[He remembers him wrong? Steve frowns to himself as he turns those words over in his mind. It sounds more like a riddle than a real statement at first, but the silver lining is that Bucky remembers him at all. That's one step in the right direction, even if these memories are supposedly wrong.

It might just be that they're confusing memories, as opposed to plain wrong, but when Bucky starts in about blood splattered on hands, Steve's frown deepens. He never had TB, even if his mother did, so it's not like he'd been coughing up blood all the time. What else would have stained his hands?

Steve's head jerks up slightly when it clicks, and he glances over with both eyebrows raised.] Was it paint? I used to... [He practically trips over himself trying to get the words out.] Before we joined the army, my plan was to go to art school. I sketched and painted a lot. Maybe that's what you're seeing. [If it's something as tame as that, then Steve's actually relieved. Better Bucky remembers his artistic habits than his illnesses, or even worse -- all of the horrible things Bucky was no doubt made to do over the years.]

But what you do mean, you remember me wrong? [Steve would like a little clarification on that, since something about it's nagging at him.]