A thought occurs to Steve as the shifting autumn sky sends leaves blowing around their feet. They make a rustling that seems to echo off the tall buildings that are reaching up to the sky. But not in Azerothian smooth towers and spirals. Blocky buildings of brick and metal.

"Is this the first dream you've had since you became an undead?" Because Steve knows they're dreaming, now. It took a while for it to dawn on him, but now that it has he wonders how he missed it, with the way everything is fuzzy around the edges. He concentrates harder, and they're approaching the Brooklyn Bridge from the bank of the East river. Steve points out at it.

"That's the bridge I'm always sketching." Things are shifting, moving around him as Steve thinks. An old movie theater with news reels running updates on the war effort. "Here's the theater I got beat up behind."