“Bucky,” he says and, after a moment of thought, pats the spot next to him. It’s not something he’d normally do but nothing about life has been normal since arriving here. “My name’s Bucky. But Brooklyn is fine.”

Part of him too is curious to see if she’ll recognize the name, put it together with Captain America. He’s not sure if he wants that or not, or what he might do if she does.

“Not totally sure who else is here, not really. Seems to be only about a dozen of us, maybe fewer. Haven’t met them all in person yet, but everyone I’ve met has agreed so far: we’re not sure why we’re here, or even where here really is.”