Re: Bucky/Steve - Christmas morning
“That one is, yeah. Not all of them. The first place we lived in — you know, the place that was across the street from that deli and the little Italian market? That one’s one. Condos now, high rise.” That had been depressing. About as depressing as his the Brooklyn Dodgers not being a thing anymore, actually.
He shrugged the thought off and nudged the sketchbook in Bucky’s lap. “There some of us. Your family — I can draw them for you, but there’s nothing in there right now.” He didn’t have all his sketchbooks, not the old, old ones. He’d never gotten those back once he’d been found. Frankly, they were probably collectors items now, stored in glass cases and museums, owned by someone who’d bid highest. The thought upset him, but he tried not thinking on it too hard