DAY 1 - EVENING | REST WEEK | G (just an old man being an idiot)
LARPing a bit.
[OOC: Steve's on the move fairly quickly but fairly obviously. Anybody strolling the grounds is welcome to spot him (because he's not even trying to be too good at sneaking at the moment). He's open for interractions just pretty in his own head and focused at the moment.]
The day had been a long one, and it wasn't over yet. Steve found himself no happier twenty four hours away from the shootout and for completely different reasons.
It was disconcerting, and the relief of his strength and healing had sagged as he'd started to move around and try to get used to seeing everything in monochrome. He had tried to cook before the weirdness of how the ingredients looked overwhelmed him, and had retreated to wait for the others to wake and report in. By the time he found out what the rest were dealing with he'd decided that new hair might have been a more comfortable option (it wasn't really like he cared about that kind of thing), but overall he was better off than others.
Bucky was a concern, though. Steve had spent a good portion of the midday thinking about his best friend and how to help him. Back during the War, the Howlies had had a prank war going for weeks at a time to break up the trauma when it started to tighten around them. Steve wondered about that method for a moment, then discounted it being viable here as he remembered even a normal troop of crazy assholes getting a bit over the top by the end. With the number of super-able people around here that could get out of hand, fast.
Then, steadfastly responding to Loki's messages (because it annoyed the hell out of him but damn if he didn't always respond, and that was hilarious), an idea occurred to the greyscale man. He glanced from his sketchbook, then down to his light gray hand and sleeve, thinking about the joke Bucky had cracked earlier when Steve and Mark(?) had been talking about their condition.
A grin stretched across Steve's face and he fired off a new message to the Trickster, then hurried to finish the sketch of the small kitten Sheriff overseeing a barnyard, taking extra care to make it as appealing as possible. Why the God of Mischief seemed keen on collecting his artwork, he didn't want to guess. As long as Thor and Nat were around, however, he felt fairly minded and backed up.
That night, after hurrying back to change into the dark leggings he'd gotten from the Fairy Ball, he donned the coat and hat as well; both having been transformed from their nauseating opulence to a long, midnight black trench coat and simple black fedora. Classic and well fitted. Steve had to admire Loki's work; he could be as ornery as Tony at times but both seemed to take pride in their craftmanship.
Steve couldn't help snickering as he hurried out, taking care not to be seen as he left the dormitory and stole into the night, humming an old radio theme song as he glanced around quickly. He was grinning a bit recklessly as he snuck and darted around the buildings, remembering the old radio plays and black and white comics he and Bucky had grown up on. The radio plays' theme song rumbled low in his throat as he moved, every once in a white interrupted by a soft catch-phrase as he tested making his voice as low and gravely as possible.
"Evil thrives where Man ignores, but I am the Shadow!"
"I am here to see the gutters of this city cleansed!"
"You cannot escape... The Shadow!"
Pausing in a corner of one building and letting out a short cough, Steve leaned back and glanced down, pleased that (at least to him) the black of his coat was all but invisible in the deepest shadows. That would help.
Mission set in his mind he darted around the corner and started to begin a more thorough, grid-like search of the campus, one eye on the sky and the radio theme still coming off his lips in a heavy whisper.
If Bucky was out tonight, or any other night sulking, he'd be getting a special visitor and as many ridiculous mantras as it took till he at least cracked a grin.