As far as he could tell in the immediate shifting of his senses of everything of his surroundings and the body he stood in then, Steve could see nothing inherently dangerous or threatening. It should not have, then, incited a faint beat of panic in his veins that drew his eyes wide and had him having to fight the urge to reach for the woman before him with both hands and cling to her for a reason other than the desire to avoid falling over himself again.

He had known the harsh realities of war, fought for his life, the lives of his men, and those who could not fight for himself, hijacked Hydra tanks, submarines, stood toe to toe with both a literal Hydra beast and the friend he had lost so long ago. All should have left him immune to panicking at having found himself a woman, the situation he was sure one that might still prove to be laughable in retrospect. After all, whatever else might have been said about him, Steven Grant Rogers was known for being calm under fire.

"No," he shook his head, startled again at the hair that fell in his face with that vehement movement, pushing it out of his way with both hands. "I'm Captain Steve Rogers. I'm usually-" he waved his hands in half-frantic fluttering movements to indicate his body before he dropped them to his sides. "-taller."