Steve lets out a long, slow breath, running his hand through his sandy-blonde hair as he sets the sourdough on the counter with a solid PLUNK.
That'll need to be warmed up before it's soft enough to serve. The absurdity of the situation strikes him as funny, but somehow he can't make himself laugh.
"...truth is, I'm not OK. Haven't been for a while...just been really good at sublimating it. It was easier to sleep with Tony Stark and live off the government who told me I couldn't fight for what I believed in anymore, than to actually stand up for myself like I should have. It was easier to wallow than it was to ask the big question."
His face goes through a number of unsettling expressions...sorrow, confusion, pain, guilt...before looking up at Damon.
"What am I, if I can't be what they made me to be?"