"Howard Stark?" the voice saying this had a confident and happy air to it but Howard didn't bother turning around to acknowledge its presence, instead he kept fiddling with the wires in his arm, one-handed it was a bit complicated but he had time and right now he did nothing that could do him a lot of harm. If he did manage to destroy his arm beyond repair he had still enough replacements and if those ran out he'd just build a new one or ask Tony. It was a thought that no longer bothered him as it would have done 60 years ago. This way he could be forever young, whatever he was supposed to do with that.
"Howard?" the voice sounded again, wary this time, and he distantly wondered why Steve hadn't stepped in, yet, although the voice did sound closer. He should feel happiness at hearing a voice he hadn't heard for 70 years but he couldn't quite manage it.
A body moved into his peripheral vision and finally stepped in front of him. Howard didn't look up.
"Can I help you, Howard?" Steve asked him carefully and a hand placed itself on his lower arm, right under where his skin was open, along with the artificial flesh. At least he could feel the contact.
Maybe he was still in shock after all even though his body hadn't been organic anymore for the last 40 years, limb for limb he'd been re-done over time. Healthy flesh replaced by metal to conserve his genius. Two bright inventors were better than one or so they said. Some things were harder to get used to then others, he supposed. Immortality spread out before him like a thick and stifling fog. He wanted to laugh hysterically at the same time the inventor in him rejoiced but instead he did neither and raised his eyes to Steve's. "I'm fine, Steve. You look good."