It was one of Bucky's issues, one that he tried his best to hide without a lot of success, that he didn't always track time that well. He could look at dates and try to remember, but for some reason he never hung onto it especially well. He'd lost a lot of time after his Games, and it just seemed like one of those hangover effects he didn't shake. He knew that Cassie only got so many visits, but even if he'd just talked to Scott when she was there and should remember that she wouldn't be the next week, he didn't always.
But he caught on when Scott's only response was a hum, grimacing to himself, but not pointing it out either. Apologizing would only make Scott say it was fine, and that would be for Bucky, not him. No point.
Bucky slouched down a little more, toying with the end of his own crepe, caught between trying to look attentive, which he was, and not wanting to put Scott on the spot, since he knew how that felt.
That at least was something. Bucky could understand getting a few sleepless nights over the ex moving in the current. He had some vague idea what that felt like, anyway. Or what it might feel like, maybe?
Yeah no, he probably didn't. But he knew it had to be pretty fucking terrible, on top of everything else that was usually terrible. I'm sorry or that sucks or she doesn't know what she's missing were all cliche and stupid. She was his wife - she knew what she was missing by now. Bucky was Scott's friend, being sorry went without saying. And they both knew the many ways in which it was awful already. "Well," he said instead. "Least you know where he is if you want to kill him later." Which was terrible, but better a terrible joke than sympathy that might sound like pity, Bucky figured.