The corners of his mouth tugged up a little at the sound of her voice. Steve didn't forget. Even before the serum when his body had betrayed him in so many ways he'd always been sharp, could always recall the smallest of details, remember things most people forgot. The serum had only amplified that. So he could remember the way she sounded with crystal clarity, he could picture her perfectly in his head - but it still wasn't the same. It wasn't real.
He wanted to reach out, touch her arm, anything - prove that she was indeed that, real. He'd thought of the people he'd lost a lot over the years, but it was her who had monopolized most of those thoughts. It'd been her that had been more than just the feeling of missing, but rather an actual physical ache of absence that had left him lying awake most nights wondering just when he'd gotten so damn dependent.
Now that he had looked at her, he found himself unable to look at anything else. It felt both unreal and too real all at once. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly bone dry and he could feel his heart as it pounded in his chest. He tried to huff a laugh at her dig but it was weak at best. "Yeah, well, only up to fifty." It was a lame attempt, but it was an attempt, and he internally cringed. Get it together, Rogers, he told himself.
He glanced down and then back up at her - and before he even realized he was doing it his hand reached out to gently brush against her arm. Real, solid. There. It felt like seeing Bucky all over again, a goddamn ghost. He dropped his head sheepishly. "Sorry, I - sorry."