The last time he had been stumbling on new limbs and bare feet, Steve had expected to have been given a new body. The parallels between that frantic chase through Brooklyn streets and his attempting to make it from his room to anyone who might have answers (or, at the very least, clothes that might fit so he could move without worrying that he might lose his shorts) were hardly lost on him, Although he could say that at least he had not lost someone to a violent and undeserved end in the process.
Having never been anything but all skin and bones or, more recently, all muscle and sinew, the sensation of being in a body of feminine curves that bounced and swayed with every movement was more than a little alarming. It made him wonder, even in the midst of his confusion and something he wasn't too proud to realize might have been a little like panic, how women managed to be as efficient and capable as he knew many of them were with such distracting sensations. How could they not be hyper aware of their own bodies when they were not built of solid lines and hard planes.
He had paused, scraping back the length of his hair from his face with both hands, feeling all too awkward in that new bone structure and contemplating the shape of his hips, when he heard the deep make voice speak. It took a second to realize that he was the one being addressed, leaving him blinking in no little confusion before that realization set in and he turned back from looking over his shoulder to see what woman was being spoken to.
"I am having," he said with a heavy sigh, dropping his hands to his hips before having to resist his hands to actually curl around the wider shape of them. "The strangest day."
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Having never been anything but all skin and bones or, more recently, all muscle and sinew, the sensation of being in a body of feminine curves that bounced and swayed with every movement was more than a little alarming. It made him wonder, even in the midst of his confusion and something he wasn't too proud to realize might have been a little like panic, how women managed to be as efficient and capable as he knew many of them were with such distracting sensations. How could they not be hyper aware of their own bodies when they were not built of solid lines and hard planes.
He had paused, scraping back the length of his hair from his face with both hands, feeling all too awkward in that new bone structure and contemplating the shape of his hips, when he heard the deep make voice speak. It took a second to realize that he was the one being addressed, leaving him blinking in no little confusion before that realization set in and he turned back from looking over his shoulder to see what woman was being spoken to.
"I am having," he said with a heavy sigh, dropping his hands to his hips before having to resist his hands to actually curl around the wider shape of them. "The strangest day."