"I should call him." It wasn't really a statement so much as a question. That said, it wasn't really a question, either. Steve wasn't sure what it was -- and for a guy who was really used to being sure about absolutely everything... It sat uncomfortably. A lot of things did, though. They'd been grinding into something that itched at the skin since Siberia. If he was honest, it went earlier, but pinning it down? That was impossible -- or maybe just not something he really wanted to pin down.
Steve walked into the room and stopped, turning his face toward Peggy. Then, slowly, he moved to sit down, dropping down like he was moving through water. When he finally got seated, he slapped the top of his knees and shook his head, brows quirked. His expression was a mix of uncertainty and frustration. "I don't know what to do," he admitted.
He knew how to fight, how to push, how to stand. Waiting, though? That, he'd never been great at. And he didn't know how the hell to deal with hurting a friend, with standing by a choice -- being unable to back down from it -- and having at the base of a wall that made it impossible to make anything better. Tiredly, he offered her a rueful smile. "Am I being dramatic again?"