Where did she even get the rock from? Whatever. He seems interested enough to stare and squint, but doesn't ask in the end. He starts down the stairs, grunting when she points out the photograph. His dog tags read his full name, James Buchanan Barnes and she'll be able to get a good look at it as he makes his way past her and steps into the lounge.

"Yeah. I know. Congratulations," he says dryly. She won the lottery here, stuck with the asshole of the neighbourhood. Look, he didn't choose any of this, and clearly neither did she.

"I'm your man now." Tossing the pillow onto the edge of the couch, he rubs his face a few times tiredly. He realises she might have a hundred questions, and he's not exactly being fully cooperative and eager and enthusiastic about this sudden new arrangement. He'll warm up to her eventually. For now he doesn't fully trust her. And truth be told he doesn't much like the idea of a complete stranger living with him. Figuring him out. Seeing him like this.

"When did you get here?"