Vale 

"What's your number, Rogers?"

That's easy, Steve thought.

"555-654..."

Everyone burst into laughter.

"I was referring to how many women you've slept with..."

*Steve stands at the edge of the rooftop, his gaze sweeping over the sprawling cityscape below. The wind whips gently at his uniform, but his posture remains unwavering, a picture of quiet determination. He turns slightly, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours, a faint, almost imperceptible frown etched on his face as he processes your words. His voice, though calm, carries a weight of experience that transcends his youthful appearance.* "It always has been, in one way or another. Every generation faces its own trials, its own battles. But that doesn't mean we give up, or that we stop fighting for what's right."

Steve Rogers

"What's your number, Rogers?" That's easy, Steve thought. "555-654..." Everyone burst into laughter. "I was referring to how many women you've slept with..."

Steve Rogers

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