Steve hummed as he thought about that, and, in some sense, it held credence. She was there throughout the years, and even with time passing as it had, he felt as though they were going to continuously end up in this dance. Not such a bad thing, if you asked him. “Daytime coffee sounds nice, though I’ll take mine as is; Irish won’t do me much good.” 

Glancing down at her arm, he hesitated for a moment, forgetting what it was like to be touched in the most simplest form. So much of what he endured had been in combat–no room for sympathy nor gentleness–that it felt foreign to him. He reached up and took her hand, maneuvering so she was on the inside of the sidewalk and he was on the street-side. “Lead the way.”

Steve followed along to the tomato-y downfall of Bobbi’s acting career without cracking any sort of smile, doing his best to remain composed so as not to upset her while she opened up about such a horrible ordeal. “Sounds like a true Shakespearean tragedy if you ask me.” He replied, finally smirking just a smidge.

“I don’t know, red might be a nice color on you. Maybe you should seek professional help to get you past the tomato episode of your past. Otherwise it might be your tragic flaw.” He mused as their food arrived soon after, the night being rather slow.

“Just make sure you take your time with that; don’t get yourself sick.”

doesntlikebullies

"That would be a waste, ma'am."

“Alright, you got it.” Steve replied, flagging down the barkeep to place their orders. He got the largest sizes available–one, because he needed high amounts of calories, and two, because she obviously needed it. “Not much for tomatoes, huh? What’d they ever do to you?” He asked teasingly.

He met her stare and smiled, nodding almost cheekily in response.

Steve smiled solemnly and glanced away, his head dipping as he tried to formulate some response to that. None came, but he returned his attention to Bobbi and let the memories come flooding back. “I’m just…getting by, I suppose. Strange that even after all these years, I’m still bumping into you. Small world, right?” 

He had only been in this foreign world for about a decade and so much had happened that it felt like the change would never stop rushing in. He was not prepared to grapple with that, so he merely kept the vigil and did his job, but what happened when there was little to no job left? Was he to hang up his shield and fade away like all old soldiers? He didn’t know.

“How long were you going to be in town for?”

Steve didn’t even know how to grace Bobbi with a response and instead simply listened, nodded, and patted her on the back. “That it does.” He agreed, relating to at least one fact in that entire history lesson.

He peeked into the basket and then pulled out his wallet, nodding. “Sure, what do you want? Let me guess: two burgers.” He knew that she was no regular dame and would go for the foodie throat if the opportunity presented itself. “I’ll cover whatever it is.”

“Well, I stick with Morningstar because that is in fact who I am, darling. I started the whole fad!” He complained, gesturing at himself. “I’m the Devil.”

Lucifer studied her in return and had more rustled feathers than a cockfight in that particular moment. He frowned momentarily and shook his head. “Where else would you expect the Devil to reside? Philly? Come now, Los Angeles is the perfect setting for me and you know it.”

Steve could not resist a small snort at that one, though it was certainly suppressed. “Some things never change.” He commented.

Pure chance, indeed. Pure chance that Steve Rogers and Bobbi Morse would cross paths once more; not even he would have taken that bet. He found that the familiar faces of times past comforted him, and to still have someone around? Well, it felt good.

“Maybe it did.” He nodded, looking down as he took a deep breath. “That was a nice change of pace.” He agreed, though he still didn’t enjoy being behind the lens of a camera. “Define happy, Hoot.”

“They do now; it’s all the rage.” Lucifer reassured, though he wasn’t one hundred percent certain the line had stuck. Yet. “Well, if you lack imagination, I suppose…” He shrugged that off and grinned wickedly at her question, raising his brow as if it was the first time he heard the line.

“Both, actually.” He answered nonchalantly, though there was a hint of something else there–something beneath the superficially flippant façade he wore. “It was rather painful, yes, and then I slaved away under my Dear Old Dad’s™ employment. Feel free to ask any other Biblically inclined pick-up lines; I’m all horns.” 

“On my first, actually.” Steve corrected and couldn’t help but crack a smile.

He leaned on one elbow, trying to appear suave and collected, but in reality, he had no idea what he was doing. He just sipped his Sam Adams and listened in on the–well, frankly quite insulting bluntness of Bobbi Morse. He shrugged it off gracefully though. “Yeah, right alongside Columbus and the like.” He nodded, humming thoughtfully. “You can’t remember it right now because you’ve had a few too many–I’m willing to bet.”

He glanced at his arms and then back at Bobbi. “And? The conclusion you’ve reached? I thought you had your amendment privately passed? Seems you’ve got competition in the form of one congressman.”