Steve knew just how incredibly lucky he'd been to have a best friend, really a brother, like Bucky. There were times he probably would have died if he hadn't had the people in his life to make him want to fight. "God's surely got an angel lookin' out for ya," his ma would say in her pretty Irish lilt. Bucky would snort and respond with "pretty sure the devil's there as back-up, too." Because he was a jerk, like that. Now, Steve imagined them as the cartoon angel and devil on his shoulders, whispering in his ear what to do. He was pretty sure they were both encouraging him with Rogue, although Bucky's would be a much earthier kind of encouragement.

When he realized just what she was talking about, Steve's eyes widened rather comically. He coughed, then cleared his throat. "Okay, okay," he said, "bank's closed, for now." He forced himself to ease up his hold on her, but didn't move his arm from around her shoulders. She fit too perfectly there to bring himself to release her. "So, anything else I should know about you? Or have we already officially run out of things to talk about?" He knew that wasn't true, but he was trying to stay light-hearted; he didn't want to discuss things that would make either of them cry, again. There had been plenty of tears today already. He'd just never been good at idle chit-chat, and he'd never known how to talk to a woman. Rogue was one of the easiest to talk to that he'd met, but that didn't really mean much.