Bucky's memories of high school aren't the firmest, but he takes a little offense to the idea that everyone was shallow. He remembers caring about a lot more than looks back then. He'd like to think that his looks were only part of why he'd gotten so much attention. Sure, he'd taken pride in them, but he'd taken just as much pride in how he'd treated people.

"I guess I had a lot of dates." He shrugs and stubbornly doesn't react to that wording, because it's not the first time since he woke up here that it's seemed like a guy was, what? Flirting with him a little? He's not really sure what to do with that.

Anyway, Bucky might not be outwardly rebellious, but he'd like to think that he'd never been the kind of guy to go along with anything mindlessly, even where Steve had been concerned. He'd always made his own decisions. It's just that he and Steve had agreed about an awful lot of things.

"And yeah, got wounded a few times." The arm is probably the most obvious, but he'd taken his share of other bodily damage. He remembers having to get stitches in the field, having to muffle his pain because they didn't know what enemies could be nearby. Then there was Zola's table.

"So how'd that work out for you? That whole being a rebel in the armed forces thing."