"I know who I'm supposed to be, who people want me to be, but inside..." he trailed off and shrugged. He had a name, a face, and remembered well enough what people expected of him, but he hadn't formed a full feeling of identity to himself. He expected that would come the longer that he trailed at Steve's heels like a lost puppy. He expected Steve to know who and what he was and be able to pass on that information readily.
"I'm a weapon made from a man," he said with another shrug.
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"I'm a weapon made from a man," he said with another shrug.