My pimping Rules.
🩸Must be following your Queen.
🩸Account Must Be Unlocked
🩸RT ~ Follow Fridays, Solos, Starters
🩸Must have 18+ or higher in Bio
🩸Part-Time Pimping account.
🩸RL First, but let's have fun.
🩸NO DRAMA.
"I'm comfortable in my own skin, not many can relate."
🐈⬛ ~New Cat in Town
🐈⬛ ~Semi Descriptive
🐈⬛ ~RT & Follow? Thanks!
Steve’s brows furrow.
“Why can’t we just meet here?” he asks.
Steve’s definitely an old fart but he’s not too ashamed of it.
Just maybe a bit embarrassed.
“What’s your favorite cuisine? I’ll find something,” he insists.
“Picky enough to turn your nose up at anchovies, apparently,” he teases, leading the way.
“But you don’t necessarily believe them, I understand. It’s easy for them to say, especially if they just…walk away afterwards.”
Steve gives him a sincere smile.
“For what it’s worth, though, I’m always honest.”
Steve understands that completely.
“You ever get interested in maybe volunteering at the VA, lemme know, I’ve got a buddy who’s always looking for people.”
“Like emails,” he nods, “but sometimes I think it can be a little bit…I don’t know, maybe impersonal.”
Steve’s definitely old-fashioned.
Steve slowly begins to realize that maybe Bob isn’t just speaking metaphorically.
“I…think I’ve seen that, at least heard about it. But, for what it’s worth, the worst parts of a person doesn’t define them.”
“Really?” he asks, leading the way. “Nah, sausage is clearly the superior meat. And you gotta have onions.”
things might also be available in a more niche market.
“Mm.
So…what do you do, do you play professionally?
Or are you in the military?”
Steve had seen tournaments on TV enough times to know that people could be professional gamblers and make a very good living off of it, as well. Granted, it was most frequently poker but he imagines that other+
Steve makes a face.
Nine?
He was an old fart, nine was entirely too late for a morning person like him.
“Nine?
That’s really late, Tony, I don’t like going out that late. What about seven?”
Still late but slightly better.
He knows nothing.
“Y’know, I’m glad somebody finally said it because, my goodness, there’s so many things I stumbled upon that I wanted nothing to do with.”
His cheeks redden at the memory and he wonders if he’s making her uncomfortable.
Does he know what?
Steve’s not as knowledgeable as he appears to be.
As Nat once told him, he just ‘pretend(s) to know everything.’
“I’ve been reading the internet a lot.”
Reading. The internet.
Like it’s a book.
Idiot.
Sam came on the scene.”
The man was clearly more than capable.
“Not as often as you’d think.”
He gestures towards the open menu in front of him.
“Their wings here are really good.”
True, it’s a weird place for Steve to hang out considering alcohol doesn’t affect him whatsoever but, listen, the man loves him some wings.
“I’ve taken a huge step back since+
Steve’s not in the habit of looking at strangers’ chests, thank you very much.
He was raised to be a gentleman and keep his eyes on faces.
“Good to meet you, Laura.”
Steve had been afraid of that. It always seemed to affect the good guys the hardest.
“What happens after?” he asks quietly. “Anything I might be able to help with?”
“No, just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, maybe see if I could take you out to lunch as a way of celebrating.”
Steve’s always had a mind for birthdays and other special occasions.
“What kind of toppings do you like?” he asks as though sensing the need for distraction. “And if you say anchovies, we’re no longer friends.”
“Apparently a whole lot more than anybody likely even realizes, ma’am,” he replies solemnly.
He nods, shrugging in response to the observation.
“It was. It was very disorienting. And humbling.”
“Sure, I’m sure we can figure something out. But if you wanna talk about the whole Sam situation, it might be best to start with pizza or burgers.”
Steak just seems to demand a more settled soul.
“I think the parts we think of as bad are only bad if we buy into the labels that others put on them.
On us,” he shrugs.
He knows he’s being cryptic but he doesn’t mean to be frustrating.
“Are you able to control Sentry?”
for.
“You’re very welcome.”
He gives him a small salute before going back to his drink.
This guy wasn’t on Steve’s radar so he needn’t have been concerned about that. Being retired was a nice thing and even though he’d agreed to be available for emergencies where the world was literally at risk, he didn’t keep tabs on threats the way he used to.
That’s what pre-mission briefings were+
The voice indicates she.
“Hey, I’m Steve.”
Who is this woman? She remind him of a more colorful T’Challa.
He takes note of the eye roll and wonders what he’s done to warrant it.
The resulting shrug is apathetic.
“Yea, probably.”
If Tony doesn’t want to talk about it Steve’s not pushing it.