Quicklog: Tony, Steve and Bucky Take Flight, Episode 1
[Steve was next to the cot that folded down from the wall in the back of that co-opted jet. He was pinched in, a tad bigger than your average soldier, who'd lack legroom with that cot down. His shoulders were drawn in in dirt-blotted blue, his knees too, his shield balanced up closer to Bucky, and the captain was watching the injured Tony with the intensity you'd expect, blue eyes earnest, ringing in surprise with all of the clarity of a bell as the other man's eyes opened and turned his head.
He ached, but overall, Steve had come out intact. He was lucky. He knew that. A few scrapes, a couple bruises, but he was alright, more worried about Tony, who'd taken a serious hit, his suit blown to smithereens in a lights how that rivaled fireworks on the oily shore of the Hudson.—Steve could manage triage. He knew first aid. But, if it was deeper, if it was internal, he couldn't know, not without an x-ray, and thus, he was in the dark about what all might've happened to his friend after he was hit. He didn't know the severity—and that led to the surprise on his face at the sight of a moving head (good news), and eyes that seemed clear (more good news).] Tony, hey. [His smile was automatic, but it sobered immediately.] They don't have Carnage anymore, but neither do we. How... do you feel?