I don't hate you. He does know that, on some level. But his version of Cap, the one in his head? He would never say that to him. Can he sit? Is there somewhere to sit? He really needs to sit.
"Where are we?" This is no dream, no matter what logic is trying to tell him. Steve's cheek had felt warm under his fingertips, he could feel the blood rushing under the skin. He needs answers. He can only hope that he can cope with the results.