Into the Snow || A Captain America Love Story

16

"Watch your step," I call to Steve as we sprint across the tops of buildings.
"Thanks," Steve says, avoiding the cracks on the rooftop.
Our feet clomp against the gravel that is spread across the rooftops. The "being concealed" part, as I am clearly known for, is the least of my worries. My eyes scan the large building that one of the men went into - the one with the box.
     "Down here," I tell Steve, pointing to a ladder.
     "Got it," he says, going down first.
     His feet clang against the metal bars, as they did before. Once he motions me to start going down, I place my feet where he had stepped. Slowly and carefully, we climb down the endless ladder.
     Steve grunts when he hops off the fourth bar closest to the ground. He holds out a hand for me when I reach the bottom bars. I gratefully take it with my unusual wobbling legs.
     "Thank you," I breathe, stepping onto the cement.
     "My pleasure," he whispers, and steps back.
     "Now finding the entrance." I say.
     "I thought you already saw it."
     "Nope, my apologies."
     We examine the building, trying to find the best place to go in. The both of us eventually sigh of defeat when we find no door or an easy entrance.
     "I can't find anything," Steve mutters.
     "Me neither," I say.
     He tries to lean against the wall that is behind us, but he ends up placing his full palms onto a glass door. He gasps, not realizing the door and then looks at me.
     "I did not notice that," he says, laughing nervously.
     "I don't recall this place even being open." I say, staring at my reflection in the glass.
     My eyes adjust and I can make out the inside. I gaze at the fancy assortment of clothes: button up shirts, blazers, loafers, expensive dresses, jewelry, high heels, scarves, et cetera.
     I stop at the Open sign that hangs in the window on the door. I gasp and then look at the unoccupied desk.
     "I-It's open," I whisper. "But there's no one in there."
     "Wait! I see someone." Steve exclaims, pointing to a woman inside.
     Steve quickly holds his shield sideways behind himself and opens the door, a little bell ringing as we step in. A middle-aged woman's head snaps up and her face is full with excitement.
     "Oh, hello!" the woman says in a Romanian accent. "Claudia, customers! I am so sorry, I never get customers this time of day."
She wears a plaid scarf, black sweater, and jeans. She definitely seems older, but not over fifty five. Her salt-and-pepper hair is pulled into a clean bun on the top of her head. She is somewhat pretty, her beautiful smile and blue eyes are to die for.
"What are you two lovelies looking for?" she asks us.
     "Just browsing," I say to her, gazing at the clothing.
     "Ah, I see," she says. "I will leave you two to it, then. But, let me know if you would like my assistance."
     "Thank you," Steve says to her, directing me behind a display of dresses.
     He stares at me with suspicious, yet worried eyes. "Should we trust her?"
     "I-I really don't know," I admit. "But she doesn't seem to be a threat."
     "Keep in mind that we're next to a H.Y.D.R.A. base." he says, moving closer to me to conceal his bulky body.
     "Steve," I sigh. "Let's wait a while and see what we can get out of her."
     I drag Steve from behind the dresses and to the blazers. I grab the closest one and put it in front of Steve's torso, trying to make it seem as if we were truly looking at the kind lady's merchandise.
     I hear a pair of heavy, exaggerated steps. I put the blazer down and scan the room, searching for the culprit. A young woman comes down a set of stairs, looking extremely melancholy. She is probably around her early twenties, maybe younger. Her long bleach blonde hair flows down her obviously once spray tanned skin. She wears a pink floral dress and a black leather jacket with pounds of black eyeshadow and eyeliner piled onto her face. Her blue eyes are filled with annoyance, followed by her facial expression. Yes, definitely early twenties.
     "Yes, Mother?" the girl asks sarcastically in her, might I say, very high pitched and annoying voice.
     "Please," the woman says, I assume being the bratty teenager's mother. "Allow our customers to walk around in peace and answer questions until I come out from the back. Got it?" 
     "Yeah, whatever," she says, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.
     The kind storekeeper leaves Steve and I with the girl, whose name might be Claudia, who doesn't lay an eye on either of us. Steve whispers something into my ear, however, I cannot make out the words because I can't multitask - listening to him and staring intently at Claudia, who might not be Claudia. Wow, that was confusing.
     Then, the girl glances up and gets a glimpse of Steve.