Capitol citizens, as a rule, were pretty incomprehensible to Steve, but he was starting to wonder if the schools in the Capitol taught an entirely different curriculum, because Stark's definition of dramatic was obviously wildly different from Steve's own understanding of the word.
"Yeah, I'm sure," Steve snapped, recognizing that for the dig it was. Stark wasn't the first to make a snap judgment about Steve based on his appearance, which was a source of constant frustration, considering that Steve had never stopped feeling like the skinny, scrawny kid who'd seen the business end of someone else's fist more times than he could count. "Because somehow, I've managed plenty of conversations with Thor that didn't involve getting drunk and throwing sloppy punches at one another." In front of cameras, no less, with an entire ballroom full of people looking on. Right - no drama there.
If Stark's 'meathead' insult had edged Steve into irritated territory, his next statement sent him straight to red-hot fury. Dismissal oozed from his words, as if Steve had spent last night being a petulant child, refusing to have fun while everyone around him celebrated. As if Steve's consideration of death was some ridiculous whim, as if he'd just been mopey or broody for no good reason. They'd been surrounded by television screens playing a constant stream of bloody, violent deaths, and yet somehow, Steve was the dramatic one for refusing to view it as entertainment.
Truth be told, it made Steve want to throw a punch at Stark, despite the conversation they'd just had regarding drama. The only thing that kept him in his seat was the fact that he'd already lost his temper last night, shooting his mouth off in a spectacularly stupid fashion while talking to Natasha Romanoff, of all people. He couldn't afford any more reckless outbursts this weekend, and attacking Panem's premier weapons designer was just asking to be dragged in front of Stane, where he'd probably end up with a bullet between his eyes.
He managed - barely - to get a grip on himself, then promptly lost it at Stark's next accusation.
"You - mugging for the servants?" Steve said, and his voice was far too near a snarl; this was going nowhere good, and it was going there fast. But that wasn't even a fair thing for Stark to throw at him, he'd behaved, he hadn't even spoken to the Avox - except for the thank you in the hall, but Stark hadn't been there to see it, so that didn't count.
Asking about the soup was a flimsy, paper-thin attempt to steer the conversation back to friendlier waters, but Steve was past pretending to be pleasant. Even if Stark was going to run straight to Stane with a report on Steve's behavior, Steve was simply too frayed to keep up the polite facade he'd been attempting thus far. He let his spoon clatter back into his mostly full bowl and sat back in his chair, disgust clear on his face.
"Not as good as what my Ma used to make," he said, glaring across the table at Stark. "Why the hell did you ask me here?"