No one has given Sylvie jewelry before. Maybe when she was a child, something passed down through the family, which technically should be more meaningful, but she doesn't even remember if such a thing ever occurred.

She remembers this.

When Bucky turns her, she lets herself go, her smile tentative, almost shy. She reaches up and touches the dagger, then looks at him. "Thank you," she says and even with practice, the words still feel strange, a little stilted, though she means them sincerely.