"Yeah," Bruce chuckles quietly. "Different is... That's definitely one way to put it." He shrugs at Steve, a little half-smile on his face. "I heard nice things about it. Uh, both New England and old En- I mean. Europe. In general. But the languages are always a thing." His fingers steeple and flop apart again as he mutters, "I still don't have a good handle on Portuguese." He'd meant to keep at it, even if he didn't need to know it anymore. It was something to help pass the time, to set a different part of his brain working to give the cure-driven section a break.

Of course, here time isn't something that he's in huge supply of here. Most of it's spent either heading out on missions and sleeping off the aftereffects of his episodes. Then there's the meditation exercises, which he's need to up a bit, given certain housemates and their tendency to rub his nerves raw, and catching up on the stuff he's missed. Remembering to eat now and again pretty much rounds it all out, at least in between experiments.

"I heard that, uh..." Bruce stops there, reminding himself of just when Steve was over there in Europe, and that no matter what time of year, nice didn't much enter into the scenery. "Er. ...Well, it's been a long time since I was in a city big as New York. I mean. For an extended period, that is. There was the one time I came up this way before and that... That. Didn't go so well." His ears burn and his eyes go off to the side to avoid looking at other man as he remembers Harlem burning from the helicopter's windows.