His lips quirk into a smile at the sound of that stomach-grumble. "Yeah, that sounded like a yes," he says with a little laugh. "Listen, if you trust me, you're welcome to come inside for a little while. I have a kitchen and I just restocked. I make the best pancakes ever, according to my pal, Bucky. He doesn't like anything else I make, but I take compliments where I can get 'em."

He gestures at the building behind him. "I own the place. I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers."