"You should fuss around with some of the apps and stuff. You can get nearly anything on your phone, it's grand. Like- oh, I've a police scanner on my phone, and it's so handy, I always know why the cops are in the building now or what's going on nearby, so you never step out the door and bam, middle of a taped-off area and now the police are shouting at you for blundering into it." It's his own fault really, he should be paying better attention before he just goes jogging out the door, instead of bolting out and snagging himself right up in the tape and then getting yelled at.
It's a little funny hearing Steve talk about doing jobs for folks in his neighbourhood. He knows this by now, but it still always catches him a little by surprise that Steve Rogers is as good as he's supposed to be. It's nice y'know? Like maybe some stuff actually does work out the way it's supposed to. Like some people actually do mean it when they say they're good people, instead of just faking through it.
"That's nice of you! Hopefully the good-old-days talk is fun instead of maddening. Some of the stuff they talk about, I swear to God, it's like do you hear what you're saying? You want to go back to that?" He sighs and shrugs, "I've gotten pretty good at just nodding along and changing the subject when it gets nasty. Hopefully you've mostly got good stories about old times, instead of the tiring ones."
"I help a little with a couple of the old folks downstairs, but mostly that's me changing the hallway bulbs before we all break our necks, and then they yell at me to come help them with their apartment because at least Mrs. Wilson thinks I'm working for the super. It's not so bad though, she just mostly can't reach anything over her shoulders, so I'm slowly dragging her apartment down to like, chest-height." He raises a hand to mock it out, and it's below Sean's chest height, that's for sure. "My god do they just shrink up. I'm half afraid to lay eyes on my ma again, she'll be nothing more than the fiercest looking doll-sized woman you'll have ever seen. Nobody can lay a guilt trip like her, nobody. Just like the nuns. Same sharp eyes - did you get those? Or did you go public when you were a kid?"
Sean looked up a little bit after he met Rogers at the gym, but nothing more than a quick skim on wikipedia, since it felt strange reading up on a man's life when he couldn't do the same. He knows Steve was born in New York and raised here, and he knows he went off to fight the war after being part of some experiment, and then he crashed in the ocean rather than let the nazis nuke America, but he doesn't know the details. Did young Steve Rogers have to put up with nuns? And jesus, old school nuns too, the ones who wouldn't get in even a little trouble for smacking your hand wide open with a ruler.
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It's a little funny hearing Steve talk about doing jobs for folks in his neighbourhood. He knows this by now, but it still always catches him a little by surprise that Steve Rogers is as good as he's supposed to be. It's nice y'know? Like maybe some stuff actually does work out the way it's supposed to. Like some people actually do mean it when they say they're good people, instead of just faking through it.
"That's nice of you! Hopefully the good-old-days talk is fun instead of maddening. Some of the stuff they talk about, I swear to God, it's like do you hear what you're saying? You want to go back to that?" He sighs and shrugs, "I've gotten pretty good at just nodding along and changing the subject when it gets nasty. Hopefully you've mostly got good stories about old times, instead of the tiring ones."
"I help a little with a couple of the old folks downstairs, but mostly that's me changing the hallway bulbs before we all break our necks, and then they yell at me to come help them with their apartment because at least Mrs. Wilson thinks I'm working for the super. It's not so bad though, she just mostly can't reach anything over her shoulders, so I'm slowly dragging her apartment down to like, chest-height." He raises a hand to mock it out, and it's below Sean's chest height, that's for sure. "My god do they just shrink up. I'm half afraid to lay eyes on my ma again, she'll be nothing more than the fiercest looking doll-sized woman you'll have ever seen. Nobody can lay a guilt trip like her, nobody. Just like the nuns. Same sharp eyes - did you get those? Or did you go public when you were a kid?"
Sean looked up a little bit after he met Rogers at the gym, but nothing more than a quick skim on wikipedia, since it felt strange reading up on a man's life when he couldn't do the same. He knows Steve was born in New York and raised here, and he knows he went off to fight the war after being part of some experiment, and then he crashed in the ocean rather than let the nazis nuke America, but he doesn't know the details. Did young Steve Rogers have to put up with nuns? And jesus, old school nuns too, the ones who wouldn't get in even a little trouble for smacking your hand wide open with a ruler.