It might have been difficult to tell, but Bucky really had come a long way in terms of his mental and emotional state. When he'd been living in Bucharest, things hadn't been exactly great. Memories were coming back left and right, guilt, shame and horror were all consuming and some days it was all he could do to just get up off the mattress in his run down flat and take a shower. Going down to the market in town was even more of a daily victory. While he still had his moments and definitely still had a long way to go, Bucky was in a better place now than he'd been in a long time. Hopefully that meant that a lot of his personality traits would find their way back to the surface and pierce through the barriers he had so firmly in place otherwise.
"I know you, well, sort of you," he said. "A different you. I met Barton briefly before. He stood with Steve when we faced a great deal of opposition. I didn't know him-know him. But he was a good guy. I liked his humor. It was kind of like how mine was, is, should be." Bucky shrugged a little. "These are good." He'd taken one of the Pocky sticks and eaten most of it.
"Have you experienced this sort of thing before? You seem to have some base knowledge of these convention things."