It’s a good thing that Steve isn’t a puppy then. Play-bows around his feet would just get Steve kicked and no one wants that. Not even Tony. “If I have to be weened off of my own money from a decade ago, you’re going to have to find a way to provide for me.” After a little seed funding of course. Tony is lucky, if he’s paying attention, and while he doesn’t count cards, he can calculate high probabilities in his head, see trajectory angles overlay the space in front of him, and he can make very educated guesses when it comes to odds.
Of course, what he’s planning on doing is a little sports betting. It’s baseball season and Tony knows that Steve never forgets a game. Brooklyn might not have the Dodgers anymore but he’s still painfully all-American. It’s cute. Sometimes.
Steve is his ringer. That eidetic memory of his ought to come in handy. And if there’s no New York playing today, that’s fine too. They have access to FRIDAY and she has a database full of knowledge from eight years in the future.
It dawns on him as they head to, oh Jesus, the bus terminal, that Steve himself can probably count cards too. He’s seen that strategic mind work. He can likely remember the combinations of the cards that are played. Tony opens and shuts his mouth. “All of those friendly wager poker games, back at the Tower? Did you hustle us, Rogers?”
He keeps forgetting that Steve isn’t all that wholesome. He looks it. He’s got a strong moral center. But he had been a bastard growing up sometimes, mischievous to the core. No wonder Bucky loved him.
no subject
Of course, what he’s planning on doing is a little sports betting. It’s baseball season and Tony knows that Steve never forgets a game. Brooklyn might not have the Dodgers anymore but he’s still painfully all-American. It’s cute. Sometimes.
Steve is his ringer. That eidetic memory of his ought to come in handy. And if there’s no New York playing today, that’s fine too. They have access to FRIDAY and she has a database full of knowledge from eight years in the future.
It dawns on him as they head to, oh Jesus, the bus terminal, that Steve himself can probably count cards too. He’s seen that strategic mind work. He can likely remember the combinations of the cards that are played. Tony opens and shuts his mouth. “All of those friendly wager poker games, back at the Tower? Did you hustle us, Rogers?”
He keeps forgetting that Steve isn’t all that wholesome. He looks it. He’s got a strong moral center. But he had been a bastard growing up sometimes, mischievous to the core. No wonder Bucky loved him.