"Isn't it?" he asks quietly, conspiratorially. As if Steve can tell him honestly and he'll never tell. Arching an eyebrow, he twists the spear in place idly, careful to draw back the tiniest bit so it doesn't gouge - but the blade almost-scraping over skin promises that indeed it can should he change his mind.
"What if I were to say that there was another option, captain?"
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"What if I were to say that there was another option, captain?"