Jason grins. If his own fair youth has left him too frail and delicate to resist the flu, he's pretty sure Bucky's incredible old age is fair game. Still, Bucky could kick his ass eight ways from Sunday one-armed, and Jason waits a beat before deciding it's safe to tease.

"Really?" he asks, pulling a tiny wrench from his own pocket. He's been meaning to make Lux one of the birds like they sell in the stores, and it's a better fit for the loose gear beneath his fingers. "Did you say shit like 'guvnuh' and 'good chap?'"