"Chair," he instructs, pointing over to one that is actually used for the very rare live model requests they get. He laughs to himself about sitting there and the one lone request he'd gotten for him to be the model. Refused, of course. But it's just the two of them, now. And this is a dream so there's no need to say anything more.

"Water...sink in the back. For brushes." But it's also drinkable. Has to be with how often people get paint all over themselves. Especially him.

Once Steve is placed down, he'll watch Bucky with the steady, awed look of someone too drunk to hide each emotion playing out inside their head. This is a weird dream. Feels real but at the same time it can't be. Absolutely can't be. After all...

"You have your left arm. 's new. I guess you're from ...longer ago. Earlier dream." He yawns loudly, unbothered. "Explains a lot..."