"Red hair. Real tight black getup. She knows you, I guess. Future you, at least." Tom scrubbed a hand through his hair, a nervous tic of a motion. Trying to think of what to say was difficult. He was no wordsmith on his best day and Bucky was stubborn.

He could give---and had given---him all kinds of forgiveness and it still wouldn't be enough. Tom didn't want it shoved back at him again.