steve rogers (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shieldtoss) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} snapthread, |
Steve Rogers had spent his time getting to know the place that he was to call for the foreseeable future. Steve was a lot of things--scientific marvel, sure, but scientific genius? Hardly. That was the territory that belonged to Hank, Bruce, and sometimes Tony when he wasn't busy staring down the bottom of a alcohol glass, a girl's skirt, or a jacuzzi. You needed to infiltrate an enemy base? Develop a strategy to take down a crime syndicate? Well, Steve might be able to help you out there. Travel transdimensionally? Well, that was a bit out of his scope.
Still, he knew that retreating to his makeshift room was not exactly the healthiest of scenarios. Every person here, he'd learned, was in the same boat and, for the most part, a hero in their own right, so it would probably be a good idea to get to know them. Even if, y'know, there were some people in this place that were multiversey versions of people he knew. And himself. He wasn't entirely sure if he was ready for that, but at this point what else was he going to do? Sit around until Tony or Jan decided they wanted to hang out with him and drag him around for the 2 cent tour?
Dressed in a pair of jeans, a white shirt that he often wore under his blue flannel, and his jacket, Steve headed for the bar. Not that he wanted to drink. Despite, technically, being one of the oldest people in the room, his face told another story for most people. A very young, barely legal type of story. So, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and quietly studied the room that was filing with people until he found himself at the bar, saddled up next to a larger man, and said, "Can I have a coke?"