Most technology was new to Steve; he'd heard about computers during the war, but back then it had referred to the women doing the computing of numbers, not the things that only vaguely resembled typewriters with television screens referred to now as 'desktops', or notebook-sized 'laptops' - even cell phones, which he'd once equated to a handie-talkie, were more computer than a real telephone, they just happened to include the ability to call people. And remember their numbers. And not have to listen to Mrs. Stultzman moaning to her sister in Chicago about the stray cats while waiting impatiently on the party line.

Steve gestured enthusiastically with his free hand at her, still grinning. "Yes, exactly! Tony-- er, a friend--acquaintance--friend?" he really wasn't sure what to call Tony Stark, honestly. Pain in his ass? Thorn in his side? Self-proclaimed governor to the contemporary world? He liked Tony well enough, now...but the man was exhausting, and Steve was thankful they'd only seen each other twice after the Battle. "He's always calling me with updates about our--some mutual friends, and then he goes off on random tangents, and he throws out these references that I can tell are references, but obviously I don't know them, and then there's just this silence, like he's waiting for me to laugh, or fill in the blank, or something, and then he'll sigh, and say 'look it up Cap' and then give me the source. It's so frustrating." In his enthusiasm, Steve had begun to talk faster, letting his guard down a little.

Steve sighed, glancing down at his drink but not taking a sip. "He's a good guy, all of my--friends are, they just... don't get it."