Steve shrugged; it had been nice of them, but he'd never figured Fury for the altruistic type, and events during the Battle had only added to his skepticism of the generosity. "I think he felt bad after he saw how I reacted to being told what year it was." As well as the whole phony hospital cock-up he'd awoken to. Even Fury wasn't completely immune to Captain America's reputation, it seemed; so long as it didn't interfere with his schemes, he could afford to be generous.

But Fury was absolutely the last thing he wanted to think about right now, as well as those first few days where he'd been in shock over the entire situation. And Rogue gave him a perfect opening. "Speaking of lovely," he quirked a smile at her, "I didn't get around to saying before, but you look--stunning. I really like your dress."

They reached his bike, and Steve stashed the cooler against his artist portfolio, which held both his shield and a sketchbook this time. He didn't want to get lost in his head drawing when he was with her... but he'd had the vague thought that, if she was alright with it, he could sketch her today, relaxed, maybe laying down or sitting resting on her arms on the blanket. Now he wished he'd brought a small pack of colored pencils, to capture the vibrancy of her dress, the rich brown of her hair and eyes.