Steve opened his mouth to reply, but as their eyes met his hand clenched tighter, and instead a small bubble of laughter erupted from him, even as the streams of tears resumed.
"It is," he agreed, hiccupping as he tried to stop laughing, crying, or optimally both.
Finally he shook his head and took another massive bite of stew-laden bread, chewing for a moment, unable to let go just yet.
"If you tell Sam or Nat about this..." he finally swallowed, then snorted. "Well, let's be real. I can't do anything really anymore."
Finally he looked down at the gigantic bowl and shook his head, the tears ebbing slightly as he wondered at it. "Especially if I explode from being over fed. You get I don't have a pit for a stomach anymore, right?" He tentatively tried to loosen his grip as his other arm wiped at his face again, more carefully and thoroughly this time. After a long moment he did his best Frenchie impression, then snorted at the weak-sounding clucks. He'd never been able to pull it off before, either. But his grin was wide and genuine as he laughed off his own attempt.