"You got the Frankenstein treatment, too, huh?" Peter plays with the condensation on his glass, tracing droplets absently. "I got metallic arms fused to my torso. Responded to my thoughts, as well as having some anger issues of their own."

He hadn't seen Bucky in a good while, and he winces in sympathy at Nebula's plight. "Me neither. So sitting here and drinking in our underwear it is."