Who: Steve Rogers What: Thiiings? Where: Wheel three When: between 2-3 am Sunday night/Monday morning Closed/Narrative
It was sometime after 2 a.m. when Steve stepped out of the apartment, the space in front of him just as quiet as the one he was leaving behind and he moved with the same quiet.
Once away from the apartments and into an open space, he started grumbling to himself, the words not making much sense (if anyone had been around to hear). He stopped suddenly and held one hand out, spinning it in small circles with two of his ginger held out. When nothing happened his brow furrowed and he looked more closely at his hand, then felt against his chest, checked his pockets...
He came up with nothing and was on the verge of anger when suddenly...he just stopped. He blinked a few times, looked around briefly, and ran a hand through his hair, clearly puzzled. He turned around and went back to the apartment, walking slowly. Once he got there he snuck back into bed, almost, but not quite, as quietly as before.