( normally he'd have a hard time reconciling the thought of something foreign in his head. something in his mind that only he can hear. the thing is... it doesn't feel threatening to him. maybe because he's actually the source of it, an old memory pulled from his brain, whether he consciously knows it or not. something to be concerned about? maybe. there's probably some kind of psychic... music-echoing parrot or some weird fungus that puts a song in your head you can't shake. could be anything. could be nothing. can't really imagine what there is out here that they couldn't handle between the two of them.
he huffs in feigned offense at the question. )
You really gotta ask?
( you know he's Bogart.
but he can still see the trepidation lingering there, and he gets it. he does. he's not drunk on anything, he's not off his rocker. he reaches out in turn, curling flesh and bone fingers around Steve's bicep to offer up a reassuring squeeze. )
Look... if it gets any weirder, we'll turn around and go back. No question.
no subject
he huffs in feigned offense at the question. )
You really gotta ask?
( you know he's Bogart.
but he can still see the trepidation lingering there, and he gets it. he does. he's not drunk on anything, he's not off his rocker. he reaches out in turn, curling flesh and bone fingers around Steve's bicep to offer up a reassuring squeeze. )
Look... if it gets any weirder, we'll turn around and go back. No question.