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Without another assignment from the CIA and all of her debriefing over, Sharon's been going nearly crazy. She doesn't sleep, she doesn't have any real family around that wants to see her. She has no friends. She has training, the weird, generous group who are letting her crash with them, and a lot of hard memories. So, she's been spending a LOT of time in the gym. After the spar with CLint that left them both bruised and hurting bad, she did nothing but take a shower, sleep a few hours, and go back to it. The bruises are clear on her flesh now, especially arms and legs. She's wearing nothing but a sports bra and a pair of loose shorts, skin already glistening with sweat as she leans into the bag, repeated hits coming in rapid, dangerous sucession. She's not bothered to wrap her hands. She's going to regret that later.
*
The door to the gym opens with a creak that cries for oil. Does everything in this place need to be replaced? Perhaps, but Steve can't worry about that right now. He approaches from the side and can see the bruises upon her arms and legs. He's not sure if they're new or from her time in Vietnam. Either way he's carrying a white sack in his hands. The choice in attire seems to take Steve by surprise and he wonders if he should actually be somewhere else now. The old ways die hard. "Brought you something to eat. Wanted to check in and see how the adaptation to normal life was going."
*
It's a few last rounds, Sharon finishing up the pattern she was doing and then tossing in a few other, more sloppy hits. They aren't trained hits, they are just the hits of a woman who is getting something out. She doesn't know what, but she wasn't mentally ready to end. Her body clearly was physically ready to end, though. She stops, jerking around to face him, panting hard for a few moments. She's flushed and ragged, blonde hair sticking against her face. "Eat?…you…take lunch in the gym?" She asks with a ragged, tired breath. But at least she hasn't hit him.
*
"Sharon, there must be some things you don't understand about men," Steve deadpans. "We take lunch wherever we can get it." He hands the sack out towards, her. "Bacon cheeseburger. Frank's Tavern—greasiest and best burgers in town. That is for sure."
*
A smirk crosses her lips as he says that, still trying to look skeptical about it, but she cannot look too angry about it when he's offering her a bacon cheeseburger. "…You men are ridiculous. But… I won't say no." She mutters with a gruff sort of laugh. She brushes her forearm across her face, moving some of the sweat away, before grabbing at her towel and actually brushing down some of the sweat from her before she wraps the towel around the back of her neck and grabs the burger. Her stomach audibly rumbles. She probably didn't eat breakfast.
*
"That might be true, but at least on this one you know I'm right," Steve replies with a chuckle as he leans against the wall. "Any news on what the CIA is going to do with you? I realize that it might be secret, and that if you tell me you'll likely have to kill me. So, I know that going in."
*
The woman steps over to a bench, so she doesn't actually drip grease on the floor, then she settles down onto the benches and actually begins to pick at the burger. She eats like someone who doesn't actually know when their next meal is coming, slightly over protective and a little too quick. Probably lingering issues from the field. Sharon looks up from the food, smirking quietly at him, "You gonna eat too, or just stand there and watch? Get comfortable." She nods to the bench or mat near her. "ANd…no. They told me to 'take a vacation'." Sharon sounds like she wants to murder someone, having heard that.
*
"Vacations are nice," Steve says as he takes a seat next to her. "I hear Lisbon is wonderful this time of year." He looks to her burger, "Nah, I already ate mine." There's a chuckle and a grin that follows.
*
This close, she smells like woman. Sweaty, feminine, a touch gritty, but it's definitely noticable. She's been working on that bag a while. And a touch of the powder that was on her now-raw knuckles. SHe's cracked at least two of them. Sharon doesn't seem to care. "Lisbon? Did a few months there for… a thing. It was nice. Don't care to go back. Vacations… I'd go stir crazy. Maybe I'll take some private work."
*
"That's not a bad idea," Steve admits. "Does the CIA allow that sort of thing?" He stretches his legs out and leans back against the bench. "You got a thing against taping up, or just want to show that bag whose boss?"
*
"If they aren't giving me work, then they can go shove it. Frankly, I'm tired of their sexist bullshit after almost ten years serving them. And… it was better to beat up the bag than my director's face, but… I needed to hit something." And really hit it, not with kid gloves or tape. He might hear the hard edge to her voice. Part of her needed the pain, it seems. Sharon shrugs a bare shoulder, "Yes, this is the part where you can lecture me, Captain-Do-Good."
*
"About which part am I supposed to lecture you? Other than the language, I mean," Steve says with a shrug of his shoulders. "It's a tough world for women. Anyone who doesn't agree either isn't paying attention or has an ulterior motive."
*
A half laugh comes about the language. "You have to be kidding me? Right? You were in the military…" Sharon seems genuinely bemused that it's the LANGUAGE that's getting him. She takes another bite of her burger. "…And no. The part about not taping up my hands. Not like I'm getting into a real fight any time soon. Though it was fun to kick Hawkeye's ass. I'm certain he looks worse than I do now."
*
Steve's eyebrows raise and he makes an impressed face when Sharon mentions giving Hawkeye a beat down. "That's pretty impressive. I mean, beating down a circus performer takes guts." His grin widens, as he's obviously joking.
*
"Think he might send all the carnies after me? Shit. I gotta watch out for clowns, now…" Sharon deadpans, but her smirk lingers behind her eyes. "And yeah, we went a few rounds last night. He'd already half worn himself out on the bag so it wasn't entirely fair but… I think I could still take him. We'll have to see again." She might not be an Avenger. There is absolutely nothing super human about Sharon Carter, but she still has that Carter fire. The kick ass determination that says she will be as best as any regular human CAN be and then some. She takes one last bite of the burger before offering the other half in his direction. "Here, tall, blonde and hyper-metabolized… I eat more of this I'm gonna puke. You finish."
*
Steve laughs out loud in an authentic guffaw at her joke, "The idea of you beating up clowns is to die for." He looks to the burger she's offering and shakes his head, "That's alright. I already ate. You can save it in the fridge and I'm thirty percent sure it'll make it until next time."
*
That draws an arch of an eyebrow, but she wraps the burger up in it's own wrapping, having eaten fairly neatly, if quickly, and slips it back in the bag. Saved for later it is. "Seriously, though, I didn't know he was a circus act. Know nothing about the guy except he's definitely a decent sparring partner. Almost tempts me to stay around. I'm not going to find work outs like this in some apartment building or hotel."
*
"Stay around as long as you like. We got the room, and a family member of Peg's is a friend of mine. Your aunt helped me out of more jams than I care to count. If we can help you out in the interim while you wait for your assignment, all the better."
*
Now that she's done eating, and she can already feel abused muscles starting to settle into stiffness, Sharon pulls herself up off the bench and steps over to the mat so she can sink into some deep, much needed stretches. Her right hip pops, probably some old injury, and the top of a line of scar that can be seen just above her shorts will confirm that. Sharon keeps going through the motions, though, frame arching in all sorts of interesting ways. "She was starry eyed over you. We… grew up with all sorts of stories about Steve Rogers. But… I don't want to be a… bother. Sorta shitty of me to just hang around like some fan girl riding the Avenger coat tails. I'll find a place in a few days. I guess I'm stuck in New York for now…"
*
Steve shakes his head, "I don't think of you as a fan girl. Not at all. And it's really no problem. We pay the same no matter what and there's plenty of space. I'll understand when you want to head out, but don't feel like you have to."
*
The lean woman dips deeply into a stretch of her legs, knees splayed out to the side and butt nearly on the matt. From the look on her face, it feels good, pulling hard at abudctors. "I just… I want to be useful. I am going to literally go nuts sitting around doing nothing, waiting for men to fight a war."
*
"You could come fight with us," Steve says, throwing it out there. "We could use someone who is good at blending in and has a spy's background. That is, until the CIA gives you your next assignment, of course."
*
The woman is quiet for several heartbeats, watching him from her crouched position. Sharon is carefully gauging her reaction to this offer and holding back the initial, bitter dismissal. He doesn't deserve that. Slowly, she unfolds and stands straight, "You…asked any of the others how they feel about that? I mean… I'm not opposed. Not that I've worked on a team… for a long time." If ever.
*
"I haven't," Steve says with a shake of the head. He shrugs his shoulders, "But I know what they'd say." He stands up and gives a bit of a stretch. "If you decide you're interested, let me know. We could use the hand." He sighs, "As for me, I have some more tiling to do. We'll catch you around."
*
"…Thanks for the burger. It… it was probably the best food I've had since I got back. Seriously. Thank you." There. Sharon Carter can be emotional and grateful. She's not just the gruff bitch she often shows. A crack of a smile slivers across her lips as she waves after him, "And…talk to the team. If they want me, well… I'll stick around."