Had he learned nothing else in his time touring with the girls, Steve had learned more than he had thought there had ever been to learn about how women dealt with hair and make-up and the (sometimes seemingly endless) layers of an outfit. As inconsequential as it might have seemed to have found clothes that fit the body that did not feel at all like his own, particularly given that he was not prone to dresses and lacy underthings himself, he couldn't deny that it was easier to manage the (hopefully temporary) transformation when he was not having to deal with tugging at and attempting to tuck his too large clothes around a body they had not been meant for.

The woman he had found in what had become one of his favorite places to read was beautiful, but coldly so, all knife-edges and drama to her. Nothing he thought to hold against her but one that made it easier to distance himself from the confusion of his own body and the hiccup of thought that came from the strangeness of her first statement.

He smiled, both for the fact that he meant no harm and for the fact that he saw no reason to be anything but cordial to the stranger. "That'd be great," he said, "As long as I'm not intruding."