He manages a smile at her, then looks both ways before jogging across the street and into the park. One of the street vendors near its entrance looks up and nods to him, and he nods back - the man is a Vietnam vet, Steve discovered on his third visit to the place. Even not knowing why the Captain comes here every Saturday like clockwork, leaving flowers on the fountain rim, the guy still knows it's important and it's private. There's a kind of brotherhood in it that Steve finds grounding. It's like shared mourning, almost, for things lost that others can't understand.
The Captain slows when he reaches the tables, carefully avoiding the eyes of those present. Most of them don't look up. They're busy with papers, meals, a Saturday at work or a weekend business meeting. Life at high-speed in a city that's forgotten what it means to be a home front.
Steve stops at the fountain and sits down on the rim, turning the flowers over in his hands again. Quietly, enough that's it's almost drowned out by the falling water, he says, "The woman at the shop said this one is for courage and bluntness. I thought... I figured you'd appreciate that, even if the flower isn't your taste."
He starts to set them down when someone hails him. "Captain America! Or excuse me, Captain Rogers. Dennis Turing, The Daily Globe. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time."
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He manages a smile at her, then looks both ways before jogging across the street and into the park. One of the street vendors near its entrance looks up and nods to him, and he nods back - the man is a Vietnam vet, Steve discovered on his third visit to the place. Even not knowing why the Captain comes here every Saturday like clockwork, leaving flowers on the fountain rim, the guy still knows it's important and it's private. There's a kind of brotherhood in it that Steve finds grounding. It's like shared mourning, almost, for things lost that others can't understand.
The Captain slows when he reaches the tables, carefully avoiding the eyes of those present. Most of them don't look up. They're busy with papers, meals, a Saturday at work or a weekend business meeting. Life at high-speed in a city that's forgotten what it means to be a home front.
Steve stops at the fountain and sits down on the rim, turning the flowers over in his hands again. Quietly, enough that's it's almost drowned out by the falling water, he says, "The woman at the shop said this one is for courage and bluntness. I thought... I figured you'd appreciate that, even if the flower isn't your taste."
He starts to set them down when someone hails him. "Captain America! Or excuse me, Captain Rogers. Dennis Turing, The Daily Globe. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time."