Steve could just picture the tiny little Tony heart throb. The picture was a bit off. He'd been frozen then, and he lacked the more recent historical references to properly picture a boy from that time period. He wound up looking rather like he was from the twenties, but most definitely Tony. A cheeky thing, who kissed the girls and made them cry, tugging on their pigtails, and sneaking off from their parents.
He chuckled, "Do you still play that game? I do have a weakness for coloured pencils," he teased, rubbing at the back of his neck with his uninjured hand.