Over the past seven years, Steve had generally made it a point to spend as little time in the Capitol as possible. Although Capitol parties had a tendency to go until dawn, Steve had skipped out as soon as he could, without causing offense or making a scene. His ongoing struggle to keep his mouth shut and his anger concealed meant that he'd developed a reputation as serious, boring, or even prudish, depending on who was doing the gossiping. It was a blessing, in all honestly, because now when he left a party early, there was nothing suspicious about it. He'd once heard a drunk partygoer say, "Oh, that's just Rogers - he never wants to have any fun."
Which suited Steve just fine.
Unfortunately, last night's plan to leave the party early and catch a train home had been effectively derailed by Tony Stark, who had stumbled into Steve at one point, only to demand he join him for dinner the following evening. While Steve would normally have found a way to decline, Stark simply wasn't someone you said no to; if he wanted you to come to dinner, you went to dinner.
So Steve had pushed his travel plans back, resigned to an evening spent with a man he couldn't stand. Stark ranked right up there with Loki in terms of how much Steve detested him. Although his Games had aired when Steve was only a baby, Steve still knew all about them. How Tony Stark, the Capitol's golden boy, son of the Head Gamemaker himself, had secretly volunteered himself as tribute - during the second Quarter Quell, no less - and had won in spectacular fashion. It wasn't even the fact that he'd won that grated on Steve - it was that he'd volunteered at all. Most people in the districts dreaded reaping day, and they recognized the Games for the death sentence they were. That Stark had so readily thrown himself into the mix painted the Games in a frivolous light, something for rich boys to do for fun when they got bored.
That Stark had gone on to design weapons for the government just made Steve hate him more.
As he rode the elevator up to Stark's floor, Steve found himself wondering just how long he'd have to stay. It wasn't as if he was hungry; the time he normally ate dinner had passed hours ago, and he'd ordered himself a sandwich to tide himself over. He'd be stuck here for an hour, at least, maybe two, and he knew that was being optimistic. He sighed, grimacing at his reflection, which shone back at him from the polished marble of the elevator's sides. He hadn't been inside this particular tower before, but it was every inch as showy and ostentatious as Stark was.
When the elevators door opened they revealed an Avox, standing ready to take Steve's coat. His stomach twisted uncomfortably as he handed it off, but he made sure to offer the man a kind smile and a sincere, "Thank you." Then he followed him into the living room, where Stark was already at a counter, mixing himself a drink.
Oh, it was going to be a very long evening.
"No shrimp for a whole month - what a hardship," Steve said dryly, stepping reluctantly into the room. He glanced idly around, taking in the wide open floor plan, the furniture that looked barely-used, and the dark circles under Stark's eyes.
"Water will be fine, thank you," he added, making sure to keep his voice firm. In Steve's experience, people like Stark thought they always knew best, and he wouldn't have been terribly surprised if Stark tried to force a drink on him, instead of giving Steve the requested water. There was no way Steve was drinking tonight though; he needed to keep his wits about him, especially since he still had no idea why Stark had asked him here. It wasn't as if they were friends, after all.