It'd been a beautiful day when he started on his drive; partly cloudy with a light breeze. Steve had climbed onto his motorcycle this morning to take a drive up the California coast. He'd flown out here to clear his head after Peggy's funeral, to try and get his head back in the game. Going to Peggy's funeral and hearing Sharon Carter speak hit him a lot harder than he'd anticipated. There were a lot of conflicting emotions running around in there, ones that he wasn't sure how to handle. So Steve did something a little out of character for him: he ran away.
Then he did something even less in character: he got lost. With his gas tank running on nearly empty, he finally had to stop and ask for directions. He'd been on the road for hours and hours, and found himself completely and entirely lost. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened--and paper maps were an obsolete relic only slightly younger than he was. Natasha had shown him a couple of times how to use the map application on his phone, but he still wasn't used to the thing.
Twilight was gently falling when Steve pulled his motorcycle into the drive, parked, and started up toward the building. He'd noted the name of the hotel on the way in, but didn't think much of it. Madonna. The first connection he made in his head was to the Virgin Mary, not the pop singer. She'd come around way after his time, anyway.
This place looked interesting, and there were plenty of lights on in the windows. A sure sign of life. There must be someone inside who can help him find his way back to the interstate. Steve wasn't sure about things, though, as he headed inside the pink lobby. The concierge knew his name (then again, who didn't?) and insisted that he had a room here in this hotel.
Curiouser and curiouser. Instead of arguing the point, Steve gave a gentle, "thank you" and took the proffered key. Best to avoid conflict. Maybe there was someone else here that could help him figure all of this out. He turned to look around the lobby, wishing that he'd taken up Tony on the offer for more training on the blasted pocket computer. Then Steve decided to just get out of this place. He headed out to where he'd parked his bike... but the bike was gone.
Assigned Threads - Steve Rogers
Then he did something even less in character: he got lost. With his gas tank running on nearly empty, he finally had to stop and ask for directions. He'd been on the road for hours and hours, and found himself completely and entirely lost. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened--and paper maps were an obsolete relic only slightly younger than he was. Natasha had shown him a couple of times how to use the map application on his phone, but he still wasn't used to the thing.
Twilight was gently falling when Steve pulled his motorcycle into the drive, parked, and started up toward the building. He'd noted the name of the hotel on the way in, but didn't think much of it. Madonna. The first connection he made in his head was to the Virgin Mary, not the pop singer. She'd come around way after his time, anyway.
This place looked interesting, and there were plenty of lights on in the windows. A sure sign of life. There must be someone inside who can help him find his way back to the interstate. Steve wasn't sure about things, though, as he headed inside the pink lobby. The concierge knew his name (then again, who didn't?) and insisted that he had a room here in this hotel.
Curiouser and curiouser. Instead of arguing the point, Steve gave a gentle, "thank you" and took the proffered key. Best to avoid conflict. Maybe there was someone else here that could help him figure all of this out. He turned to look around the lobby, wishing that he'd taken up Tony on the offer for more training on the blasted pocket computer. Then Steve decided to just get out of this place. He headed out to where he'd parked his bike... but the bike was gone.