If anything, he wasn't being any more childish than Bucky wanted to be. Grinning at John, he turned and did the same thing, sticking his tongue out and letting a few snowflakes land on it. He sighed, looking down at the ground and reaching down to grab enough to make a snowball.

Slowly, he glanced back up at John. "I... I've lost my memory. It's coming back, slowly, in spurts. It's complicated. Things are fuzzy." If John wanted the full story, he'd share it. It wasn't the type of story people always wanted to hear.

"So, where's home?"