He feels the way she tenses up, but he'd been expecting it, more or less. It's not pity that prompted the question. Pity isn't something he can really appreciate either. Being seen as less capable, more damaged... It makes you feel like you're exactly those things.

He watches the way she lifts her chin a little, then looks out at the range as well.

The words hit him square in the chest. Of all the things he expected - that she missed her family maybe, or that she'd lost someone she cared about - he couldn't have predicted that. Evelyn seems too young, too brave and clever and alive. Then again, he should know better than anyone that none of those things matter.

"He said you were having a rough time, that's all," he says. He doesn't know what to say, but he's being honest with her, at least. Steve would never betray her trust, not even to him, and he doesn't want her to start thinking everyone knows by now.

He disengages from her when they reach the edge of the range, crouching to unlock his weapon cache. The words come more easily, when his hands are busy: "Do you remember when I first got here and you fished me out of the pool?"

"I dunno if I ever told you, but that fall I took - not from heaven." He glances up at her, the corner of his mouth quirking briefly. "It was from a moving train, a few thousand feet up. I spent a good few months here being pretty sure Wonderland was my last stop. I'm not saying I know exactly how you feel right now, or that's gonna make you feel better or anything. I'm just saying..."

He pulls the case open. It's neatly packed, and contains: one rifle, custom built, a compact grenade launcher, a sleek handgun, and some ammunition for each.

"Help yourself. This round's on me."

Drinks, weapons... same difference, right?