Steve had been the recipient of knowing a minimum of three headstrong women in his life, with Marie now becoming the fourth; his mother, his surrogate sister Annie, and Peggy, who defied all definitions one could give her in relation to him. He wasn't sure if he was blessed with their presence in his life, or cursed; but they certainly made life interesting, that was a certainty.

Steve watched Marie's careful movements, and although he couldn't see her expression very clearly, he could tell that whatever the papers were, they meant a great deal. Despite the grave situation, he rolled his eyes in exasperation at her soft, dismissive words; it was clear she was hardly had him on her mind at the moment.

Leaning forward, he reached a hand out toward the papers, and her own now-bare hands; he didn't mean to touch either skin or paper, but merely offering his help as he said softly, "They'll dry better near the hearth, in the sitting room."