[His hand paused at the introduction, his head swinging around with a piqued interest, and he shifted his weight to let his foot fall back to the tiles. His fingers twitched over the bloody patch and something shifted from cold to rather warm in a matter of seconds.
Rumlow had blushed in grade school when humiliated by another student. His natural complexion didn't allow for much blushing, and yet, as his gaze slid over the Captain with a perplexed kind of interest, he felt his cheeks heat. It was surreal, and he cleared his throat a moment later, bustling about staunching the blood. He wiped it away and then froze.
The name S. Rogers persisted through the scar tissue as if physically telling him off.]
Yeah, I get that, Cap. [He hastily buttoned his fatigues and washed his hands of any remnant, then splashed water on his face to cool off. It wasn't to be. Never could be. Never would be.
Still, he outstretched a hand casual-like.] I'm Brock Rumlow, commander of STRIKE Alpha. Don't worry about me; I take care of myself and my own. A pleasure to meet you... what do you like to be called?
no subject
Rumlow had blushed in grade school when humiliated by another student. His natural complexion didn't allow for much blushing, and yet, as his gaze slid over the Captain with a perplexed kind of interest, he felt his cheeks heat. It was surreal, and he cleared his throat a moment later, bustling about staunching the blood. He wiped it away and then froze.
The name S. Rogers persisted through the scar tissue as if physically telling him off.]
Yeah, I get that, Cap. [He hastily buttoned his fatigues and washed his hands of any remnant, then splashed water on his face to cool off. It wasn't to be. Never could be. Never would be.
Still, he outstretched a hand casual-like.] I'm Brock Rumlow, commander of STRIKE Alpha. Don't worry about me; I take care of myself and my own. A pleasure to meet you... what do you like to be called?