"Steve's the only thing I know other than HYDRA. I know plenty about that. I remember almost all of that."
The hose was turned up a notch as he pulled back reflexively on the control lever. He could literally flip a vehicle with the strength HYDRA had given him; controlling a pressure washer by hand was nothing. He almost laughed at the thought of what they would think of him now. The Fist of HYDRA nothing more than a common handyman washing down the sides of a government-issued apartment complex.
His ma would have been proud of him.
Somehow he knew that even though he couldn't remember very much about her.
Considering carefully what to tell the woman, he decided, "I remember parts of the war. I remember the day I fell from the train. Everything about it. I remember thinking I was dead. I remember waking up, wishing I was and I remember them laughing. I don't remember your name. I do know you look like his type. I was always more of a fan of blondes. He liked brunettes. Sorry isn't something you should feel for me. I made it out. For what it's worth."