When they get back to their own time, they can tell whatever version of Romanoff is there about this moment. She'll laugh and laugh. Steve is not built for stealth, and everyone knows it. It's not usually Tony's M.O. either, when it comes down to it. But what they really need here is speed and decisiveness, and they both have that.
Tony opts to prove his decisiveness without asking Steve's permission, which is not unexpected, but he doesn't have to like it. If he notes Steve's expression in the display, there's about three seconds of annoyance followed by a moment of fright. There's something about being out of control in a skin-tight, full-body metal chrysalis, and Steve has never enjoyed feeling like an unwilling passenger in his own body. He can't really enjoy the exhilaration of high speed flight at that rate, although the distraction of it helps keep him from actually freaking out.
He's panting a little when they land, nonetheless, rattled. There's no reproach forthcoming, though. He picks up the shell immediately and looks it over for a strap or some other way to carry it, coughs, and asks, "What happens if you throw up in one of these? That was a rough trip."
He heads slowly for the side of the building, where there's a set of stairs that lead down to a basement door. The faded plaque beside it reads 'Saint Dominic's Catholic Church, Est. 1927'. What does it say about Steve Rogers that he pats his pockets and comes up with a set of lockpicks like it's no big thing? Hotwiring cars, breaking into cathedrals, it's all in a day's work anymore. "The caretaker knows me. We'll be okay here unless the other me decides to drop in for a visit. When are we?"
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Tony opts to prove his decisiveness without asking Steve's permission, which is not unexpected, but he doesn't have to like it. If he notes Steve's expression in the display, there's about three seconds of annoyance followed by a moment of fright. There's something about being out of control in a skin-tight, full-body metal chrysalis, and Steve has never enjoyed feeling like an unwilling passenger in his own body. He can't really enjoy the exhilaration of high speed flight at that rate, although the distraction of it helps keep him from actually freaking out.
He's panting a little when they land, nonetheless, rattled. There's no reproach forthcoming, though. He picks up the shell immediately and looks it over for a strap or some other way to carry it, coughs, and asks, "What happens if you throw up in one of these? That was a rough trip."
He heads slowly for the side of the building, where there's a set of stairs that lead down to a basement door. The faded plaque beside it reads 'Saint Dominic's Catholic Church, Est. 1927'. What does it say about Steve Rogers that he pats his pockets and comes up with a set of lockpicks like it's no big thing? Hotwiring cars, breaking into cathedrals, it's all in a day's work anymore. "The caretaker knows me. We'll be okay here unless the other me decides to drop in for a visit. When are we?"