"Really?" Peter's smile ticked up a notch, moving straight into goofy. "Because I had it under good authority that pretty much nothing is older than you." Little age joke there. They were so ridiculously easy with Steve, it was hard not to take them whenever the advantage was presented. Peter Quill had no qualms about taking the low roads where jokes were concerned.
He looked around too, like he was just now noticing the blank walls -- sure, there were a few posters -- Bowie, Hendrix, The Clash. But not enough. "It's hard to find vintage stuff, y'know? And it felt too cheap to just print things off the internet. I'll find something to fill the space... eventually." He frowned at the cement on the far wall, crossed his arms. "Nobody likes a lazy place holder, y'know? Might get...uh. What's the word? Complacent? Something like that." He wasn't spectacularly concerned. But now that it'd been pointed out, it was something of a shame.
Although there was a perfectly reasonable spot on the other side of the counter that opened and closed like a horizontal door, Peter vaulted over the counter in the front. Because he could. Because he was always sort of vibrating with hidden energy.
Well, it was a little awful, because no one liked being forgotten. Or never known? Whatever, semantics were stupid. But Peter froze for a second, looking surprised. "Wha-- oh. Oh no. Not that you're not like -- a perfect specimen and -ah--" he waved his hand around vaguely at Steve's person, "Like, all that is man or whatever but no, we weren't that kind of close." Not that he was opposed to the idea, just that Peter was a little less interested in Very Nice and more interested in Slightly Scary. It was sort of his thing, no matter how nice Steve's biceps were. "You weren't dating...me."