The too-small shirt is almost synonymous with Steve Rogers at this point. He knows damn well he could go a couple sizes up easily, but he doesn't bother since most of the time he wears even a printed tee as an undershirt. That, and Sam teases that he's disappointed every time Steve wears a workout shirt that fits him right. He's pretty sure the guy doesn't mean anything by it; it's just a running gag at this point.
He laughs softly and waves a hand to halt them. He shouldn't be surprised that they'd help first and ask questions later. "No, no, I'm kidding."
He could move it himself if he needed to. "I mean, sure, but later. I thought I better give you both a heads-up about this project, is all."
He turns on some overhead lights, beckoning them toward one of the booths that still remain in the corner. The seats are covered with bright red leatherette cushions, and the formica on the table is carmine, with squiggly gray and white organic shapes all over the surface, a retro pattern (but then, what's retro when you're from the 1940s?).
"Have either of you run into Spider-Man here? He's a nice kid when he's not sweeping your legs out from under you." Steve sits, notes the dust bunnies on his knees, and stands again to try to brush them off.
"There are two of them, actually. Spider-Men? Spider children. And then there's a boy somewhere in his mid-teens that dresses like a black cat. There are probably more I haven't met."
He looks at his alternate with a grim smile. "It's driving me crazy; all these kids. I figured I better at least try to do something about it."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2018-11-27 09:02 pm (UTC)He laughs softly and waves a hand to halt them. He shouldn't be surprised that they'd help first and ask questions later. "No, no, I'm kidding."
He could move it himself if he needed to. "I mean, sure, but later. I thought I better give you both a heads-up about this project, is all."
He turns on some overhead lights, beckoning them toward one of the booths that still remain in the corner. The seats are covered with bright red leatherette cushions, and the formica on the table is carmine, with squiggly gray and white organic shapes all over the surface, a retro pattern (but then, what's retro when you're from the 1940s?).
"Have either of you run into Spider-Man here? He's a nice kid when he's not sweeping your legs out from under you." Steve sits, notes the dust bunnies on his knees, and stands again to try to brush them off.
"There are two of them, actually. Spider-Men? Spider children. And then there's a boy somewhere in his mid-teens that dresses like a black cat. There are probably more I haven't met."
He looks at his alternate with a grim smile. "It's driving me crazy; all these kids. I figured I better at least try to do something about it."