"You should hear it more often, then. You can... call me, or something. If you need to hear it." The back of his neck heats again and Bucky ends up mumbling the last part of it while looking at his own feet. He's a little shaken by Tony's confidence, not only in his proposed redesign but the way he seems to feel that he'll be able to handle all the logistics around, well, everything. He's even offering a tune up and Bucky sits on a stool, a little apprehensive as he lifts his arm up onto the workbench, palm up and shoulder turned out a little bit for Tony to see as much of it as possible.

"Can you just, I don't know, talk robotics to me instead?" Sure, Bucky could make conversation but for some reason — and he can't put his finger on it — that seems wrong. He's supposed to be quiet, he thinks, supposed to let the doctors work. Any talking they have to do, they do amongst themselves, not to him. "You know, I had a dream once, ages ago. Wanted to go to MIT myself, be an engineer. I think a part of me always knew it wouldn't happen, so even just seeing this lab is blowing my mind right now."

He can't help the twitches and flinches here and there as Tony starts manipulating vents and peering inside access ports. "I know I'm lucky to have something this advanced at all. I mean, I'm a one-armed vet, but at least I'm still alive."