. "I wasn't thinking. I won't call you that again." No, especially not if it brought back unpleasant memories. The point was to avoid that.

Though when Bucky asked how much Steve knew, he frowned. He looked back down at the sketchpad, thinking over his answer for a moment. Finally, though, he decided to be honest. That really was the best policy, wasn't it? "I've seen the pictures," he said, quietly. "All of them." Or, at least, most of them. Everything Bucky's mother had shown him. "But you should know, it doesn't change my opinion of you. Of what you're capable of. Or how strong you are."

If anything, it had made that opinion stronger.