I can't for the life of me remember the name of that place in Midtown we used to talk about. Sully's? Sunny's? It was just milkshakes and french fries.
No, it's not. I know it's the middle of the night, but I could go for a home cooked meal. We had Denny's one night and if you haven't had the pleasure, I can tell you it doesn't count.
Steve's not really out at night for decent reasons ever, so this is kind of a nice excursion. He almost wishes he hadn't mentioned the eggs. Maybe if Barnes hasn't already started scrambling, he could talk the guy into something else.
Either way, he's leaning an arm on the door frame knowing full well he's being made to wait.
This is what he gets for craving eggs in the middle of the night, isn't it? A little heartburn named Bucky Barnes. ]
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