[It really wasn't surprising, hearing the Soldier describe his dreams like that. Being an assassin for so many years meant he'd shed a lot of blood. Intentionally, incidentally and even accidentally. Rumlow didn't have many like that himself, but he'd read somewhere dreams were a way of allowing your brain to process information and emotion. Rumlow rarely felt guilt for killing, so he assumed his brain was finished processing it the moment it was done. The Soldier, on the other hand.]

Mm, well, you've been killing for a long time. Freezing you after probably didn't let you dream, so maybe it's all coming back to you now. Can't say I know for sure, I'm no psychologist.

[He squeezed him tighter to him.]

If we even had milk, it never helped me any as a kid.