He takes note of her living space, which means he notices anything that's out of place. Having been here before, he doesn't recognize the overturned frame on her coffee table, and he can't place it anywhere in the room. But he figures it's face down for a reason.

It takes a while to explain the three days he spent on the planet, though the brunt of his story comes on the third day, with the faces bloodied and sooty. Sinthia's in particular. Just a kid, beat to hell and back by the cave-ins. He stood beside a lot of good fighters, and promised to help a lot of people. When he first arrived on the ship, he didn't know how, wasn't even sure he wanted to; now, he feels like maybe he can do some good there.

"... and he's different. Different than the Bucky I knew," he finishes, dragging his hand through his hair. "But he needs someone to have his back. Someone to watch out for him. Why do I get to come home when so many of them don't?"

And maybe, just maybe, there are some remnants of survivor's guilt in his voice, after years of fighting in a war that took so many. His best friend included. "On the ship, he -- he almost killed Sinthia. I don't know what he'll do to himself, alone."

He makes eye contact. If it echoes with what she told him about Clint not even a few months earlier, at least he'll know she understands where he's coming from.