Okay, fair point. Steve manages to calm down the giggles enough to consider the construction of his various uniforms over the past few years. More Kevlar than leather, in the breastplates, but he's not sure that will make a difference with this upcoming fight. The Chitauri mostly had energy weapons, not projectile, if he recalls right. Kevlar might even be less effective than leather. He's not sure what the heat resistance of either might be, offhand.
But he bets Tony knows. There's something reassuring about that, discovering that someone has considered all the practical angles you hadn't gotten around to yet. He gives him a gentle squeeze on the upper arm and nods.
The look of the woman that appears at the door immediately takes Steve back to the site of Project Rebirth and the refined, elderly woman at the counter when he and Peggy entered the facade of the experimental facility. He's half expecting Tony to tell her he always carries an umbrella. That's the trouble with being old, or at least having a lot of life experience. Almost everything reminds you of something, and when it doesn't, it's usually offputting.
He takes off his hat politely, standing off to Tony's side but close enough to show his face. And then he side-eyes Tony's introduction. You can't just address random women as 'angel' anymore, can you? Not without getting an eyeroll in return, at least. "Excuse me, they're 'huge'?"
He glances down at his legs with a quizzical frown. He has yet to buy his own boots in the 21st century. He's never run afoul of his own calf measurements.
no subject
But he bets Tony knows. There's something reassuring about that, discovering that someone has considered all the practical angles you hadn't gotten around to yet. He gives him a gentle squeeze on the upper arm and nods.
The look of the woman that appears at the door immediately takes Steve back to the site of Project Rebirth and the refined, elderly woman at the counter when he and Peggy entered the facade of the experimental facility. He's half expecting Tony to tell her he always carries an umbrella. That's the trouble with being old, or at least having a lot of life experience. Almost everything reminds you of something, and when it doesn't, it's usually offputting.
He takes off his hat politely, standing off to Tony's side but close enough to show his face. And then he side-eyes Tony's introduction. You can't just address random women as 'angel' anymore, can you? Not without getting an eyeroll in return, at least. "Excuse me, they're 'huge'?"
He glances down at his legs with a quizzical frown. He has yet to buy his own boots in the 21st century. He's never run afoul of his own calf measurements.