"I know. You won't even wear a helmet in the field." Steph knew this was true for both of them, having fought closely with her world's Bucky, and having practically stalked this one through the duration of the war. Having taken up sniping herself, she understood how headgear could get in the way, but there was the irony of being vulnerable to headshots when you were supposed to be the one taking them.
For all of New York's bustle, it was still quiet compared to the next century. It wasn't the best era to live in, but she could appreciate the good things.
In the cab, they sat in companionable silence. She kept her gaze out the window, but she was aware of their knees touching. Neither of them made any move to pull away, and she was relieved that he seemed to want her presence just as much as she did. He could be angry at her all he liked and she could take it. Pushing her away, ignoring her, giving her the cold shoulder — now those would hurt.
If the cabbie was surprised by their destination, he made no indication. But it really wasn't a good part of town, the sort where pretty women like her could get sexually assaulted in her own apartment or roped into prostitution rings or doing drugs. It was, however, also the sort of place where a capable do-gooder like her would thrive, and he was probably already coming to his own conclusions while various women greeted her as they made their way up the stairs.
"Evenin', Gracie," a bleary-eyed young woman who looked like a waif greeted as she smoked on the stairwell. She glanced at Bucky, eyes widening in recognition, but she did not leer at him as she would've any other attractive man. Instead she turned to Steph with the same expression she wore when she saw them come up the stairs: respect.
"That's gonna kill you one day, Marta," Steph greeted in turn, in a somewhat motherly tone.
"Just celebratin' my second life, is all."
Steph would later explain, once they were in her apartment and out of earshot, that Marta had run away from an abusive husband. The bastard had stalked her and had been trying to break down her door while brandishing a knife when Steph stepped in. All those ladies who greeted her when they arrived, she had saved in some fashion. She never did like bullies.
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For all of New York's bustle, it was still quiet compared to the next century. It wasn't the best era to live in, but she could appreciate the good things.
In the cab, they sat in companionable silence. She kept her gaze out the window, but she was aware of their knees touching. Neither of them made any move to pull away, and she was relieved that he seemed to want her presence just as much as she did. He could be angry at her all he liked and she could take it. Pushing her away, ignoring her, giving her the cold shoulder — now those would hurt.
If the cabbie was surprised by their destination, he made no indication. But it really wasn't a good part of town, the sort where pretty women like her could get sexually assaulted in her own apartment or roped into prostitution rings or doing drugs. It was, however, also the sort of place where a capable do-gooder like her would thrive, and he was probably already coming to his own conclusions while various women greeted her as they made their way up the stairs.
"Evenin', Gracie," a bleary-eyed young woman who looked like a waif greeted as she smoked on the stairwell. She glanced at Bucky, eyes widening in recognition, but she did not leer at him as she would've any other attractive man. Instead she turned to Steph with the same expression she wore when she saw them come up the stairs: respect.
"That's gonna kill you one day, Marta," Steph greeted in turn, in a somewhat motherly tone.
"Just celebratin' my second life, is all."
Steph would later explain, once they were in her apartment and out of earshot, that Marta had run away from an abusive husband. The bastard had stalked her and had been trying to break down her door while brandishing a knife when Steph stepped in. All those ladies who greeted her when they arrived, she had saved in some fashion. She never did like bullies.