Steve nodded, more to himself, but also in answer to her question; he hadn't been sure she'd want to push the whole incident aside, try to put on a brave face, or if she was still working through too much to even consider it, but he'd had to ask. He honestly didn't care at that moment ─ there would be other fireworks, and even if there weren't, he'd rather see her happy again, any day. "Okay. That's fine," he soothed gently.
Feeling her trembling as much as hearing it in her voice, Steve didn't even bother to ask first, just bent slightly and scooped her up in a bridal carry (easy, since she already had her arms around his neck). Remembering at the last second that he'd originally started making sandwiches for her as well as himself, he just pushed the knife off the cutting board and grabbed the whole thing with the hand he had wrapped around her legs. His arm still braced under her legs, Steve turned and made his way over to the couch. He bent at the knees so not to displace Rogue, set the cutting board on the coffee table (beside the ashtray he'd forgotten to put out of sight, damn), then just sat down on the couch, keeping her in his arms, now nestled like a child after a nightmare.
He'd give her a few more minutes, then suggest she eat something. He knew how tears could take it out of you, both emotionally and physically, and she'd already been hungry before this had even started. She didn't look sickly-thin, but Steve came from a time before 'heroin-chic' had ever been a thing, and─not that he'd ever tell Rogue this─personally he preferred women with a little more curve than was fashionable nowadays. He thought she was beautiful, and always would, but he certainly wouldn't complain if she managed to gain a few pounds. (Again, never something he would actually tell her─he may not know much about women, but he hadn't been born yesterday, either.)
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Feeling her trembling as much as hearing it in her voice, Steve didn't even bother to ask first, just bent slightly and scooped her up in a bridal carry (easy, since she already had her arms around his neck). Remembering at the last second that he'd originally started making sandwiches for her as well as himself, he just pushed the knife off the cutting board and grabbed the whole thing with the hand he had wrapped around her legs. His arm still braced under her legs, Steve turned and made his way over to the couch. He bent at the knees so not to displace Rogue, set the cutting board on the coffee table (beside the ashtray he'd forgotten to put out of sight, damn), then just sat down on the couch, keeping her in his arms, now nestled like a child after a nightmare.
He'd give her a few more minutes, then suggest she eat something. He knew how tears could take it out of you, both emotionally and physically, and she'd already been hungry before this had even started. She didn't look sickly-thin, but Steve came from a time before 'heroin-chic' had ever been a thing, and─not that he'd ever tell Rogue this─personally he preferred women with a little more curve than was fashionable nowadays. He thought she was beautiful, and always would, but he certainly wouldn't complain if she managed to gain a few pounds. (Again, never something he would actually tell her─he may not know much about women, but he hadn't been born yesterday, either.)