That sounded more like Steve- the earnest regret, the way his explanation tumbled out in a rush and was followed fast by concern for her instead- but Peggy wasn't convinced. It wasn't as if things weren't adding up, but convincing her brain to ascribe these particular puzzle pieces to Steve was difficult. Tony, she could believe; Clint, even, if she were picking through options when it came to the victors represented here tonight and how likely each might be to get completely drunk before delving into more lascivious gestures... like standing mostly nude out in public view.
Throw that disconnect in with the way his eyes were too dark and his cheeks too flushed (heat, not embarrassment, and there was always a visible difference on Steve's skin and face if you knew where to look), and Peggy was worried. She'd found him, but he wasn't acting himself, and that was almost worse.
Almost. Problematic or not, at least she had eyes on him now and could do something to help. Or that was the plan, right before a hand cradled her cheek, big and warm and maybe a little damp across the palm (sweat or water from the shower she could hear running, but Peggy wasn't sure which). That made her blink again, thrown from what seemed like the usual script into a strange place where she couldn't quite find her footing. "Thank you." It was the polite thing to say, and easier than processing surprise. "You didn't," she admitted, soft and still flustered, "But I think we were distracted by your wardrobe instead."
He was still wearing part of it, though the paint had gotten smudged at some point. Clearing her throat, Peggy reached to brace the arm extended her direction, fingers curling loosely above Steve's elbow. She couldn't even fit her hand around his arm, but that was a distant thing to notice amidst all the rest she was trying to understand. "Did I interrupt you in the process of washing it off? Maybe we ought to step inside so you can get back to that." Also, so they could get out of the hall, and Peggy could linger until she was sure Steve wasn't going to slip and fall in the shower. Drowning in a hotel room was a terribly ignoble way to go, and he seemed intoxicated enough for it to be a legitimate concern.