"Can't promise that," he laughs, kind of surprised she's going with it — and surprised that he's retained enough of the old accent for it to be recognizable. That's a good thing, he thinks. He'd worried that his English would have too much of a Russian accent and while it's no fault of that language, he'll always associate it with HYDRA. "I'm from Brooklyn."

But apparently being from Brooklyn isn't overly off putting, because she does come out from behind the tree. Appearance backs up the aural impression of her age but Bucky still gives her a careful once-over. And he doesn't move to get up himself, because one thing he's learned is that his physical presence can be intimidating enough without standing and looming, and that isn't what he's looking to do. So what she'll see is a man with a metal arm watching her approach. He's closed the notebook in which he'd been writing, though it still rests on his lap, and he's got a half-eaten apple in his left hand. At her question he shrugs. "Better than talkin' to a tree, don't you think?"