There's a momentary pause as her eyes lower to his bag, and then she looks back up at him. There's a glimmer of mischief evident there. "Just plums? Are you planning on making a cobbler?" It's all a little forced casual, like she's leaning in to the sparks of humor on purpose. It's an indirect angle, but she figures it's going to be more likely to put him at ease than...well, Steve Rogers and his star spangled head on directness. Don't get her wrong, she's already prepared to call Steve a good friend, but they have very different styles.
It's been years since she's been here, and the years haven't been kind to the property. She almost can't recognize it. Which is maybe a good thing, because it's already hard to look at him without seeing an overlay of memories. Just on the other side of the room, she'd leaned up and whispered his name in his ear to rattle his missing time loose. It's never been easy to coax those memories free. Something tells her it's going to be even harder now. There's too many years stretching between them.
She waits until he takes a fry before eating another one, a thoughtful look on her face as she considers his question. "Sam's the guy with Steve," she confirms. "Falcon. He's got the exo-wings. They're following you because Steve is worried about you, and Sam wants to help him. There's a fairly comprehensive search happening for you. I don't think the term 'unprecedented international cooperation' would go amiss."
The fries are good, but she wishes she had the foresight to get a drink with them. She's going to consider it a victory that he's tasting them, at least. "Steve wants to find you before anyone else can. He wants to keep you safe." She leans forward, folding her arms on the edge of the table as she waits to see how that lands.
At least she can congratulate herself on her composure later. She's spent most of the last several years convinced she'd never get to talk to him again.
no subject
It's been years since she's been here, and the years haven't been kind to the property. She almost can't recognize it. Which is maybe a good thing, because it's already hard to look at him without seeing an overlay of memories. Just on the other side of the room, she'd leaned up and whispered his name in his ear to rattle his missing time loose. It's never been easy to coax those memories free. Something tells her it's going to be even harder now. There's too many years stretching between them.
She waits until he takes a fry before eating another one, a thoughtful look on her face as she considers his question. "Sam's the guy with Steve," she confirms. "Falcon. He's got the exo-wings. They're following you because Steve is worried about you, and Sam wants to help him. There's a fairly comprehensive search happening for you. I don't think the term 'unprecedented international cooperation' would go amiss."
The fries are good, but she wishes she had the foresight to get a drink with them. She's going to consider it a victory that he's tasting them, at least. "Steve wants to find you before anyone else can. He wants to keep you safe." She leans forward, folding her arms on the edge of the table as she waits to see how that lands.
At least she can congratulate herself on her composure later. She's spent most of the last several years convinced she'd never get to talk to him again.