She can't help the quiet chuckle that escapes her lips when she feels his head tip into her fingers. Like a puppy that's not done being scratched behind the ears. But she obliges him, because of course she does, her fingers curling back into his hair to rub against his scalp in idle, meaningless patterns.

There aren't many opportunities to just sit and let it be quiet, so she's not in any particular rush. Especially because the other end of this is a lot of figuring out how she got here and why. Maybe even if she has to go back or if she could just...be here. Selfishly.

His question is met with a thoughtful hum. She doesn't bother correcting him that there's no past tense when it comes to the way she feels about the Bucky from her universe. He's been gone for years and he's still the only one for her. Apparently no matter what world she's on. After a moment, a smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. "I think he'd be amused, actually. 'If it has to be someone else, at least it's me.'"