[Steve is having a beer from the tap. The barman either doesn't recognize either of them or is secretly hitting a panic button straight to SHIELD under the table that somehow Tony's tech isn't alerting him to, or possibly, the old fellow just does not care.] I'm glad I caught you. You look like you're holding up.

I know it's a balance that I'm not an expert at. Figuring out how our duties and personal relationships fit. And I know you aren't under obligation to make them. I guess I'm hoping there's a part of you that wants to. [There is an orange plastic bowl sitting on the counter by Steve's arm, approximately half-full of candy. One may belatedly observe that the peanut shells underfoot are mixed in with candy wrappers, and that there is a slightly shriveled paper skull attached to the wall above the highest shelf.

Steve fishes out two Hershey chocolates, little teardrops. He keeps one for himself and passes the other very contritely to his companion.]

How've you been? Really?