( it's hard to miss the pink doormat in front of the threshold, or the name plate just above the mail slot — hart, k. — decorated with silver glitter. so she likes a little flair. so what? it's like decorating your locker, totally normal. clary did hers too, so it's at least two against two on this particular issue for the third floor. )
[ It's starting to seem like most of the people he knows or meets just aren't located in his building. But that's probably for the best. Better to branch outside his building when he can. Get to know the people he probably won't see on an everyday sort of basis.
Steve does just as he promises. He stops at a market on the way. He's not entirely sure what to make, but he'll wing it. He grabs what he needs and heads towards Gamma Building. It actually is easy to spot her door when he gets there. Not that he knows pink is the Kimberly Hart special, but the glittery name plate is actually fairly easy to distinguish from all the others. Apparently she got creative. Good for her. For half a second he runs the tip of his index finger along the name before he balls his fist up and knocks. ]
( it doesn't take her long at all to answer the door. the rooms really aren't that big, after all, and she's... well, not excited exactly, that doesn't seem like the right word, but not not excited either. she's looking forward to seeing him, to finding out exactly how this particular evening is going to go, and that energy results in a quick stroll across the living room towards the door.
with a swing, the door opens up wide, revealing kimberly's friendly smile that lights up all five foot six inches of her thin frame. there's no hesitation in gesturing him inside, or in taking those bags right out of his arms, setting them on her kitchen counters to be investigated and doled out as needed; once the door closes and locks behind him, she's all too glad to spin back around and peer up at him. )
I thought you said no more than five minutes, Mr Rogers?
[ Steve's used to everyone looking young these days. It doesn't really occur to him to ask Kimberly how old she really is. Who knows if he'd even be bothered? Back in his time people were getting married a lot younger. Then again a war was going on and people were afraid. Fear made you do all sorts of funny things. He knows that from experience. But eighteen is eighteen. He remembers being eighteen. Then again eighteen is a lot different here in this time. People are different. Everything is pretty much different than what Steve Rogers remembers. Which is why he knew he had to adapt. Not wait for others.
She's youthful. Small. But that doesn't mean much. She's eager. Steve smiles as she takes the bags and he steps inside. He follows her into the kitchen where she breaks off to close the door behind him. He's about to turn to the bags when she's back facing him again. Steve smiles and shrugs his shoulders. ] I think I said you had five minutes to be ready. I don't remember giving myself a timer.
[ Which is why he's smiling as he turns to the bags to take everything out. He knew that going to the market was going to take a little bit of time. ] You can just call me Steve though. [ The only people to ever call him Mr. Rogers were back when he was enlisting. Ever since then it's always been Captain or Captain Rogers. Though these days he's more civilian than anything else. He might have to start getting used to Mr. Rogers. ]
Okay, Steve. ( it's strange, how the word feels like so strange in her mouth. she's met guys named steve and variations of it before; it's not as if the name has completely gone out of fashion, but there's something about the way he says it that makes it feel... well, old-fashioned, for lack of a better word.
the banter is easy, almost friendly in a way, as they unload the bags and settle things out against the countertops, and while kimberly hasn't exactly made a mental checklist of her kitchen's assorted accessories, it doesn't take too much rummaging before she finds the pots and pans in their cabinet homes. there's not much else beyond the basics, but it's enough to cook a meal. she hopes, anyway. )
You know, I can't think of the last time a guy offered to make me dinner. ( or wanted to have dinner in an apartment, for that matter. most of her dates — the ones that could actually be referred to as dates, anyway — had involved the standby classic of dinner out, meeting up somewhere on neutral ground to see how things would go before determining the rest of the evening. but there was something about him, something trustworthy, that made her a little more willing to welcome him in like this. to not feel quite so much on display. ) You're going to spoil me if you keep this up.
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i'm normally more of a mid-afternoon zumba kind of girl
but i can hold my own in the ring
i must have missed you at fight club
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I'm not a fight club kinda guy. I fight when I have to. Not to show off.
But I recognize the need to spar. Keeps you fresh. Maybe I can pay you back that way?
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normally there's the whole 'use your powers for good' concept
but a girl's got to make a living
( is she humming what would you do completely inappropriately? maybe. )
i'm not sure a sparring match counts towards your tab
but i'm not saying no, either
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I figure I can make money a little easier than that. I was gonna offer some self defense classes back in Eudio. Might try that here.
What if I taught you some really good moves? I'm not bad.
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make it a one-on-one class and you've got a deal
but you're not off the hook for that date, in case you were wondering
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Course it'd be one on one. More personal attention that way.
Never. I'm holding you to it.
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and i certainly hope that's not the only thing you'll be holding me to
( there we go, there's that sexual innuendo. good job, kimberly, you resisted for this long. what an accomplishment. )
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I mean. Maybe if you ask nice.
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( she's #flexible. and, quite literally, flexible. cheerleader and all that. splits. good times. )
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I might be persuaded if you don't wanna ask nicely. It's up to you. Ladies choice.
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i think i'll have to consider that one
see where the mood takes me after that date
speaking of: when did you have in mind?
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[ Still the most innocent of the flowers. ]
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( her availability. and/or alternative meanings. either or. )
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[ She did say wide open. ]
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what'd you have in mind?
( steve rogers you would pick right now, you beautiful demon. give a girl five minutes notice at least to fix her hair, jeez. )
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I'd hate to drag you out. I can cook. If you have pots and pans.
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i just wasn't dressed to leave my apartment
but i can be
i just need five minutes
and you're welcome to come over either way
but i couldn't tell you if i have pots and pans or not
i haven't exactly explored the kitchen
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[ Wow, Steve, someone's bossy. ]
I'll just bank on this place being wise enough to bestow you with them. Anything you like eating?
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the list of what i like is much longer than what i don't
though i don't exactly have anything in my fridge
so unless you're planning on ordering in...
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I'll grab some things from a market on my way.
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( it's hard to miss the pink doormat in front of the threshold, or the name plate just above the mail slot — hart, k. — decorated with silver glitter. so she likes a little flair. so what? it's like decorating your locker, totally normal. clary did hers too, so it's at least two against two on this particular issue for the third floor. )
i'll be here :)
shorty action tag but yolo
Steve does just as he promises. He stops at a market on the way. He's not entirely sure what to make, but he'll wing it. He grabs what he needs and heads towards Gamma Building. It actually is easy to spot her door when he gets there. Not that he knows pink is the Kimberly Hart special, but the glittery name plate is actually fairly easy to distinguish from all the others. Apparently she got creative. Good for her. For half a second he runs the tip of his index finger along the name before he balls his fist up and knocks. ]
ya okay let's see how long that lasts
with a swing, the door opens up wide, revealing kimberly's friendly smile that lights up all five foot six inches of her thin frame. there's no hesitation in gesturing him inside, or in taking those bags right out of his arms, setting them on her kitchen counters to be investigated and doled out as needed; once the door closes and locks behind him, she's all too glad to spin back around and peer up at him. )
I thought you said no more than five minutes, Mr Rogers?
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She's youthful. Small. But that doesn't mean much. She's eager. Steve smiles as she takes the bags and he steps inside. He follows her into the kitchen where she breaks off to close the door behind him. He's about to turn to the bags when she's back facing him again. Steve smiles and shrugs his shoulders. ] I think I said you had five minutes to be ready. I don't remember giving myself a timer.
[ Which is why he's smiling as he turns to the bags to take everything out. He knew that going to the market was going to take a little bit of time. ] You can just call me Steve though. [ The only people to ever call him Mr. Rogers were back when he was enlisting. Ever since then it's always been Captain or Captain Rogers. Though these days he's more civilian than anything else. He might have to start getting used to Mr. Rogers. ]
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the banter is easy, almost friendly in a way, as they unload the bags and settle things out against the countertops, and while kimberly hasn't exactly made a mental checklist of her kitchen's assorted accessories, it doesn't take too much rummaging before she finds the pots and pans in their cabinet homes. there's not much else beyond the basics, but it's enough to cook a meal. she hopes, anyway. )
You know, I can't think of the last time a guy offered to make me dinner. ( or wanted to have dinner in an apartment, for that matter. most of her dates — the ones that could actually be referred to as dates, anyway — had involved the standby classic of dinner out, meeting up somewhere on neutral ground to see how things would go before determining the rest of the evening. but there was something about him, something trustworthy, that made her a little more willing to welcome him in like this. to not feel quite so much on display. ) You're going to spoil me if you keep this up.
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