The description startled him. His brow creased and knotted as he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to make the words fit what little he'd remembered. Were they dear friends?

Comrades in arms, certainly. Saving each others lives probably made them good friends, yeah. Not in the same way as the closeness he'd had with Rogers, but still.

He shook his head, both in answer to her question and to try to break free of his own circling thoughts. "Nothing you want to know the details of. You don't look any older than I remember. When did you get snatched from?"