It's had a paint job, but yeah. You've— he's tried to pass it on a few times, but... [ He shrugs, although there's something heavier about it this time. ] It's yours. It always comes back, you know? Sooner or later.

[ A beat. ]

You weren't surprised, about the arm. [ he says, reaching it out to stretch the metal, eyebrow quirked. ] Or the hair.

[ In 1943, he sure would have been. ]