[ Some days, Steve fears his grip on reality is slipping. It seems like a reasonable response to what he's been through, but there's more to it than that. He doesn't feel comfortable in this time, no matter where he is; he feels numb and detached, adrift enough to float away if the weight of the world didn't hold him down. And lately there's a new discomfort, but a familiar sensation— he keeps feeling like he's being watched. Someone out there is keeping tabs on him.
Maybe. He can't be sure yet, with nothing but a gut feeling to go on. But he could have sworn he just saw the cursor on his SHIELD-issued laptop move from across the room, and that's what it takes for Steve to finally break and type into the word processor (feeling insane while doing so): ]
I know someone's there.
[ If it's just his imagination, the response (or lack thereof) should confirm it. Steve stares at the screen, feeling taunted by the little blinking bar at the end of his sentence. ]
no subject
Maybe. He can't be sure yet, with nothing but a gut feeling to go on. But he could have sworn he just saw the cursor on his SHIELD-issued laptop move from across the room, and that's what it takes for Steve to finally break and type into the word processor (feeling insane while doing so): ]
I know someone's there.
[ If it's just his imagination, the response (or lack thereof) should confirm it. Steve stares at the screen, feeling taunted by the little blinking bar at the end of his sentence. ]