He stares at Steve like he is dreaming. He wonders if he asks Steve to pinch him what might happen. There's a slight tremor in his voice, one he can't push away when he speaks. Peggy, he thinks to himself. Focus on Peg and talk about her. That's easy, wasn't it? She was a pal, a friend to the end. They could have a conversation about Peggy and that would be normal.

Who was he kidding? A conversation with a dead friend is never normal.

He swallows, nodding his head in response. "Trust me pal, she has." He reaches up, rubbing absentmindedly at his jaw as he thinks about that time in her room, long after Steve had disappeared. Much as he hated himself for doing it, he'd kept a secret from her. A doozy at that. And oh, did she make him pay for it. Well deserved, but still painful. "Don't ever tempt her right hook. Or her left one."

And then there it is. Steve's reaching over and squeezing his shoulder. He's real. Steve is really real. Not at the bottom of a cold body of water, being looked for by a potentially madman millionaire who has been told many times to just give up already.

"I... I need a drink." Forcing a smile, Howard gently extricates Steve's hand from his shoulder and stumbles over to the bar. Leaning against it, he orders the strongest, oldest scotch he can get his hands on. He downs it fast, feeling the familiar burning feel of the liquid in his throat before he orders a second to take back to the table with him.

When he returns, he sits down a little closer to Steve, grabbing the chair beside him instead of the one across from him. Reaching out, he takes one of Steve's hands in his, marveling at just how big it is. "This is real. I'm not just dreaming? I'm in space and Captain America isn't dead? I think this might call for a toast. Peggy isn't here somewhere, waiting to hit me again, is she?"