You know, if people keep doing that, we won't have anything left when we get hit by a real emergency.

[ he shouldn't snap. it's not as though anything that's happened today is her fault. none of it is anyone's fault except for his.

he finally shed his dress greens entirely, leaving tunic and tie in the room where he woke up, folded next to the flag. he's left in sepia-toned slacks and shirt, shirt filthy from time spent outside, hair mussed, face smudged with dirt. he'll deal with it later. it's not important right now.

he still has the unpainted shield on one arm. he tells himself it's for security, so no one takes it, but the truth is it make him feel more secure. like there's still something solid and reliable left in the world.

steve clears his throat. ]

Sorry. But there are a lot of us here.