Honest. He felt like the worst liar right then, lying with omission and vague truths. But he was trying to keep a low profile, didn't want to deal with the celebrity that 'Captain America' now had; or worse, the disbelief if he told anyone who he really was. He was just a regular joe, and he liked that feeling, and was he really hurting anyone by having a casual conversation that maybe wasn't the entire truth? He didn't think so, and, he justified to himself, it wasn't as if she hadn't been equally vague, if not more so, about what she'd gone through, was still going through, from the sounds of it. Two people, commiserating on how life had dealt them crummy hands, and they were trying to make the best of it.

Where had she gone, he wondered, that let her identify with his story, that had made her feel disconnected from her world? This, at least, he knew better than to ask about; whether soldier or civilian, he'd learned how to spot grief, and longing, maybe because he felt it himself still. He knew how to handle it, to let it sit, just under the surface, permeating but not overwhelming, before it slowly ebbed away again.

"I didn't... exactly grow up around technology, so that was a big change, coming back to cell phones smaller than the palm of your hand, laptops and the internet. Google." He flashed her a bright, boyish grin, inviting her in on his excitement. "I love Google. Any time someone says something I don't understand, I write it down, then Google it." He'd been confused at first when Tony had offhandedly told him to 'Google' something, but for some reason he'd latched onto the term with gusto. He still enjoyed going to libraries, the hush and soft whisper of paper soothing and familiar, but nowadays he spent as much time using a computer as he did the reference catalogue.