Re: Peggy & Steve
The timing of this event was about as bad as it could possibly be, and Steve had no doubt that was on purpose. It was unquestionably a punishment for Wanda, even though she bore no responsibility for the events in District Eight. Steve wasn't sure what it was meant to be for him, other than perhaps a chance to stage a convenient accident if he stepped out of line. For that reason (along with a dozen others), Steve fully intended to be on his best behavior. He'd kept to the fringes of the crowd, maintaining an extensive distance between himself and Stane as the man made his dedication speech, because good behavior notwithstanding, the temptation to launch himself at Stane might simply prove too much for him to bear.
As soon as the speech was over, Steve let the crowd carry him along toward the hotel lobby. His height and blond hair probably made him stick out, but he was at least dressed to look the part of a Victor. After eschewing his stylist team for the past seven years, they'd been delighted when Steve had requested something to wear to this event, and had... gone above and beyond what Steve had expected.
Or hoped for.
He'd assumed they'd bring him some sort of suit, replete with glitter or scales or stripes; instead, they'd shown up with stretchy, skintight pants that left very little to the imagination, and blue-grey latex paint that they'd used to create a swirled scale effect over his back, up around his waist and along his chest, until it finally faded out near his temple and cheekbone. Steve was fairly certain this was some sort of payback for ignoring them for so many years, and his protests that none of these items counted as clothing fell on deaf ears. Once they'd finished with the paint, Steve had ended up looking vaguely reptilian and unfortunately naked.
He hadn't had time to procure another outfit, not if he wanted something that fit the theme (and that was all part of the good behavior, wasn't it?) so he'd simply gritted his teeth and tried to ignore just how exposed he felt. Inside the lobby, Steve headed straight for one of the food tables, grabbing a plate and piling it high, barely paying attention to what he chose. Actually eating for once seemed the simplest way to fall into line, and in short order he'd downed an assortment of fruit - red and purple and yellow - and crunched his way through some sort of nut-laden dessert that had a bitter aftertaste. People here and there stopped him with a hand at the crook of his elbow, exclaiming delightedly over his appearance. More than one woman - and a few men - leered openly, extending the sort of invitations that involved a bed and a locked door, all of which made Steve blush and move hurriedly on, popping another appetizer into his mouth so as to avoid that line of conversation.
Normally he'd have sought Clint out by now, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to him tonight, because Clint was likely to bring up things Steve simply couldn't discuss here. He was avoiding Scott for similar reasons, and he hadn't even seen Peggy yet, although she'd promised to be here...
As if his thoughts had summoned her, Steve finally glimpsed Peggy step into the lobby, her dress a blazing red. He immediately began weaving his way over, taking another bite of fruit whenever it looked like someone might try to engage him in conversation. Steve swallowed as he neared her, and she turned as he called her name, her face that blank mask of politeness Steve had never mastered.
"There you are," Steve said, and his relief was evident in his voice. "I've been looking for you."